Milkweed of Bloom

It was another beautiful summer day. We spent a lot of time outside. I set out to do some weeding, but I got no farther than pulling up one patch of enormous thistles that had been lurking behind the fence, where they grew to gigantic stature. They filled up the whole yard waste bag. Holy moly, they were YUGE. I had to cut them up with the pruning clippers to be able to handle them at all, and then dig the remaining stem and roots out of the ground. I got well-prickled even though I was wearing gloves. The Sparrowhawk went out to supper with an old friend from work who called on the spur of the moment, and I took a walk. I saw my therapist this morning, and she kindly suggested perhaps I should try to withdraw from accepting any more responsibility. I think this is a very good idea. I'm just going to do this one . . . more . . . thing . . . . No, seriously, once the Duchess and I get the memorial service settled, I will let Mr. Science handle the burial. Which means waiting a tediously long time for him to make any decisions--but I would probably have to do a lot of waiting in any case, so I may as well leave the whole thing up to him.