Well! Moving is really, really hard, isn’t it? My younger kids can make messes faster than I can unpack and put things away. It feels a little like a race, and not the fun kind. My odds of winning are pretty slim.
If you could see the mountain of laundry that has accumulated over the past week, you would maybe pat me on the back and sigh, “Oh, Ginny.” And then you’d run.
So, the only logical thing to do right now is talk about marigolds.
Do you like them? Let’s take a poll! I haven’t always. I used to hate the smell and the look of them. I thought they were boring. In recent years I changed my mind on both counts, and that was even before I dyed yarn and silk with them. I love marigolds!
I planted mine late, and they had only just started blooming in abundance when the frost came to wipe them out. Silas, Job, and I were ready the day before, and picked as many as were there. I’ve been simmering and dyeing with them all week, a welcome break from the work of moving.