It's the garden show this weekend. Ligularia, always the star of the show. Almost everything I've planted has not turned out quite like I planned. Little things got huge. Stolid looking things spread like hell. Volunteers showed up. But nobody knows that but me, so I can pretend I intended it all. I think of the whole thing as a tool for seeing my days add up, a secret diary of mostly 'woops'. Yesterday we hid from the tourists, in the backyard mostly where Ears and I prepped a new bed for sweet peas that will barely produce in the mostly shade so we will eat them as one-offs. We like that. It was quiet. Ears said simply, "I like this." Then we took a walk in a very light rain and found discarded loaded mulberry branches and I plucked and ate berries by the side of the road. Today is father's day. I called Tbone a day early, and tipsy on beer in the late morning he launched into his all life is energy speech. He thinks about dying a lot, and when he does he thinks "all life is energy", then he tells you for the umpteenth time "let me tell ya something all life is energy". I handed the phone to Ears who told him about the black hole that NASA found that eats a nearby star and then spits it back out in pulses that sound just like a human heartbeat. I think, I should get a honeysuckle and train it up a tree trunk so the baby will have that familiar flower image in her memory -

- and I wonder, did anyone when I was a baby seed my early life with little scraps of history like that, shrouds for my own dead whose arms did not live to hold me(?).   Later tonight after we've planted peas and peppers, we are going to grill steaks, give presents, then watch the premiere of True Detective. I like the ordinary days best of all. I wish they didn't have to end.