So, today I finally planted my mimosa tree, which I grew from a seed (provided by the tree in Jennifer Clarke Wilkes' yard; many thanks JCW). For several years it's been in a successively larger series of pots, the earlier ones on the window-sill at the old WotC building, the most recent so big it rests on a wheeled coaster. It spent this past winter, its first outside, on the back porch (protected from above and one side but otherwise exposed to the elements), and I wasn't sure it'd survive. Luckily, it did; just this week I noticed that the first buds are starting to form. So I went ahead and took the plunge and planted it out back, where the ill-fated cherry tree briefly grew. Tomorrow I'll need to put a rail of some sort around it to protect it from groundskeepers and their mowers, and possibly also some flowers just to re-inforce the 'this is supposed to be here' message. Wish it luck.
And, speaking of out back, I was only joking when Janice asked me what that percussion sound was in mid-afternoon when I said "tribal dancing". Turns out I was right; over at the school (Neely-OBrian) there was a large group of folks who, as best we could tell, were getting lessons in how to do tribal dances. They were a long way off, but from their general appearance and dress they seem to have been Polynesian. Now I'm curious what event they were practicing for.
Just as with the mimosa, time no doubt will tell -- but in the one case I'll be monitoring the result daily, while with the other I may never know.
Plague Books: Operative
20 hours ago