Un

[rejectomorph]

Five of the ten rose bushes in the back yard now have buds on them. Well, two of them have buds. Three others each have but one bud. Two buds on one bush have tried to bloom but appear to be finding it tough going. No wonder, with chilly, gray days and lots of rain. All the other buds are completely closed. Across the street, the pink dogwood is also trying to bloom but not making much headway against the weather. The plants had best cultivate patience, as the gray and rainy days are apt to be around for a while yet. This evening the clouds are so low that they are almost fog, but so far they aren't quite low enough. The minimal blooming and the not-quite fog lend the day an unfinished feel.

I feel a bit unfinished myself. I didn't finish sleeping because the cat woke me up, and I didn't get my shower because the pilot light on the water heater was out all morning, and I probably won't finish making dinner until nine o'clock or later. In fact, to keep everything consistent, I think I'll leave this entry unfi