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Not that those things wouldn't be pleasant to include...and now that I think of it, the garage does have a door and that shade of blue just zings doesn't it?
And a turret would be very nice.
Not the kind of turret where I let down my hair and the prince climbs up (wince) with a pitcher of martinis and perhaps a cheese platter...but a turret with soggy old arm chair and a hassock where I can hide away and read and snooze--after I haul up the ladder to keep the prince the hell out of my hair.
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If it's Saturday, he can call me when it's time to take me out to dinner.
Have I digressed. Right oh...
That's baby in the picture (the one that occasionally snarkles after a blog entry). A fine piece of work, isn't she?
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They've massed and twined into this flowery fairytale. And I want it, which is not surprising as I'm exceptionally greedy. But I'd probably kill it since it appears to need a fabulous degree of watering and pruning; tasks that I'm alternately enthusiastic and apathetic about. And when I'm busy being apathetic things tend to shrivel.
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Sound sexist? Piffle (she says, filing her nails).
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Various greens are then popped into baskets (briskets? triscuts? Something like that) where they'll quickly form a splendid cascade of ruffles and flourishes.
Wonderful, if you like that sort of thing. Subtle, I suppose. I prefer the gaudier stuff at the top myself.
You didn't include the hammock! The hammock was super cool.
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