“Happy Clay Potter*”


Happy clay-potted

aloe throws a three-foot stalk:

green buds show pin ends.

 

  • (Apropos not of the above, but will someone please consider naming a child of one gender Happy Clay Potter  and the other Clay Happy Potter?  I have a half-dozen unused clay pots currently begging for thyme or sumsuch herb or even my lone surviving rosemary cutting in its second-stage plastic cuplike starter.  The society garlic goes riot and I’m loathe to sunder too soon.  Will hold a plant sale/adoption to help fund the WP premium plan since work seems strangely absent of late.  Then, there’s the kitchen wares still boxed and bereft of use and books and all kinds of dust-catchers so unless work calls soon I shall be outside with shovel, rake, trowel, suntea and rocking chair – too, for the right price – with a few rows of future okra’s compost to turn under between expected thundershowers.  July is electrically eclectic.  And now with rain, the smoking of formerly live things and perhaps a a paella of sorts to accomplish marrying rice with bird parts, shrimp and other shellfish with chorizo and parsley in a saffron-laced broth to bathe rice rightly.  Once again, I go to bake baguette.)

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