My fennel is flowering. (French translation in Comments, please? actually, I'll take all languages. I need to say My fennel is flowering in as many languages as possible. It could easily be the disarming icebreaker in a hostage scenario...)
Afrikaans: My anys blom.
This morning, early, on my terrace, feeling the air, which turned from super cool to super humid overnight. Strange. Then I packed up my basket and headed to Manhattan for the CBC shoot, complete with bottle of champagne and flutes for the crew. They were so proper they wouldn't have any. I was already on West 17th Street when I did a Homer Simpson, Doh! realizing I'd left my garment bag with super-nice dresses in it at home. Fortunately I was wearing what I think of as my blog dress, for quick change purpose, so it was fine for the champagne-sipping sequence that they set up. Fake sipping. Sigh.
But it was one of MANY jets that followed an approach path to La Guardia that was much lower than usual and also smack over the apartment... I kept rushing out to look at them. I think they are beautiful, movingly so. But this is also to demonstrate why I have a new camera (still in its box and uninspected). The smudge. Can't fix it. I discovered it first last year in the Northern Cape in anotherwise pristine sky. So I must retire the little Canon Powershot SD500. It seems such a waste. But I can't have smudges in the blue. I'm quite attached it it. I understand better how Marijke felt when her camera died.
Oh, and if you're wondering where the photos of the shoot are: I whipped out my little camera, pointed it at the crew, whose producer was wearing an orange shirt, and switched it on. Nothing. Black. Um. The battery was at home, plugged in and happily eating electricity.
Eeeediot! [how did the BlackCat get in here??]