Streaking Through the Zinnias

“The pulse beneath the folds of her neck took on a frantic quality that really must have been hell on the old girl’s heart. Her voice, however, retained the frigid, unaffected quality she threw at every- one not of like mind.” (Writhe, page 131)

 

Palm tree in its new home.

Raise your hands everyone who thought I wasn’t going to make it?

Who erroneously believed that the streak ended here?

That Chloe Stowe, the mad, intrepid blogging author, wasn’t going to post a morning rambling for the first time since January?

*3/4 of the world’s population sheepishly raises a guilty hand*

Shame on you!

*lol*

I am indeed here. And I have come bearing your daily Taste of Writhe (which releases TOMORROW!!!) and two photographs I’d like to enter as evidence as to the legitimacy of my lateness this morning.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the images accompanying this post show my labors this morning.

1. The repotting of my palm tree… a mammoth undertaking that required my mother and I breaking and then peeling the old pot away from the 30 pounds of dirt and roots before hoisting the big guy into its new home.

2. The repotting of my olive tree… no breaking and peeling of pots necessary but it was a troublesome brute coming out of its old pad.

3. The repotting of my most favorite rose in the whole, wide world… Thorns. Enough said.

Please note, also, that all of this activity was done under bright and fiery Florida sun.

All of this evidence points to only one conclusion… I should be dead.

So, please pardon my lateness. At least I’m not bloating on my deck.

*grins cheekily*

Until tonight…

Chloe

Palm tree and olive tree enjoying their new digs.