My hobby of not attending meetings about recycling saves more energy than your hobby of recycling. ~ John McCarthy
When Liddy came home to school I gave up my desk so that she had somewhere to study. Being a kinesthetic learner she was rarely to be found at it but the drawers accumulated a variety of her junk & the top served as a clothing depository. Meanwhile Star, who also deigns to use a desk, ditched her secretariat, which moved into my bedroom & served the useful purpose of holding a variety of writing paper & the presents no~one is supposed to know about. Meanwhile I used Star's outgrown desk with it's world map sprawled across its surface & strangely convex top but I missed my desk. For one thing it was a present from my parents. For another it had working drawers. Thirdly it was longer rather than wide which suits how I work much better & allows for whichever psychotic cat needs the close comfort of my presence to perch alongside of me without either of us getting in the other's way.
Now Dino is looking at some serious study & is working his way down a list of theological colleges who may, or may not, offer the sort of course he is interested in. He is looking here at present. We like this one as it is close to home which means he isn't travelling forever & can borrow the shared mainland car without causing major disruptions. So as the rain was belting down this morning & Dino got an unexpected day off work we did a major recycling job. I cleared out Liddy's desk & dragged it out into my space freeing the desk I had been using for Dino, which he gratefully lugged upstairs ~ & I have my own desk back! I believe I've been possessive about my things from an early age. My mother tells the story of returning from a holiday only to have me march round the house proclaiming, My house. My bed. My chair. etc
And you remember Star did the Gatton thing? Well Star arrived home with some rosemary growing in one of those tacky seedling pots because at the close of the service everyone was encouraged to take a pot of rosemary in memory of the floods & those who perished in them. Each pot had a little tag. Star's was rather appropriate we thought.
The problem of course is that if I plant it in the garden Star can't take it with her & rather than go out & buy yet another pot I have been considering an alternative. When my mother moved house she passed along to us a most delightful set of spice jars ~ which we have never actually used. They don't make very good spice jars so they have been sitting in a cupboard while I worked up the courage to pass them along. I think they would make beautiful & attractive herb pots because I have inherited a terrible family failing & there is always something [several somethings] sprouting in a peculiar variety of jars on my windowsills.
I know rosemary grows into a rather big bush if let go but kept pruned & indoors it should do ok in one of these small jars & we can get the pleasure of them without feeling guilty they serve no useful purpose. If it works [& gosh I hope I don't kill Star's special plant off!] I may do the entire collection. What do you think?