Chapter 1315: Wherein Dee has a headache

I do, actually. And this office chair is driving my back nuts, which isn't generally the case.

I think my slidey-car misadventure on Friday has put things out of whack a bit.

WONderful.

So now we go one of two ways with this: Either I type a full page of whinge that no one -- not even Yours Moaningly -- wants to read, or else I...

Um...

Talk about Blue Flax?

I guess I could talk about Blue Flax. Although that might make the pointless photo somewhat less pointless than usual, seeing as today's random I'll-be-damned-if-I'm-posting-a-picture-of-snow-so-here's-a-flower-instead is, in flact, Blue Flax.

I like Blue Flax, though. I love its delicacy, and the apparent simplicity of the flowers. I say apparent for a few reasons, most of which are pretty boring and technical, but one of which has to do with that gorgeous colour and the way it's highlighted by the darker stripes on the petals.

Yep. Blue Flax is purty.

This particular flax plant comes up every year from between the patio stones at my father's place. My mother had tried to get it to grow in the planter it's currently beside, but it decided it was happier making its own, less-coddled way in the world. I always find myself cheering for plants like that. We do have a bigger patch of flax growing properly in one of the back beds, but I much prefer the scrubby one coming up on its own terms.

Says something about me, I suppose, but people with headaches are officially excused from self-reflection today. My house, my rules, remember. And with that, I think that since this almost turned into a post instead of a whinge I should be excused from making it any longer.

Sounds good to me.