Despite having no garden, I tried to flex my greenfingers over the weekend by digging them into some potting soil. I replanted my succulents and bought and transplanted some ranunculus. I hope they grow wild and rangy in the window in front of my desk. And I bought some peonies, which are literally unfurling in front of my eyes. They're so much fun to watch.

And along the way there was wine and food, of course, and I bought Ian McEwan's new book Solar too. You've probably noticed from the lack of book reports, that I haven't been reading as much lately. It's a chicken and egg thing: When I'm tired and blue I don't have the energy to engage literature. And when I'm not reading as much, I get depressed. I'm hopeful that McEwan can pull me out of my literary funk, if not my existential one.

There was work too. I managed to put the "fun work" in front of the "work, work" which meant late nights catching up. But at least it meant I felt like I had some weekend.
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