This is a vase my wife picked at the reservoir before the goats ate them. She says she would have liked to have been a professional flower picker.
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This is a vase my wife picked at the reservoir before the goats ate them. She says she would have liked to have been a professional flower picker.
A Bad Guide
You’ve suppressed a sentence originally in the post: “I told her that’s no job for a woman”, or words to that effect. I liked that bit of token feminism. Now, though, I can’t help but think you’re hen-pecked, as well as goat-butted. My salutations to your wife! Somebody’s got to keep an eye on you – you arranged it so that I could make a fool of myself just now at languagehat, in the “can’t (help) but” thread.
And the flower arrangement is beautiful. I wish I had the slightest ability to do that, but I have none.
Thanks, Grumbly. I need this edge.
Don’t you have something to say about the goats on the reservoir roof? I worked hours on those pictures.
Me neither. She does it a lot though. I think it’s partly practise, practise, practise.