Hiding little secrets

I've been out planting things. I spent all afternoon tearing into the planet and putting small things in small holes. I put in two blueberries, a lilac, and transplanted a small peach tree that had sprung up directly underneath its parent. It's now further out in the yard, critically spaced so I can get the tractors around it.

Planting seeds and bulbs is an interesting task. It's like hiding small secrets in the earth, and no one -- not even me -- knows for sure when they'll come up. I at least know (for the moment) what went where, so at some time in the future, there will be iris, and pink amaryllis, and grape hyacinth, and garish red tulips the color of some lipstick Mary used to have. Then, the secret will be out.

I was to have dinner with a friend of mine and then go watch the George Mason game at her house, but her back has flared up and she is fighting a sinus infection. My own experience a year ago with such things reminds me that they are not to be toyed with, so I have no problem rescheduling.

As far as the online world is concerned, I have a couple of women I'm talking to, but nothing spectacular going on. And oddly (at least for me) last night after work I was out getting a drink and getting something to eat, and introduced myself to a tall young woman who reminded me a lot of Heather, except taller -- probably 5'10" in flats -- and almost disarmingly reed-thin. In another atypical act, I asked her for an email address and she gave it to me. Since she's a network engineer for a local college, it occurred to me that email might be more apt than telephones.

She smokes, though. And lives in Annapolis. Oh, well.