As Sigyn and I have discovered, there is more than one book in the parcel! Just where the human female plans to put more books, I’m sure I have no clue. The house is just about as full of books as it is possible to be. But that is all right. Clutter induces stress, and stress gives her gray hair and wrinkles. I’ve about got the conversion rate of clutter to cronehood worked out, and when I do, I shall publish.
Come, Sigyn, let us see what else is in the bag.
I called it: plant book.
Why all the interest in the flora of Britain? It’s not as if she can afford to retire and move there. She’s just going to make herself miserable with all of this.
More watercolors. Photographs too, but mostly watercolors.
This is a very botanical book. There are slanty scientific names and detail drawings and plenty of other whatnot.
It’s a very untidy book, though. All plants are drawn as if they’ve just been pulled up along with all their cohorts, grasses and other wildflowers and roots and dirt and whatnot. Sigyn says it’s “very true to the field botany experience.” Perhaps. It’s giving me ideas about tracking plant bits and mud into the house.
Ah. Looks like we have another nature diary. More watercolors. More Britain. She likes what she likes, I’ll give her that.
Aw, Sigyn, sweetie! I didn’t know this one had hurty pictures.
Maybe Mr. Owl is just… rescuing his little friend Mr. Mouse. Yes, I bet that is it.
What is it with these nature diary people that they have to hand-write everything?
I should think that would be tedious in the extreme.
This one has bits of poetry in it as well.
Poetry AND Latin. Her brain is going to turn to mush.
There is one last book in the package. I predict it will be….
A book of British Plants, illustrated with watercolors!
I swear I don’t know where all of these are going to go.
A page of pansies.
The illustrations in this one are certainly tidier.
Sigyn thinks this is the same little purple vetch she found in the front yard the other day.
Vetches get around, so I shouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.
Oooh—what’s this very, very prickly yellow-flowered one?
The dodder’s the strangly thing. I want to know what it’s on, so I can plant some right near where the human female has to walk…
And you thought I didn’t like gardening!