The human female’s work group tends to make a medium-sized deal about birthdays.  I wouldn’t say big deal, because there are no parades, no fireworks, and no maidens throwing flowers, which is how I like my birthdays.   No, around here it’s more than just, “Hey, you look older.”  Somewhere in the neighborhood of, “We all signed a card and someone made cake.  We may or may not sing.”

Today is the human female’s boss’ birthday, and the human female made the cake.  Or rather, a dozen little cakes.  She put lemon in and on them, and I must admit they look pretty good.


Everyone is busy munching and saying that they’re good.  Nothing fancy, but they’ll do.

Enter the surprise delivery of anonymous, richly chocolate cupcakes decorated with dipped strawberries and cleverly-constructed faux succulents.


No one wants your raggedy old lemon things now, DO they?

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Just Hanging Around

We are still hanging around here at Maybe-Mint-But-No-Actual-Spring.  The human female is itching and scratching because she didn’t want to goop up with bug repellent for what she thought would be a short trip.  She’s getting good and bitten up and, since she is physically incapable of not scratching, I predict that that  one on her neck will be roughly the size of a prize-winning goiter by tomorrow.


You’ll notice I said “hanging.”  I mean that in the literal, dangling-from-stationary-objects sense.

Looks like a good crop of grapes this year.  We shall have to come back when they’re ripe and watch the human female make horrible faces as she tries to eat them.  (I know better than to try to eat them with the skin on, but she isn’t very bright and foolishly tries one every couple of years, just to see if still tastes awful.  Hint:  it does.)


Cedar trees–which are junipers and not, apparently, actually cedars (stupid Midgardian plant names!)–are also good for dangling.


I’ve yet to see the human female try to eat a juniper “berry,” but I wouldn’t put it past her.  Hmm…  I shall have to ponder how I can bring such a thing about.

It’s not only woody plants that are good for dangling.


She’s had to enlist the human female’s help because the stems are so thin, but once up there, Sigyn has found that this very fuzzy brome grass has a satisfying sway to it, especially on a breezy day.  Yes, Sigyn, those fuzzy spikelets would make good pets.  Of course you can bring one home if you like!  Bring three or four and I will put some in the human female’s socks.

In addition to the hanging about and mosquito-slapping, there is a good deal of clambering happening here today.

This is old plainsman, or woolly-white.


Then there’s this yellow thing.  Its name, the human female says, was recently changed from Engelmannia pinnatifida (which at least described the shape of the leaves) to Engelmannia peristenia, a move which has proven to delight absolutely no one.


This plant is named after a botanist with such poor handwriting that his labels have been databased as Eugelmuuu, Engelnuuu, Euglenumu, and various other permutations.  Cursive is such a stupid idea.  Jotuns and Asgardians both use runes and trust me, we don’t have such orthographic abominations.

This is such a backwards planet.

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Again With The No Mint And No Spring

The human female is doing another drive-by, quick-in-and-out visit to Minter Springs—you recall, the typically-stupidly-Midgardian-named place with no mint and no spring.

Oh, wait… I may have spoken too soon.  Sigyn has found something that smells vaguely mintish.  Is it just me, or do the flowers look like hand-puppets?


Oh, and evidently that is a small one, because she’s found a BIGGER one to climb on.


How bizarre—it carries its flowers in pom-poms.  I shall call this… poodle mint.

I wonder what else is here?

Well, this looks familiar. Sigyn gets excited about this plant every time she sees it.  I can’t ever remember the name.  Scarlet pumperknuckle, or something like that.


I think we’ve seen this one before, too.  One does not readily forget such an obnoxious shade of pink.  It’s not a tall plant, but it still towers over my sweetie.


Even these tiny doll’s daisies tower over her (if she lies on her back.)


Isn’t there anything new here?  I’m bored.

Oh.  Well, I suppose this is different.  Little pea flowers.  The human female says this is called “pencil flower” because the beans it makes are long and skinny.

I thought it was because the flowers are the color of number two pencils…


I’m really not comfortable, sitting here with the sun in my eyes.  However, the human female is being bitten to pieces by mosquitoes every second we are here, so it’s all good.

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Another Midgardian Holiday I Don’t Quite Get

I checked the calendar today, and it indicates that May 5th is some sort of Midgardian holiday.  It properly belongs to inhabitants of the realm to the south, but denizens of this country seem to have embraced it with great fervor.

Sigyn and I have encountered a colorful holiday display in the local market.


I confess I have no clear idea about what this holiday celebrates.  From what I’m standing on, I’m starting to think it has to do with individually wrapped slices of pasteurized process cheese food.

Looking around at the rest of the display, I surmise that this day has been set aside for the consumption of beer, avocados, and more beer.

And the beating with sticks of cardboard effigies stuffed with inexpensive corn-based snack foods.


And people say Asgardian customs are weird.

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The human female is out at the herbarium again, identifying plants.  Usually she is all alone out here, but it looks like someone has taken over the empty desk next to the human female’s.

I find this very surprising.  I can only assume that this means this person, whoever it is, has not met the human female, or else s/he would have requested a spot waaaaay on the other side of the facility–which, given that the herbarium is housed in a gigantic warehouse, would be a not inconsiderable distance.

Come, Sigyn, let us rifle this unattended desk for valuables   leave a charming welcome note for this new and unsuspecting coworker.

Fenrir’s fleacollar!  Sigyn, get back!  The unknown owner of this desk has left some sort of vicious guard beast to protect his/her belongings!


Sigyn wants to make friends, but I don’t trust this sucky-faced creature!  Back off, you neon-green cone-of-shame wearing varmint, or you will become acquainted with the pointy end of Gungnir…

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