scarlet pimpernel

Going Out With a Splash (Of Glaze)

Today is our last day to visit.  The humans, wanting to do something “fun” and “different” today have settled on the last thing I would ever have chosen.


Really?!  We’re supposed to mess around with mud and clay and paint and messy things like that.  I don’t think so.   I don’t “do” messes.  Unless, of course, they’re of my making.

So here we are, at the paint-your-own shop.  We may never get inside, because Sigyn has discovered that there are some “yummy, fluffy, huggable” red-flowered bushes outside the establishment.


Huggable, Sigyn?  Look at those thorns!

We have finally gone inside.  We are surrounded by plain white shapes and bottles and bottles and bottles of colors.  Sinks, brushes, aprons, pattern books.  Suspiciously cheery staff.  It’s all very jolly.

I don’t do jolly, either.

I get it now.  Apparently one picks out a blank item, slathers on an underglaze, then paints it with the supplied brushes and colors.  One then abandons it to the careful ministrations of the staff and picks it up later, all shiny and disappointing.

The human female’s mother has selected a dainty little trinket box and embellished it with some improbably tinted peacock feathers.

unfired box

The human female, plant nerd and pathological overachiever that she is, has come up with something far too ambitious and detailed.  She says she wants to put a whole bunch of spring flowers on a simple tile.  (Blank tiles are cheap.  The human female is cheap.)

Well, it looks like she’s managed to dribble on something vaguely plant-y.   It has taken her ALL afternoon.

painted tile

She swears it’s going to come out shiny and bright in the end, but it sure looks dull and washed out now.


Well, it’s done.  Sigyn is in raptures.  I think it’s still  fiddly and ridiculous.


But I’ll give the human female this–it is plenty shiny.

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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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