#TBT: Whaaaat?…

I’ve been writing about the Dwarf Troll House at Edwards Gardens since 2010. Every year or two I’ve taken a new click and posted it here with an update. The last one was in April of 2015 for the A to Z Challenge Letter D. You can find it here.

This was the late summer 2012 shot. It’s a mighty handsome troll house. Functional, too.

Imagine my surprise last weekend when I strolled around the curve of the garden expecting to take my 2017 click and it was gone, baby gone.

G O N E !

It had been removed like throwaway urban real estate to make way for the new. The new being some yet to be determined green plants.

I wept for the dwarf trolls and myself.

A hundred steps along the path I saw this ~

Dwarf Troll Bunker!

It be going nowhere.

Smart trolls.

Here be Thursday.

Dig in. We’re almost to the weekend.


#TBT: House of Fling…

It’s the perfect day for a fire in the fireplace. Check.

It’s the perfect day for blueberry-peach-chocolate cobbler. Check.

It’s the perfect day for Earl Grey tea. Check.

It’s the perfect day for Throwback Thursday.

And check.

House of Fling…

A Highland Fling, you say?

No. No. Not a Highland Fling. Though it will make your skirt fly up.

A romantic fling, then?

No. No. I’m in what you might call a romantic long haul. Right, Mr. G, honey? Of course, that could make your skirt fly up, too?

Aside: Mr. G, honey is shaking his head. What is she talking about now? I can read his mind. That’s what happens when you’re in a romantic long haul.

No. Today, I had a little spring fling — a  fling of the self-indulgent variety. I was hoping to put it off until May because I #amwriting, but I had a moment of clarity yesterday. A moment when I realized I was…I was…I was…looking a little like a hag-in-waiting.

It was a long, hard winter of shuffling around in socks and yoga pants — not the cute kind — socks and sweats, socks and mitts and boots and coats and hats and long underwears. We’re still doing it every other day.

So this morning, I hied myself off to the House of Fling and had my eyebrows waxed and tinted, some random threading done, ouch! — don’t ask — and a mani/pedi. It took three hours for me to no longer look like Mrs. Bigfoot.

And as I am hooked on OPI, my toes went with their signature color of I’m Not Really a Waitress red, but the fingers had a little fling of their own with the soft and sheer Bubble Bath. Have mercy!

That’s how the Northern Girl marks the coming of spring.

House of Fling, baby.

Elen (April 2011)

I’m about due another fling.

Who’s with me?

Men fling, too.