The Case of the Purloined Gloves

Spokane has been warm and sunny for exactly two days...like 70 degrees warm and clear blue skies sunny. You know, the good stuff. The shift into spring has my brain temporarily flummoxed. The ol' thinker is still in winter malaise mode. For instance, my brain is still really concerned with stuff that occupied us (as in me brain and me-self {a la Karl Pilkington}) during the drear rainy season.


Recent examples of this stuff include: reading an article in The New York Times about Rob Marshall directing Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides, having a terrifying dream about Transformers and Decepticons, and deciding (despite the fact that I am not even halfway through the book) to read the last page of Game of Thrones, only to discover one of the characters suckling not 1 but 2 baby dragons (dragonlettes, dragonlings, dragon pups? What is the correct term?). Ganz shockiert!


So, today was the day when I granted my upstairs a hiatus from all this. We planted some plants. Thusly...



A selection from Mel's Nursery. Tomato, lavender, clover, shamrocks, sedum.

Dark Dancer White Clover



Charmed Wine Shamrocks

Sedum ground cover

Now for the mystery: for the second year in a row, my gardening gloves have disappeared. Is some Browne's Addition person sneaking onto my porch and rifling through my planting stuff to steal my $6.00 gloves? Or does one of the squirrels have a liking for gloves as nesting material? Here's some added weirdness: I also have a single glove (the mate was lost when it inadvertently touched some cat poop 2 years ago) which remains, untouched, from year to year. So, is my porch the go-to place to pilfer gloves? I don't know, but I don't like it.