Last night, I watched another movie that just happened to star Steve Carrell--Evan Almighty--and then Mom came over to watch it before I turned it in, so I've seen it twice in less than 24 hours. That's okay. It's a good movie, and its presentation of God and His character is, well, in character. Well done.
As for the rest of the day, I've been in the yard, wielding rake and shovel and the occasional trash bag, but no lawn mower. Dad traded mine for his. It doesn't work, either.
For 20-25 years, I've been holding on to some seeds my grandmother gave me. My paternal grandparents were great gardeners, and they tried to teach all of us numerous grandchildren to love it, too. My brother and I once grew a patch of red-skin potatoes about the size of golf balls. Tiny, but tasty. Over the years, I've killed my share of plants of several varieties. However, if it can be planted in the yard, chances are it will survive.
Back to the story: When I was a kid, Grandma gave me a handful of hollyhock seeds, and I rolled them in a piece of plastic wrap, put them away in a box, and forgot about them. A while back, kids were selling seeds and bulbs as a fundraiser for band or choir or 4H or something, so I bought a small box, and soon afterward found the old hollyhock seeds. They went into the new box; it, too, was set aside and forgotten.
This afternoon, in the process of setting out some hand-me-down plants in the front yard (my attempt at helping the neighborhood beautification, and hopefully distracting attention from the unmown yard), I found the box.
So, among the other things planted around the front and side of the house are scattered Grandma's hollyhock seeds. They need be planted later in the year--gotta endure winter before they can bloom--so it'll be a while before I see any results. Don't know if they'll grow, but I have strong suspicion they will.