Greetings and salutations, everyone; it is I, Chess the purebred border collie, here to tell you all about my day in the garden, and my life with a fairly weird human being. You may remember me from such outstanding and memorable posts as “Still No Lightbulb” and “No One Cares But Me” (which was about the same thing as this post is), among many, many others.
Here I am in a characteristic pose, with characteristic after-walk paws.
Well, it’s been a pretty typical, normal day….so far…..but the guy I live with has come down with “white fever”, a disease which, if you lived across the Atlantic Ocean from here, you would smile knowingly at on hearing this diagnosis. Or roll your eyes.
Personally, like if you asked me, I would probably roll my eyes too, since all of this doesn’t have a whole lot to do with me, so it’s kind of boring, in a not-about-me way.
This is what’s happening. They aren’t completely in bloom, but the guy I live with says the fever has set in. 
He sometimes reads snowdrop books. Not aloud to me, which is a relief. 
The guy I live with says snowdrops, aside from the regular ones, are next to impossible to get here because of CITES (Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora), which says that even cultivated varieties of snowdrops, most of which originated in gardens in the U.K., require a permit to import, a permit which costs about $95 a bulb, so he just sighs. He sighs a lot.
He did order some snowdrops just a week ago from The Temple Nursery in New York, which offers a number of “named varieties”, so he can add to his collection slowly but surely.
Well, I hope this was more interesting to you than it was to me. I mean, really. “White fever.” What a thing to come down with. I did have two good walks today, anyway. 
Until next time, then.
the miserable gardener 
Chess, buddy, snowdrops are very exciting. I am excited just reading about them. Thanks for sharing.
I guess. The guy I live with sure thinks they are.
Love rha
Ha sorry. Don’t know how that happened. Wanted to say I love that last picture of you. I want to smooch you right between the eyes. I hope you don’t mind.
I am extremely smoochable. My mommy gave me kisses all the time, and the guy I live with does some, but not enough, if you ask me.
Ah, Chess dog, if you lived across the pond you’d be described appearing in your last photo as in the throes of ennui. Undoubtedly because of White Fever. Snowdrops are pretty and look fresh and piquant amidst the leaf debris. I do like the cover on The Genus Galanthus by Aaron P. Davis, although it does not come near eclipsing any photo of you. You do deserve to be given smoochies.
I do. I get a lot of cuddles, because I was my mommy’s baby and the guy I live with thinks of her about once every second, and me about the same amount. I’m worth thinking about, I think. You can maybe tell why he likes snowdrops. It’s the sixteenth of January here. (Well, I guess in most other places, too.) This is quite normal for them to be in bloom at this time of year.
Hi Chess, you look worn out after your walk. I don’t know what’s happening here there is mess and boxes everywhere and mummy is walking around in circles. I do love snowdrops. Better go and watch mummy in case she gets dizzy from all those circles and falls over…
The guy I live with did something like that today. He’s giving my mommy’s watercolor paper to the botanical illustration department at DBG (some of the paper is hand made and came from the late Anne Ophelia Dowden, so I guess it’s really nice paper), and at first he thought he’d carry it in the existing portfolio, but then decided to make one out of art board (or whatever you call it). He spent so much time fiddling with packing tape that I thought he was going to lose his mind. He really dislikes packing tape a lot, and spent a long time trying to find the end of it on the roll. In fact, he says that packing tape is one of the Four Irritating Things in his life. (He doesn’t get upset by politics or waiting in line or traffic or anything like that.)
1. packing tape, and the time spent trying to find the end of it, and then trying to apply it without it wrinkling 2. spray bottles that stop working halfway through 3. those sewn strips on bags that you’re supposed to be able to grab and pull and the bag magically comes open 4. his shoe laces, which constantly keep coming untied, no matter what shoes, even though he’s known how to tie his shoes for quite some time.
He likes snowdrops too.
2. Hold the spray bottle as upright as possible. Helps marginally.
4. Navy SEAL who lived next door taught me to double circle around the initial loop, and then of course double knot. SEALs’ lifes are dependent on not tripping. Since learning the trick, I’ve never tripped in Jazzercise.
1 and 3 I’ve got nothing.
The guy I live with tried the double knotting thing. He says his shoelaces are cursed. It started just a couple of years ago. He also finds that unscrewing the top of the spray bottle, flinging the remaining contents of the bottle at whatever he was trying to spray, and then throwing the spray bottle into the trash can, helps immensely. He also says that right before the bottle is flung into the trash can, stomping it flat with your foot is very good, too.
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