Damage

It rained last night.

(Lots.)

And the wind was fierce.

(It still is.)

Therefore my daffodils don't look at all like the photo above. Instead they're looking sad and dejected and very much bent over.

And that's not all. The blossom from my plum trees is now on the ground. There is some left on the trees - hopefully enough to yield a good harvest of fruit come summer - but not much. I won't hold my breath.

I gave The Most Adorable Granddaughter a daffodil to take to Kindy the other day. By the time we got there, the head of the daffodil was bent over and it looked as if the stem had been twisted many times over. It looked quite sad. (Much like its siblings in my garden right now.) But she was proud of it and happily handed it to her teachers who very graciously received it.

We also have a broken window. But we can't blame that on the storm. No, the blame lies at the feet of Son#5 who was playing hockey outside with his brothers and hit the ball too hard.

I wonder, how many broken windows have we had over the years? Son#4 put his hand through one when running and slipped; Son#1 also put his hand through a window when he pushed on it to open it. Son#2 was studying at his desk when a water bomb suddenly came through a window and splattered glass and water everywhere. And then there have been all the balls that have gone through windows.

Either I lived a very sheltered existence when I was growing up or it's something that is more likely in the male species because I can never remember breaking a window as a child or of seeing someone else break one. Hmmmmmmm.