Sage.
Let us ponder sage in all its incarnations for a moment. There is sage the herb, who has a leaf most velvet and scent most intoxicatingly green. Used by the Native culture to wane the bad as the smoke believable as a cleanser. This practice followed by Your Beloved Truly, when the crap is knee-deep, or when the space is new - there is sage burning. Then there is sage as in wise wisdom, words of strong conviction that chases out the bad practice.
Got some sage smoke in form of words tonight from Brucey.
I have purchased too many seeds for the garden that I will ignore - sort of - all scholastic summer but it's the promise of the seeds and, as Rio says, it is the curse of the gardener to buy too many seeds. Nigella, tobacco, nasturtium, moonflowers, lobelia, bellflowers, more sweet peas. Each flower remindful of a person, like songs.
Sunday I have a poetry reading, asked by Celia to do so, as is an annual tradition that reminds me that Oh yeah, I do that.
Putting together my Support Team for the two months of X-Treme Travel and Erudition and have informed said Team they are to be UPUPUP, with nary a twist of YouBroughtThisUponYourOwnGoddamnedSelf *BUT* Stifi-like You Can Do This, no matter how canned.

Canned Love.