Did You Never Know?

Did you never know, long ago, how much you loved me —
That your love would never lessen and never go?
You were young then, proud and fresh-hearted,
You were too young to know.

Fate is a wind, and red leaves fly before it
Far apart, far away in the gusty time of year —
Seldom we meet now, but when I hear you speaking,
I know your secret, my dear, my dear.


(Sara Teasdale)

Hyperactive Security

In eagerness to lock things down enough for decent folk to visit the Garden in peace, my recent security measures appear to have clobbered many of the real user profiles as well as the spam accounts (which are largely limited at this point, spambots being fairly simple constructs). Whether you’ve commented or not seems to have had no bearing on its choices.

Please log in and see if your user account is still there, and if it isn’t, please add it again, with my apologies. The name and so on you used before should work just like the first time, and your information will be as secure as ever – perhaps even more so.

Licorice: Aphrodisiac?

No doubt your eyebrows shifted upward a notch or two at the title. What I found regarding this popular candy ingredient raised my eyebrows, too.

First, I’d like to point out that licorice root (Glycyrrhiza glabra) and anise (the herb that people who don’t like licorice really don’t like) only taste somewhat similar. Anise is many times more intense and is often used to bolster the flavor of something “licorice-flavored.” The tastes are therefore often confused.

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Well, that was exciting.

You may (or may not) have noticed some trouble around here, getting into the Garden. It would seem that this quiet corner of the ‘net has just enough notice to call all manner of ill-mannered bots and spammers. I had quite enough of finding my own gate locked, and the articles unresponsive, and have implemented rather stronger security.

I’m hoping this works and I won’t have to infringe on your ability to comment in order to repel the rabble.

A Slight Apology

Your humble host has promised to venture deeper into the arts and sciences of desire, romance, sex, beauty, and all those things which make life wonderful, enticing and fragrant as the Garden on a summer midnight. However, a certain perfectionism has thwarted the schedule somewhat, compounded by an absurdly overbooked life which takes one from the Villa and Garden for far longer than would be wished.

These topics are less easily coherently written about than, say, the nature of a purported aphrodisiac herb, and so things are delayed while mental energy is marshalled. In other words, I demand a certain level of quality from myself. But fear not! They, and the other promised improvements, are coming as quickly as I may.

And now I shall cease all apology and get myself to work.