Word: plantes
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...water. In the silence that had opened up between exchanged insults, she chewed elegantly on her lower lip. Her glass threw off thin beams of iridescence, which played tricks of light and color on Viscount Frederick Fabreigh’s monocle.“It will be pointless to plant it along the north wall,” the Viscount said. “That side of the house receives so little sun. Nothing will survive outside of a few weeks in June.”Felicity looked at him, making little effort to suppress her great annoyance...
...having taken to travel after losing his wife, is filling his time between European tours by visiting his daughter. Ruma worries that her father’s visit is an indication that he wants to claim his traditional right to live with her as paterfamilias. When she sees him planting hydrangeas—“They were always your mother’s favorite...in this country, that is”—her fears are confirmed. However, confounding all tradition, he has no intention of staying. Unbeknownst to Ruma, her father has already found surrogate female companionship...
...named Oskar Blues' Dale's Pale Ale its favorite American pale ale). Oskar's sells a beer-flavored lip balm and some very intense beers. That means they're high alcohol (up to 10.5%, compared with 5% for a Coors) and have wads of hops--the green, pinecone-looking plant that gives beer its floral aroma and bitterness. In fact, bitterness is measurable (in International Bittering Units, or IBUS), and brewers are almost all men, so they tend to get competitive about how many IBUS they can get into a beer, no matter how insanely expensive and difficult...
...name, he was an Irish-American classic. He lived with Grandmom in a row house in Nicetown, on 15th Street, a short walk from the busy corner of Broad Street and Hunting Park. Every night when he was working the night shift, he'd head off to the plant wearing a peacoat and a cap. He could have been leaving for an evening in County Cork...
Grandpop's reward was nothing so grand as getting elected U.S. Congressman. His highest position was ward secretary in the 43rd. But when he retired from the plant, Grandpop got a job working at the election commission down at City Hall. In his mind, it was a due reward for his years of service to the party, payment for his loyalty; it was a reminder, too, of those countless days in the 1930s when he was unemployed and walked each morning the 12 miles (20 km) down Broad Street to City Hall in hopes of getting work. That...