Home again
We got home Sunday night, with a two-hour adjustment, with Daylight Savings Time going off and coming back from the mountain time zone. In spring, those two would cancel out. In fall, it meant that the clock said ten p.m. and it felt like midnight.
We were utterly happy, though, it was a wonderful trip. We missed a big wind storm on Saturday, where 140, 000 people were without power, but mostly north. Very few lost their power in Tacoma, and all was well when we arrived home. The last leaves are gone on the huge front tree, and I suspect the fellow over the fence came and raked one more time, because it's hard to believe that all the leaves inside the front hedge-and-fence boundary were whisked away by the winds. Just before we left, the man who lives in his van in the vacant lot next door--by permission as security presence--mowed our grass when he was mowing over there. (I started to say, our lawn, then realized that overstates the state of our green stuff. This property has not been taken care of very well.)
A friend who did some raking the week before out of kindness, looked at the state of the yard and assured me that hers was in like need, saying, "you could braid our grass right now." That would be my assessment too, sparse and spotty, but loong and unkempt. Bumpy and uneven, it needs help left, right, and center, which we are probably not going to be able to give it. But the wind did end one issue--there is not a pear left on the top of that tree.
I now have the crocus bulbs planted, the last iris came the day we were leaving, and it's in the planter box too. I hope these do well come spring, and like so many things in this world, we just have to wait and see and hope for the best. I have double daffodils (two kinds), iris (six individual types), small low striped tulips next to the gold-flowering ground cover in the front corner, the crocus, and two peonies planted. A kind friend surprised me with a generous cash gift for my birthday, and I put it into flowers. All those years ago, Dad, before I became an early-morning-averse adolescent, gardening with you did leave an imprint. You never liked iris, but I do, so that impulse started all this. I have a double-daylily in a big pot outside, too.
The donor of this largesse has a greenhouse and garden, and while she genuinely assured me that the gift was to do whatever I wanted, it made her smile that this was what I did. (She snuck the card into my books so I didn't find and open it until I was home
Oh, and a white clematis in the back corner, little brave thing, which can spread up both directions of the wooden fence. I guess I'm making up for not having any children around now, I feel impelled to see something grow. I want to make this place happifying, to borrow Mary Ellen Edmunds' word. I have a pair of good lawn chairs, too, just waiting for the sunny days to return. I plan on enjoying the small outdoor space that we call home now.
We were utterly happy, though, it was a wonderful trip. We missed a big wind storm on Saturday, where 140, 000 people were without power, but mostly north. Very few lost their power in Tacoma, and all was well when we arrived home. The last leaves are gone on the huge front tree, and I suspect the fellow over the fence came and raked one more time, because it's hard to believe that all the leaves inside the front hedge-and-fence boundary were whisked away by the winds. Just before we left, the man who lives in his van in the vacant lot next door--by permission as security presence--mowed our grass when he was mowing over there. (I started to say, our lawn, then realized that overstates the state of our green stuff. This property has not been taken care of very well.)
A friend who did some raking the week before out of kindness, looked at the state of the yard and assured me that hers was in like need, saying, "you could braid our grass right now." That would be my assessment too, sparse and spotty, but loong and unkempt. Bumpy and uneven, it needs help left, right, and center, which we are probably not going to be able to give it. But the wind did end one issue--there is not a pear left on the top of that tree.
I now have the crocus bulbs planted, the last iris came the day we were leaving, and it's in the planter box too. I hope these do well come spring, and like so many things in this world, we just have to wait and see and hope for the best. I have double daffodils (two kinds), iris (six individual types), small low striped tulips next to the gold-flowering ground cover in the front corner, the crocus, and two peonies planted. A kind friend surprised me with a generous cash gift for my birthday, and I put it into flowers. All those years ago, Dad, before I became an early-morning-averse adolescent, gardening with you did leave an imprint. You never liked iris, but I do, so that impulse started all this. I have a double-daylily in a big pot outside, too.
The donor of this largesse has a greenhouse and garden, and while she genuinely assured me that the gift was to do whatever I wanted, it made her smile that this was what I did. (She snuck the card into my books so I didn't find and open it until I was home
Oh, and a white clematis in the back corner, little brave thing, which can spread up both directions of the wooden fence. I guess I'm making up for not having any children around now, I feel impelled to see something grow. I want to make this place happifying, to borrow Mary Ellen Edmunds' word. I have a pair of good lawn chairs, too, just waiting for the sunny days to return. I plan on enjoying the small outdoor space that we call home now.
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