Chives

I should have cleaned the kitchen, instead I tended to the garden and front lawn. Mowed and then pruned the dead rose branches, and then the hedge called for a bit more attention

But we can now put the bins beside the house, and get to them from the back door. The AC unit is in the way a bit, but passable. The ivy on the fence is more of a hindrance, but I'm not touching that stuff unless it's raining and I'm wearing a mask. Still, it's off the house and I'm keeping it off. Practical attentiveness training.

The chives appear, amid the cottonwood seedlings.

The pepperoncini holds it's own against the little buggers, and I pull them out by the hundreds.

Frightening to do, but I sawed back and pulled out huge amounts of dead and thorny rose trunk and branches. Carefully following back and out so I only took the genuinely dead wood, leaving the living to grow. Still have to clear the undergrowth with it's hoard of candy packages and other trash hidden in the dead leaves.

Spider

Who's that spider? Sitting on the rose bush?

I know it's a blurry image, but I am struggling with close up focus with the digital camera. Still, any ideas? About the size of a dime, maybe a bit smaller. Black, with white markings, eight legs, on the rose bush.


The rose tree got trimmed back a bit, a scary proposition for me. I really don't want that kind of scratch. Really would be nice to grow lovely roses, so I am pruning away to get it in better shape. Whole lotta dead wood. Doing no more than I have bin to clear away. Still, now we can get the garbage, recycling and lawn waste bins beside the house, not just out on the front lawn. The neighbor loaned me use of his this week, so I could make a dent in my pile. That got picked up yesterday morning.

Ok, I should have researched, then asked.


Apparently it's a Daring Jumping Spider. Not a threat to humans, & as is often the case, eats other bugs. So, cool.

Drop

D got a video last night, I nearly stopped watching after the first scene, but kept coming back to sit with him, and it sucked me back in. Ok, Nick Frost as a pot grower helped. Attack the Block is violent, gritty, scary, touching, funny, and very smart. The monsters are genuinely frightening, all black masses with rows of luminous teeth. The idea is that if aliens don't bother with cornfields, but land in a rough part of a big city, who would go after them? Well, the gangs defending their turf.

I do love when movies surprize me, come out of nowhere, challenge my assumptions, then tell a really good story really well. I'm not much into action films, they tend not to bother telling a tale, just run around in circles. This one I will watch again.

Got a goodly amount of rain yesterday, put out my buckets to catch some. All my watering is by hand, no hose. A plastic watering can, slightly dented, was left behind. I take that and a bucket to the front and water the wildflowers and sunflowers, and the cayenne. In the back, I just fill from the spigot. There is a hose, but the spigot on the north side is turned off. Have to figure out how to move it to the back at least. Living in a desert, I think about how much water I use.

Bug

The progress is not obvious, but I'm working on it.

From right after my first attempt to trim.

This from today. Long way to go yet, but at least I can tell what is there.

Sat out on the lawn with Moby as he explored, in the spitting rain. He loves the front lawn, a salad bar for the cat. It's been very pleasant greeting folks walking by, we get a lot of foot traffic. Not everyone, but a nod, a 'nice day, isn't it?' or "aw, kittie!"has been welcome. Nothing deep, nor is it intrusive. An unexpected pleasure.

Worms. Working on my revulsion, since they really are friends of the garden. Likewise most other bugges. The larger they are, the less they trigger the worst of the creeps. Swarms just get in those tiny crevices of my brain and I want to run screaming. I wanted all mosquitos destroyed, when I was a mass of red, itchy, welts as a child (Calomine lotion was useless.) I used to ask what they were FOR. I think, if someone had explained to me that they were a source of food for larger bugs, fed on by larger animals, and to them - delicious. Well, I think I could have been a bit more resigned. Just telling me I would likely not be so delicious to them in a few years, would have helped a bit. After hearing how spiders ate a lot of other bugges, I decided to just like them, and have ever since. Plus, got to hold a tarantula when I was about 13, while the boys in the class backed away, failing to look at all cool. I gave myself credit for courage, and really, it was rather furry, and therefore sorta cute.

Understanding has always eased the disgust for me. Eyes, especially close-ups of eyes, spooked me very badly. Once I studied their anatomy, I could look at eyes VERY close up, even watch eye surgery, and it didn't bother me at all. Until a few years ago, I still got a bit woozy watching hand surgery. After so many hands, and with a clearer sense of the anatomy, now it's just very interesting. I think fear is akin to anger, fed - it only grows larger and more intrusive. Perhaps not an emotion in itself, like anger again, but an indulgent response that makes one feel momentarily better. Because we can certainly choose, when startled or disgusted, to react with bravery instead - but it takes effort in the moment - when it's most difficult. But it surely works a whole lot better in the long term.

This is a preliminary theory, mind. Overwhelming trauma, or chronic abuse are different matters that leave a brain chemical stain. Don't want to go blaming any victims here.

Hedge

Found a push mower at a pretty good price, small one. It's going to take us a while to turn the lawn into something less boring, and we do need to keep it trimmed in the interim. Just to dissuade the lazy who walk by and drop their trash and cigarette butts. If it looks neglected, it will happen more often, if it looks tidy, folks tend to move on to a more abandoned looking place. And the new reel mowers really are that much easier than the old push mower I used as a kid at home. I don't mind owning it. I vowed never to own a power mower, and I stand by that. Hate the noise, they frighten me and irritate me. It didn't quite manage the tallest grasses, as the reviews indicated. I can deal with that. It doesn't have to be perfect out there, just, not awful. I think I have achieved that goal.

Tackled the rose bush, tree. Tree. Whole lotta thorns, big scary thorns, little sneaky thorns, thoroughly covered in spiky thorns. Next year, it may be a more reasonable size, that is definitely the end of the roses for this year.

The hedge is visibly hacked back. Up until today, it felt like I'd cut and sawed and trimmed huge piles, to no effect. Now, well, I can tell. The pile of bioburden will take a good month to get picked up by the city. One Monday at a time.

And back from the sidewalk, so one can see when bicycles are speeding toward one.

It's a bit like cutting hair, there is always another strand too long left.


D sat out with Moby on the lead, until Moby wanted to go back inside. That's a first, usually we have to coax him in, well, herd him in more like. He's crashed between us on the couch. And I'm pretty tired myself.

Gloves

Oh, a lovely Friday off. And three days to follow along in their own sweet time. Clouds above and dirt below. Anesthesia resident yesterday, overhearing my garden stained fingernail rant, as I scrubbed, admits he takes home a few extra gloves to weed in. His wife makes fun of him, of course - for pampering his delicate hands. Well, that's only right, really. So, when I pulled up some of the mass of cottonwood sprouts, I donned some (now un-)sterile surgical gloves for the task. Voila.

All the plants are looking happy and healthy, but none of the seeds are doing much, if anything. Next week, a soil test through the state aggie university, with an office down the street to drop it off. Or maybe it's just too early. Probably going out to continue my argument with the Overgrown Hedge. Between the neighbor and I, we are winning, but it ain't over yet.

Sat with Moby out on the front lawn this morning, and Neighbor and dog Spike walked by. I had to go pet Spike - this is required - and Moby came over to say hi as well. We let them get close, and it seemed to go pretty well. When Spike got a bit too near, Moby stayed but leaned back as if to say "ew, dog breath." Moby's tail was up, but getting a bit bushy, and he had one paw ready to defend himself, just in case, but no hissing. Neighbor had Spike held back, and we kept it short. Still, there was some level of politeness, possible friendliness, there. I keep being amazed at how confident Moby has become. My wild guess is that Moby assumes anyone I like has got to be worth a try, just as anyone who comes in the house is a potential friend. Not a guarantee, but he'll give it a go.

Masses of tiny flying bugs out in the grass this morning, all just a few inches off the dirt. No idea what they are, clear wings, black bodies and antennae, with red abdomens. Larval form of box elders, maybe? I am no entomologist. Must find a good bug identification site.

Update:

Apparently, they are good wasps. I do love being able to look this sort of thing up, and find it! This is the part of having the intertubes that I adore, it's like having an infinite encyclopedia.

The compost pile has become home to an impressive number of worms. I have to talk myself around to welcoming them, not letting any hint of revulsion begin to think about crossing my mind. I call them "little guys" and try to be happy they are there. And I am, really. Just having to remind myself.

More cat poop in the garden as well. Sprinkled some extra hot cayenne around, don't know if that will do anything, but it makes me feel better. Just have to be vigilant pulling it out as well as the weeding. Another good reason to have gloves on.

Motivations

Thank you Tristan.


What gets you up in the morning?

I never would have thought it would be a garden and some wildflowers. But since putting them down, I have faithfully watered them every day, twice a day usually, unless D took on the task for the early one when he gets home from work. I pull out the cottonwood sprouts every day. Damn things, I somehow never thought they would be quite so prolific, despite papering the ground thickly. I'll know better next year and eradicate as many as possible BEFORE I plant anything else. Maybe get that tree hacked back as well.

Looking at rain and cooler temps again this weekend, if it ever gets here. I'm just not used to four days straight, after so long with a Wednesday off. Tomorrow looks to be very long. Which is why I'm not working Friday, shifted because it was going to be a whole lotta nothin'. Docs want a long holiday weekend, it's happened before. My day ended shorter, because the last two cases had possible more complicated procedures, that the surgeon opted not to perform. Got to hear him talk through his reasoning with his fellow, which is always interesting. Thought processes of surgeons. It's not cut and dried, as much a matter of feeling based on experience, throw in a dash of patient lifestyle and preference, and the subtleties of anatomical variation. Based on knowledge and research and judgement. Nosing in on this made my day.

Eclipse

The light got strange, D brought out his little telescope, and we projected onto a piece of paper. This is as much as it got to here. Still, quite interesting.

Moby out with us the whole time, nearly an hour. Occasionally we let him be minded by the chair. Not for long, just to get focused, since I needed some assistance. He's a very tired cat now.

He may or may not have started to make friends with the next door cat. Sebastian is neutered and tame, but because he just showed up, an already outside cat, neighbor lets him out. The two watched each other from a safe distance, with occasional careful steps toward each other, sniffing where each had been after backing off. Quite a dance, slow and wary, not at all exciting. Wonderfully subtle.

Pipes

We walked over to the Living Traditions festival last evening, got food from the booths, a gyro for D and some Nepalese curry and sel roti bread for me, sat on the grass and watched people, listened to a Tongan brass band, and waited for the Salt Lake Scots. Thankfully, we both love bagpipes, since the alternative is to loathe them. Never met anyone wishy-washy about bagpipes. They bring tears to my eyes, apparently I have that switch in my brain that would flip if I had to charge to battle urged on by pipers. I would be one to go all Brianblessedbillyconnolly at the sound. It's not about being Scottish, either, since the Burmese have pipe bands for their military as well. Something ancient and either encouraging or enervating, depending on which genetic branch one draws from. The local band is long established and very professional.

Either way, it's the one place and time in this state where I am not in the dark-haired minority - grey notwithstanding. The first time, about 25 years ago, I'd only been in Utah for a year, after growing up as a minority pale person in Detroit. Here, I felt like the dark stuck-out-thumb, until this festival, and all the world turned out. More Pacific Islanders, first generation Africans and Tibetans these days, we plan to eat at the Ethiopian restaurant this week, so it's all a wonderful mix.


Took Moby out this morning on the retract-a-leash, as I got the beans in and watered. Let it play out, and he dragged the handle - which I could hear. Had to untangle him a few times and pull him back once or twice. He was lingering near the back door, when I heard the handle move fast, Moby out of sight. He'd gotten through the porch slats, into the space between the houses. Looking back up at me, "what?"

So I walked around to pick him up, and he darted under the porch. Dragged him out, to his annoyance, and unceremoniously hauled him back. Much mewling and a final hiss. Tried to let him wander again, but he had one goal in mind. Inside goes the cat. Ah, well, adventures. When done, I came in, and he rubbed up my ankles, all is forgiven.

String beans, sorry - bush beans, planted with inoculant - since I have no idea if there have ever been beans out there. Weeding done.

Long

Woman at work talking about how she has to get her hair cut, despite wanting to grow it out.
She's got curly hair, which I have to assume makes it more irritating. I so understand. I've been bobbed and buzzed, permed and Dorothy Hamill'd and dyed and everything else over the years, and the growing out is such a bugger. It doesn't lay right, it's messy and unkempt and refuses to stay under a hat or in a clip. Been there, done that, over and over and over. Which is why I have mine long, not for the look of it, but because it feels good to me, and I never have to fucking grow it out again. Oh, I hack off the ends a couple of times a year, so it doesn't look scraggly, it's not the cutting I mind. Cutting is easy, a pleasure. It's the growing it past awkward stages. The worse was from buzzed to can-tie-it-back, years I'm telling you, years. I'm done, and so is my 'do. Let it be what it is, for the rest of my life.

My long hair is not a statement, save of never wanting to be arsed again about my hair. Tie it up, braid it back, it stays under my hat in the OR, and what the hell else do I really need? Oh, I could buzz it every week or so, which is not a bad option. But my face is a bit harsh for that for everyday and all places. Tempting, sure, very easy, I did like it, but, well, there is something wonderfully sensual about long hair, and I have always preferred it long. Not to mention that it does invite less comment. Misogynist jerks will feel an obligation to point out that a woman's hair is too short and masculine for their liking to any woman in public. They really will, at least here. It is a kind of tacit invitation, which I prefer not to extend.


Got a reel for cat's leash. Thank you Lucy, we'll try it out this afternoon, but I'm sure it will be very helpful.

Do you get to see the eclipse tomorrow? It should at least make the light very strange here, as the sun sets.

Leashes

He hasn't been sleeping much, but then he crashes hard. All-he-can-eat grass buffet, and he is gorging. Full of life and spring, he runs out, despite the neighbor dog's barks. Irrelevant. Of course, Spike is barking at me, just a bit, I call out to him that it's ok, just me, but Moby seems to already know, this is a dog who is fine with cats, just alert to variation and encroachment. Not a threat. So an open door, even for a slight moment is an opportunity, and he takes it. Every glorious chance to enjoy the air.

Out on the lawn in front a guy walks by, stops, Moby immediately goes to him for a scritch. Politely friendly, then off to sniff more, muddy his paws more. Guy chats with me for a few moments, about his cats and their dislike of leashes. For Moby, ain't no big thing.

Moby sleeps deeply, twitching ears and paws as he dreams of grass and chases. Fresh air and sunshine, or rain - as today. D says he didn't seem to mind the wet.

Frustrating day all around, good to focus on the moment, as cat does.

Paid

I paid for it, having beer on that day, even that only slightly immoderate amount. Throwing up my toenails, as the happy phrase has it - eventually, late into the night. Fitful sleep. Disturbed D's as well, as he tried to offer some comfort. The ice pack, and cracker, for all that they don't seem much, provided all the assistance possible. Simply, his being present comforts me. Perhaps it was a migraine as well, haven't had one in a very long while. Not that I have any drugs for them right now. Allergies, mouth cankers, heartburn, earaches, brewed in alcohol, general not feeling good. Better after last night's good sleep. Long, fast day, and up to the work. That matters, the sense of ability. Everyone at work is raspy, snotty, irritated, allergic. Possibly because of all the scrub oak all around the building, and that is what is pollenatin'.

D watered the greenery when he got home, had to take Moby out as well. Some of the wildflowers are sprouting, the plants are sprightly. I watered this evening, and Moby had to have a long explore, sit, wander, sit, prowl. It's an odd thing to take a cat out on a leash, but he really loves being out there, and we really can't just let him run wild without risking his life and health. He knows nothing of the dangers of cars and bicycles, dogs and feral cats. I feel bad about it, he so loves being outside. Everything is a compromise, a trade, an adjustment. We will be looking into ways to get him out while offering some protection. This may take a while.

Met a neighbor, and his lovely dog. Watering, I said "hi" and he stopped for a moment, probably because dog was gazing at me. I asked to pet her, and he said she might not come to me. Fat chance, dog knew I was a sucker, very sweet creature, just a lovely light brown, Weimaraner mix looked like, named Mocha. He told me she was a rescue, wonderful dog. And that he'd looked at our house - the second person to have mentioned this to us. He bought one close by instead. I assured him we loved the house, it was home.

D slightly weirded out by two people telling us they'd been to our house's open house, and considered buying it, but it's a self selected sample, who else would approach us and tell us? They feel they have a slight acquaintance, and connection, with the place, live nearby, so, well, of course they're going to tell us. We all like this area of town, after all.

Lovely evening, not as warm, clouded over but still mild. We hope for rain.

Harness

Quietly. Moby did not agree, mrrrrowwwwing intermittently, through the morning. When I went out to water, I got him in the harness, but kept the leash in my pocket, let him come out with me to the fenced back garden. One must dress to visit the gardens, see?

The garden is my hope, much as I try to dissuade the false prophets. The tomatoes seem to be happy as the mint and thyme, the field beans and swiss chard will wait to be planted until the weekend. I want to be sure to give them the warm earth their packets seem to want for them.

My teeth are very clean, and the dentist worried about the state of my upper palate. Cankers and sore mouth, I think for the same reason I have tinnitus and sore ears and raw nose - allergens a'bloomin'. Or pollenating. Then he asked as I staggered out of the chair, after my poor back. Well, nothing to be done, life leaves it's mark on us. At least my front teeth survive, unlike a patient who fell on her face at the same time I did, and lost teeth because of it, needs a bridge and all. I soaked my mouth in saline and cayenne when I got home, and saturated myself in beer. Usually, I am quite moderate, but today I need some anesthesia. Need to numb somewhat.

My genetic kin are fading. I imagined them as survivors in a lifeboat, beckoning to me on shore to save myself and swim to them. I shake my head in puzzlement, and sit tight on my rock beside my lighthouse. You can't get drown on Lac Saint Pierre, so long you stay on shore. They want to save me, by saving them, and they can't see the contradiction. I have to back away. If I could save them as well, I would - but they are beyond my reach. Squandered their last chances and shoved me aside, I can only shrug and turn away home. Sad, but I can't let them drown me, others need me.


Moby so delighted to be out in the grass, unperturbed by the people walking by right past him, fearless in his domain. In the hallways of apartments, such intrusions would have driven him back, cowed him completely. Here, well, they are nearly guests, or at least irrelevant. Such a change in him, and we must adjust and appreciate.

He has found his place to pee outside the box, in the mudroom inside the back door. Couldn't really ask for better, easily cleaned up.

Algorithm

Moby very vocal about Going Out today. Given how much pleasure he evinces, we escort him out just to watch him luxuriate.


I keep meaning to mention, about the word verification. Try just typing it in fast, and hitting publish. I typed in just one of the words, accidentally hit Enter, and it worked. I have suspected I have not always typed properly, and it worked, so I sent the comment knowing I'd messed up a letter, and it worked as well. It's probably a fuzzy algorithm. Getting it human, not necessarily perfect. Or am I giving blugger too much credit?

Wrote to my cousin yesterday, thinking about her, not just because of Mother's Day. She was with her mum, my aunt, at the end of her life. I sent back a story and affection, because nothing helps but that doesn't hurt. Dear Aunt Peggy, she was a force to be reckoned with, and I thought her wonderful. She made it to 95, with only the last few years in confusion.

Enjoy the sun or rain today, whichever you have.

Found this over at Whiskey River,

"You normally have to be bashed about a bit by life to see the point of daffodils, sunsets and uneventful nice days."
- Alain de Botton

Stakes

Had to get out and dig this morning. Much watering, dug another hole in the front, same sort of layers, hard thick heavy clay, then river stones in a more sandy substrate. Not an easy job, but it's what is needed, and I enjoyed doing it, really.

Planted a nice little cayenne pepper, which tends to do very well in this area.

Doing what I can to reduce the lawn. Hopefully will have sunflowers before too long. Stones around are from the bottom of the hole.

Veronica from the community gardens plant sale in the other dig.

Tomatoes have stakes, and all the rest doing well, red beans inoculated and planted. Chives in.

Where I planted the lavender, nothing grew, but these, which I thought were some kind of weed. Decided to wait for them to declare themselves. Pulled one stray out, it had to be a weed, then, right? A bit of potato skin came up with the root. Oh, yeah, I'd put some sprouted potatoes out there a long time ago, thinking what the hell. Well, they grew.

I'm not being terribly scientific about any of this, really. Just doing a bunch of small amounts, seeing if any of it works. Data gathering, not even theorizing.

Swiss chard and green beans next week.

Last day of vacation. It's been absolutely wonderful for both of us.

Options

Then (see previous post) he had to go out front. Into the sun.

Then up, to just sit a while. Take in the view. Consider one's options.

More marking.

And... home, sweet home.

He seems content to be inside for now.

Out

Today was Moby's day to Go Out. We'd done it once before, with harness and leash. He's just too old a house cat, with too many feral cats in the neighborhood, to risk him bolting off and getting lost and rolled. But today was Spring, to all of us, felines especially. I got out and watered and mulched and planted, and Moby HAD to come out as well. So I took him out, and wow was it great. Warm breezes and lot of smells and he had to go out many times. Then D brought him out, back, then as I dug the second hole in the lawn - to the front. Where he got to eat grass and have a good hork (although he went inside for that, and D shoved him back out instead.) He even got out while out of harness, but we kept him on the porch. He wanted to jump - no idea where he thought he was going to jump TO, it would have taken him right through the red bush, but I got in front of him, and he scurried, whoopity scoot, back inside.

And he wanted to go out again this afternoon. Braver each time.

"Out! Very excited!"

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon!"

"Ah, dustbath!"

... (sensing an entanglement)

Peek-a-boo

One of the Issues I only became aware of after we'd put in our offer was the lack of a garage door. Apparently not unusual in this area, and we are lucky to have roof and walls to protect the car. I've always thought I could put up a tarp, which would help keep snow off in the winter, and shield it from the worst of the sun in summer. I'd looked up how much that would cost, and it was not unreasonable. When we finally worked out how we would replace the curtains, I kept wondering what to do with the heavy, newish, but really ugly brown fabric.

This is my dual solution, a cable, and Ikkeah curtains. Funny, out there, the color isn't bad at all. Looks nearly posh, I want to put pink bows on it. Appropriately inappropriate.

Peek-a-boo.

Neighbor loaned us the extension cord long enough for the drill to reach.

Made it to the community garden's plant sale this morning, much more of a crowd than I expected, but all very well organized. Took my neighbor, T, who got some lovely perennials for her porch and patio pots.

I got some odd varieties of tomatoes, mostly because there were so many, and the crowds so thick, I just picked what I could reach that looked interesting, it'll be a surprize.

And some parsley, mint, and probably oregano, I think. The tag got lost, and it was all a bit of a mess for me. Didn't expect to have to park so far, but at least I thought to bring a large, sturdy bag. Eventually, I ran to get the car, while T waited with plants and compost, since they had a loading area. Really lovely people all around.

They all look very healthy, and I still have seeds to plant, beans and chives, beets and more sunflowers.

Backs

The back door is a known problem. Damaged, it leaks, and the "lock" they had on it couldn't be unlocked from the outside. We had a lock installed, the smith wary of how little wood he had to work into, warned us it would take a different approach if we replaced the door. The plexiglass window could probably just be pushed out, the dog door is put in badly, and the whole thing has a much-dog-scratched patina. Too tall for a standard door, non-standard in most ways, we threw up our hands at doing it ourselves, lacking tools, skills and know-how to deal with this many variables.

So, we're getting a guy from Homedespot, which seems to be a decent way to find handymen. Not in a huge hurry, Spike - the next-door dog, would alert us to an intruder. But before winter certainly. Spike is not a constant barker, a very nice dog, who seems to have found a nice family of guy and cats. But he does alert to anyone in his or adjacent backyards.


Found Whoopity Scoot
"If you need to get some place in a hurry—lickety-split, pell mell, on the double!—you’d better whoopity scoot, a phrase that means to move rapidly, but not necessarily with any grace. Any Missourians still use this one?"
Over at Mental Floss. Sounds like Moby when he's on a chase.



Dug a hole in the front, for a chili plant. A shovel depth down, through dense sod reinforced with plastic netting (ugh) lots of heavy clay, until I reached rocks that looked like the bottom of an old stream. Refilled with a mix of bagged soil, probably not going to do many more this year. Felt like I would have done as well with a spoon, it took me so much time and effort.

Bit at a time, learning patience.

Hegira

It's really only two days off work, but with the usual Wednesday off, and the weekend, five days altogether is an amazing blessing. No need to go anywhere, everything is here. Dug more in the front, more wildflowers planted - ironically. Trenched out for the sunflowers as well, sowed some of the seeds. Taking it all a bit at a time, listening to how much strain my back will tolerate, trying not to give in to cultural assumptions about the importance of a tidy lawn. Pulled a few of the dandelion stems. Watered with the watering can. It all looks a bit of a mess, as I try to remember it's just a bit wild.

Finished hemming the curtains.

Moby really in the windows, on this lovely spring day, as people walk by. As I dug this morning, I realized just how many pedestrians pass along here. The car traffic just not that heavy, except right at rush hour times.

Mild air, mild light, ease and peace.

Walked over to the store last evening, to get a battery for the stud finder, so we could mount the dart board. While there, I picked up a small lemon cake and some candles. When I returned, shooed D back to his room, lit candles on cake, brought it in to him, singing HB song. I really thought he'd figured out I was doing this when he just went away as I brought in the bag, but apparently not, at all. Truly touched, we both got a bit choked up. Such simple gestures sometimes reach in and stroke deep feelings. We usually don't do birthday cakes, neither of us much on cakes or desserts usually. We just spend birthdays together, that's enough, and the rituals have fallen away. But they have power when they appear, spontaneous as mushrooms or summer showers.

We've done it all backwards so often. I never tended roses, but we have roses blooming. Never thought we'd own a house, but now we have this beautiful home. As public a courtship as possible outside of Hollywood*, we now live an utterly private life. We took a long time finding our ways, now we find we've been on the right path for us all along.


Including a cat we had to go to Boston for.



*400 bored Army folks watching the various couples forming, and acting the Greek Chorus for all. The military runs on gossip.

Roses

The roses in front are pink, and blooming like mad. Only noticed after I got some grocery roses, but they had grass fronds that Moby loves so.

We went out to put screening on this window, and Moby supervised us, with pointers, the whole way.

It apparently meets with his approval. At least conditionally until we get the glass cleaned properly.

Watered

Moby did not sleep on me last night, which is not that unusual, but it meant I slept thoroughly, if only until when the alarm would have gone off anyway. I was hungry, so I got up and ate. After the night before when he slept at my knees all night, and I had to shove him off several times because my knees were sore and stiff, I didn't mind.

I watered the wildflower patches, dug a few more - but didn't shake the dirt off the sod and sow more seed. Same for the trench where the sunflower seeds will go, just loosened the grass a bit. Perhaps more later this afternoon. After I get up the screen on the north, dining room windows, at least one. Looking at 80˚F today and the rest of the week, will want airflow. They called while I was digging, and D came out with the phone, and a not terribly happy expression. They wanted me to come in and cover a lunch, there had been sick calls. Normally I would, but this is our vacation, D's birthweek celebration, and, what I told them, we had plans. They didn't mind, just had to ask. I woke with a face ache, my knees sore, and I left work yesterday with a bad case of NeedSomeTimeOffula.

We ventured out at 0900, were going to stop at the Dart Shop - but The Internet lied about it being open at 0900, so we wandered around the sporting goods store, D found a much needed pair of shorts (he works in them in the summer) and I tried on a lot of hats, only to decide I like the ones I have. By then Dart Shop was open, and D got to try throwing darts for the first time. We'd been thinking of getting a dart board since moving in, something about the space, and I'd had a very cheap, hand-me-down paper-roll one, as a kid that I enjoyed (I was not good at it, but I liked it.) So, we now have a rather nice one, not terribly expensive, and will put it up sometime today. D seemed to have a very nice feel for the throw, and was delighted with the whole thing, including how much gear is on offer - not unlike a guitar store.

Had BBQ for lunch, dropped stuff home, and went to UMOCA, the local art museum that focuses on new art, artists from around here.

There is stuff to be done, but nothing that, should we chose to ignore it, is essential. Get laundry done by Sunday evening, and everything else is somewhat optional. I want to get it done, and I will be going to the community gardens plant sale on Saturday morning, therefore planting on Saturday afternoon, but that's about the end of the can't skip stuff.


Working on the curtains, in a desultory way. The light is so different, so appealing, with the new shades. Very pleasing.

Shadowing

Moby keeping an eye on the shadows, but not quite as obsessed as he was. More of a healthy interest than a compulsion.

The curtains are fine on the other window, I'll take them up properly, soon. Also need to put up screens on them.

Our safe place, our home.

Blinding

The blinds are in. And it changes the light and sense of space. The horrid, drooping curtains on the cable are gone. The curtains found their way to the north windows - with an actual rod.

Two fast days done, and now I take my wee vacation to celebrate D's birthweek. Only two days off work, but five days away from the job. My watch is off, and we settle into each other.

The dining room, no more brown, just the glow from real light.

And by night, it's got a tidy rightness.

A cherry brightness by day, but keeps the sun from shining right into our eyes on the sofa.

But it keeps the color in the room at night.

The cat tree is like art in front of it. We put that in the middle, so he can still look out, even when the blinds are closed.

Which is all to say that we are most pleased, with the practical side that they will insulate rather well.