Fait accompli

It’s like a whole new old potting shed – windowed by Z while I was visiting Dr. Seuss’ neighbors and painted before the lilac leafed out! (and we did the garage too)

I grew up in a white painted house and just thought that’s what color houses should be. But now I’m growing older in a garden and have come to a different conclusion about what color the house should be: almost anything but white. White does nothing much to enhance or frame a view, especially a limited one – art gallery walls are rarely so stark. White objects hover in the dark and demand sunglasses during the day. I just couldn’t squint at my garden for another season. I hemmed and hawed over every color in the Ben Moore fanbook and finally settled on a couple in a fed-up-with-myself minute before going to the paint store (Waterbury green and Normandy). And of course I regretted my choices the instant I placed roller to plywood. But I didn’t have to second guess for long. For once I got it right the first time. The way the turquoise sets off the chartreuse of the new leaves is sublime. And it’s lovely against the red of the tumbledownbarn next door and even plays nicely with the neighbor’s banana yellow and brown split-level.

Three new-to-us windows, one in the shed, 2 in the garage/shop change the whole feel of the garden too. Vast blank spaces are now muraled in patterns of darkness and reflected light and Z busy at his table saw. The new perspectives visible from inside show almost more on the outside. –Which is saying something because being inside the shed now is a total treat. I might even decorate.

Follow through

Spring (I mean late winter) is the ultimate reminder to follow through on promises. I’m not much good at that. I’m happy to start something – like a half a dozen drafts of blog posts – but not so good at following through (half a dozen drafts unfinished). Nature always fulfills her promise though even if it looks like there’s no rainy-way she’ll be able to. And every once in a while even I have it in me to keep my word. I’ve been promising for years to go back and visit friends and family in Seattle and my chosen flight flies Thursday – with me on it.

In the garden, as per usual, I am also making promises. While I’m away Z will get busy installing a window in the shed (he has no problem with follow through). And that of course means that this year, as soon as I’m back, I have no excuse not to follow through and paint it. I intend to hold me to it. And I’m saying it out loud – again – in hopes that another public declaration will fortify my typically shaky resolve.

I have also recently made a commitment to write a column – bi-monthly at least – for a local weekly. Which is cool but so far, harder to follow through with than I thought it would be. (You guys are much easier to write to. – why is that? ) And meanwhile, perversely, I’m finding it the most difficult to keep my promise to this blog. So in honor of spring’s promise I’m renewing mine. Whether or not I actually follow through.

Filling the void

The longer I go between blah-blahs the less I desire I have to post. It’s like making a phone call. Pretty soon I’ve just got to dial it or else the guilt eats me alive – and the resulting conversation is always a great thing. I don’t have any-much guilt in this case just an overwhelming sense that there’s too much to catch up on – and the longer it goes the more overwhelmed I feel and so I keep opting for another chapter and nap on the couch instead. But not really that much has changed – without further ado, here’s a nutshell synopsis of the last few weeks:

The dog still has very soft ears and has gotten over some explosive poop problems and is called “well balanced” and “so cute” by strangers on the street. The cats are practiced at their favorite sport – knocking-things-off. Tee time is 4:30AM. Z is still a saint who cooks lovely things, helps me dig holes and who spent weeks repairing a boat so that we could sail away any old time.

And in the garden: I’m filling it in. The deck is bedecked with houseplants (but the house is still decorated in dirty empty saucers). Last year’s Swiss chard has put up flower buds. The plume poppies along the path are still demure and the mint is still a perfect steppable. I’m in love with woolly thyme. I’m cultivating an ox-eye daisy farm apparently and have picked enough lettuce leaves the last couple of weeks for 2 salads for 2 people every day and I can’t keep up. The nine-bark I moved stopped sulking and bloomed its brains out. The clematis ‘Roguchi’ on the fence popped open this week and was leaning dangerously until we bought a handsome wrought iron crutch for it. I’m disappointed in the clash of my white rugosa rose anywhere near the filipendula but I have no idea which to move and where. I have begun to set in roof slates (acquired from work) around the beds and have only broken several. The 30 lb. Scotts silent push mower needs sharpening and makes me feel somewhat homicidal. (I’d kill for my neighbor’s horrid gas mower) but I’ve spent at least as much time every weekend taking out grass as I’ve spent mowing it.

The only thing I really regret about my absence from this portion of the blogosphere not keeping up with you all. I’ll be making the rounds again and meanwhile for your viewing pleasure, here are a few pictures not of my garden but one mine aspires to emulate – it’s completely lawnless! (and 30 years in the making.)