Seasonal readying...

 I think it's pretty cool that I have a friend with a dump truck.  Brenda came last week with yards of mulch and mounded a fragrant pile of it in the side yard. She came back later and edged the gardens, then spread mulch in them, leaving them looking neat and fresh. Meanwhile, the daffodils were pushing out of the ground, hallmarks of spring. 

Mulch never goes as far as one thinks it will, so she and her truck came rumbling back yesterday with more, and tidied up the backyard flower bed, and around the sweet little Silky coop. I joined her, potted some pansies in old buckets, and in the wee coops window box. 

I cleaned up some messy things left in the yard all winter, dug a funky watering can out of the garage and watching in awe as Brenda deftly dug up perenial plants and divided them, then tucked them into pockets of earth she created and patted them in, looking happy in their new spot.  More mulch was hauled and spread, and much progress was made making the yard spring and summer ready. 

Meanwhile, the firewood for next winter was delivered. 

An enormous pile of oak, maple, birch, and ash. "An artisanal stack of firewood," the woman I bought it from quipped.  Now it needs stacking so it can dry and age. It seems odd to be planning for cold weather as the spring season is creeping in, but that is what one must do here. It pays to plan ahead, and it makes me feel rich to see that pile of good wood, waiting. 

Little Flirt had an appointment with the canine cardiac specialist in Portland last week. Her regular vet sent us there when she heard a heart murmur during her annual exam. Of course, she had a fresh bath and haircut before she went in, and wore a little pink feather boa collar, just because. The veterinary technician said, "I showed her all around to the staff, and we 'oohed and ahhed.' She is adorable!" 

The specialist agreed that Flirt's heart is enlarged, and prescribed two medications to help reduce inflammation and increase blood flow.  Flirt does not seem to be bothered by her condition, she rules the other dogs with her typical regal attitude, plays "tug and fetch" with her favorite toys, and insists on being tucked into my jacket if we sit outside in cool weather.  Close to me is her preferred place to be, for all the seasons of her life. Her diagnosis helps me remember to treasure the days I have with this sweet little spirit, and perhaps, indulge her wishes even more than I normally do as it comes into focus that we are entering her final season. I hope it's a long one. 

 

Eat, drink, share, remember...

 Around 15 years ago Chris and I chose a picnic table for our backyard. It was to be a Mother's Day gift, and we were delighted by it. That very first day when we placed it in the yard, magic began. I had puttered about the yard all that day, and in the evening Chris and I sat at our new table to share a glass of wine. Moments later Chris said, "Huh." I looked at him and saw he was staring into the field behind the house. I glanced where he was gazing and saw what I thought for one moment was a horse trotting towards us. I quickly formulated a plan for how to catch this loose horse. I'd grab a lead rope and a bucket, put some grain in it... then the "horse" turned, and low and behold, it was a moose. Right in front of us. 

Over the ensuing years, that table was the centerpiece of our yard. We fed friends and family endless rounds of grilled meals, lobster suppers, bushels of steamed clams, mountains of corn on the cob. Summer suppers were almost always enjoyed there, and we'd sit until after dusk, watching the deer melt from the woods into the meadow. One summer we witnessed a barred owl hunt from her vantage point on an electrical wire almost every evening. Bats would dip and dance above us in the evening sky, while we lingered at our comfortable table. We grabbed hurried lunches there on busy yard-work days, snatched moments of rest and quiet a thousand times. That table was used as a workbench for many a repair project, a dance floor for baby goats, a perch for dogs who liked to lounge on its surface in the sun and survey their domain. 

But nothing good lasts forever, and the table began to show its age. The wood rotted and splintered, and it was no longer safe for us to enjoy. Today we drove to Ellsworth to look for a replacement. 

A huge array of Amish-made furniture, all from white cedar, stretched across a large lot. I had my heart set on an octagonal table because I thought it would be conducive to excellent conversations. I zeroed in on the section where they were and plunked myself down on a sturdy bench. To my endless disappointment, it didn't feel comfortable. We wandered down the row to the regular tables, and I chose an 8 foot one and sat down. I felt like I was in the story of Goldilocks and the Three bears. This felt just right. The distance between the benches and the tabletops was different on each model. It was greater on the octagonal tables, making it not so comfortable for someone my height. Chris found the office and paid the people, and moments later our heavy, sturdy new table was in the bed of my truck. 

Now it sits proudly in the center of our yard. We enjoyed a glass of wine there this evening, smoothing our hands over the fresh-cut wood, inhaling its spicy aroma. A gifted pot of pansies is the perfect decoration. We are setting goals. There will be sharing and laughter and joy at this table, just as there was at the old one. There are memories to be made, and they will happen here. 

Serendipity...

 My niece, Aimee, and I  share many common interests. We are both bookworms, enjoy knitting (though she's far better at it than I am), are delighted by babies and small children, and admire vintage, slightly shabby home decor. We also find that we are both drawn to similar types of jewelry. 

Many years ago she sent me a picture of an aquamarine ring she thought I would like. It was Art Deco style, with a light, watery blue emerald-cut stone set in white gold. I had to have it and splurged mightily to buy it for myself. I wear it constantly, and am so fond of it I even gave it a name, "Oceania." 

Aimee and my daughter Rachel both openly covet my ring, and though they've never had a cousin-quarrel, they promise that when I die there will be a screaming fight, including hair pulling, to see who wins ownership of Oceania.  It's all said in jest, of course, but I do worry that there will be hurt feelings one day when one of them pries the beauty off of my cold, dead hand. 

Aimee came to visit last weekend. I was very smart 10 years ago and foisted a puppy off on her. The puppy requires grooming and is not terribly well behaved about it, so Aimee drives 2.5 hours to see me every few months so I can spiff the little thing up. This works brilliantly because I get to visit with her, and she gets to take home a clean dog. While she's here we try to cook her a favorite meal, and if we have time, we hit an antique store or two.  This time we headed to a favorite spot in Camden. We wandered happily from booth to booth, admiring old, white-painted wicker items, charming glassware, whimsical figurines, and more. It was a lovely little interlude. 

Then Aimee pointed out a ring in a huge wall display of jewelry. I glanced at it and asked the woman at the desk if we could take a closer look. Low and behold it was nearly a twin to my ring! 

Similar lovely filagree, similar pretty watery-blue stone, and the price was pennies over a gift card Aimee had received for Christmas. So now there will (hopefully) be no screaming, hair-pulling fight between cousins upon my demise. And Aimee and I can sport twin rings. Serendipity is an important factor in maintaining family harmony. 

A stack of celebrations...

The last few weeks have been filled with one delightful celebration after another.  It all started off with Rachel's birthday. We took the day off, climbed in her little car, and headed north, ending up in Ellsworth. There we visited a fabulous kitchen store, a very cute little art shop, and along the way to and from we stopped at every antique store that tickled our fancy. I brought a pile of cash and any time something made my daughter's eyes light up, I bought it.  It was lots of fun. We had a delicious lunch out, and speaking strictly for myself had an entirely blissful day. 

Five days later my birthday arrived, and once again we closed shop. Because we can. And this time we drove merrily south, landing in Brunswick. We visited a few favorite shops there, had a magnificent lunch, then poked around the enormous antique mall there.  To refresh ourselves we had cups of gelato, then headed home.  Rachel had baked me a wonderful Boston Cream Pie, from scratch. I took pictures, but they did not show it off satisfactorily, so you will have to trust that it was beautiful from the dense yellow cake to the creamy custard, all topped in glossy ganache. Yum. Chris came home from work and whisked the two of us out to a favorite spot for supper. 

Two days later he and I packed up and drove to North Conway, NH to celebrate our 37th wedding anniversary, (just a few days late.)  We both enjoy old, "funky" hotels, and he arranged for a lovely room at Stonehurst Manor. Our room had a sweet little balcony, antique furniture, and a jacuzzi tub, too. This is the view from the grounds. 

We took a trip on the Conway Scenic Railway. 

I know exactly two people in North Conway, and we had planned to visit with them on Sunday. While we were on the train, my friend called and, laughingly asked, "Are you having fun on the train?" Indeed I was, but how did she know? As it turns out, she and her husband were in their car, stopped and waiting for it to pass. Since it was Easter weekend, the train had some special attractions for children, and they dubbed it "the Easter Egg Express."  As we went past my friend said, "Oh look, it's the Easter Egg Express. And DARYL!" We had a good giggle at the timing. 

We passed over lovely rivers and saw more than one parent with a small child waving as the train chugged by. 

We also took a pleasant hike to Diana's Baths. A beautiful waterfall, musically splashing over piles of granite. 

The river along the way was pretty, too, with remnants of ice and snow still clinging tenaciously here and there. 

Several good meals under our belts, and some lovely restful time, we then had a fun visit at our friend's bright new home before heading back. 

My mother used to quip, "It's good to go away, but good to get home again." And it was. 

Happy days of celebration behind us, today Chris drove me to the eye specialist in Portland. I've had four eye surgeries to reduce pressure caused by glaucoma since last spring. They have helped, but not enough to reduce the pressure to the extent it could prevent vision loss. The last effort was in early March and today we were to find out if it was successful. I nearly broke out in a dance when I got the report that my pressure was well in the normal range. The specialist said, "I'm here if you need me, but you don't have to make any follow-up appointments here." I was so glad I had baked brownies for the staff today! 

Stacks of things to celebrate, and we honored each and every one.