Dig it? I Can Dig it, Baby!

I spent 4 hours outside today. The sun was so warm that I almost took OFF my sweatshirt. Lucy and Sophie were sunning on the cement. I was able to get one garden bed cleared. Last year spending 4 hours on one bed would be labeled as downright failure, this year it’s a major achievement.

I plopped myself on the ground, no more balancing, no squatting rapidly up and down. This year the trash can was carefully placed within reach. Clipping (not pulling) was the now the rule, and anything that could be chopped up and left as mulch was (WHY didn’t I do this before?). I slowly and surely cleaned up, inch by inch. I wasn’t getting as much done as before, but I noticed that I was doing a better job. I didn’t have a problem taking the time to pull the tiny little clumps of weedy grass from between the Sempervivum tectorum (that granny fave succulent A. K. A. Hens-and-Chicks or Common House Leek) or to untangle the hoop fencing or to SLOWLY sweep the walkway. I was even monotonously picking walkway stones out of the lawn, one at a time.

Spending all those weeks under forced bed arrest at the hospital or cached safely on the sofa in front of bad TV for those 6 months house-bound in Adrian, had taught me, I was forced to sit there and be patient.

Here I was, happily sitting in the mud, spending hours close up and personal with the dirt and the dead things and the random green shoots that are now my garden. I liked it. Lucy would stroll up once in awhile to check on me, breathe in my face, seemingly wonder what I was doing digging in HER dirt and playing with HER sticks but then she would loudly sigh and run off to play.

I pictured myself becoming that old man carefully trimming his flowers and artfully pruning his tomatoes and yelling at the kids on the block to PLEASE step on the grass. I actually longed to be him, a zen Mr. Wilson (I am referring to the Dennis the Menace antagonist, NOT the cast away volley ball).

I went into the cocoon at the end of September as the fluttering butterfly and I emerge now as the slower worm.

But it’s spring and I am here and I am oh so happy to be out again.

- - - David

BoysTown

My view from the sofa,
(courtesy of my iPhone)

I didn’t see Dawn. I didn’t see Marj. I didn’t get into Frontera. I did spend good time with Luka and Boden.

I got to do a lot in a little time. Not only did I get out of the house, I got out of state! I didn’t even get dizzy (much). I also got to see Tracy and Ray and Ann. I got a breakfast of waffles (Thanks Boden, Thanks Ray), I got a Chicago Mexican Dinner (Thanks to Tracy) AND thanks to Ann’s reservations I got a foot massaging pedicure! I will never reveal which I liked best: waffles, dinner, feet attention, but I will say I got a lot of happy.

Boden and Luka are Tracy and Ray’s boys, 2 and 4, and both lovely, polite and TALKING. They are not yet mesmerized by my sage how-to advice so it was difficult to get my many (potential) words in to the conversation, but they held this grateful audience’s attention and we never strayed far from their side.

Even though someone peed on the guest room carpet and even though no one would own up to the crime the hosts were gracious and forgiving and we thank them.

I am now back, in captivity, and ever so grateful for being let out into the world. I hope to be let out again soon.

With good behavior?

- - - David

My kind of Town

So it's a little Wintery

photo: Wikimedia Commons

I’ve been pretty much housebound since October. Yes, we’ve made it up to Ann Arbor; we’ve made it to my sister’s and mother’s near Mt. Clemens; we’ve even made a virgin trip to O’ahu; but in between outings, I’ve spent a lot of Adrian time. This weekend we’re taking a little drive. Brian and I are packing the grrls in the Element and taking I-80 to Chicago. See you late Monday.

I love Chicago. It’s urban but it’s friendly, unassuming mid-west. And we’re off, this morning. Time to pack the car. Obama-town, here we come.

- - - David