broken things and the hummingbird

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As I moved the table to sweep behind it this morning, it fell apart.  The legs separated like they were too weary to stand and the side piece fell out.  I was upset and tried to put its legs back to where they belonged and get them to stay there so I could provide first aid and mend it.

Why was I so upset? After all, it’s kind of regular little table. My son recently bought a house that has two matching tables left in a pile of other discarded stuff in the garage.  I said to him “hey those match my table.  You should take them in and use them.”  He said “nah, I don’t really like them.

This little table was left in the first house we bought and with little to no money for extra furniture, I spent hours stripping the turquoise paint and sanding it to turn it into a useable table. It’s come along to every house and home with us for 30 years like an old friend.

It’s not a big deal; just something broken to be fixed.

A change of scene took me outside to water my flowers for some nurturing zen- in- the- flower- garden time.  I know that the hose connection leaks.  I’m reminded every time I drag the hose clear down to the road to reach the farthest hanging baskets as the hose spurts, gurgles and squirts water out of the joint.  And yes, I have tightened it and tightened it and tightened it complete with new washer in it.  I need a new hose, yup.

As I pull the hose and stretch to reach the hanging baskets, the leaky joint took direct aim at the front my  shirt and with a fountain now having graduated from a single squirt, it got me full on.

In the seconds as I looked down and grabbed the hose to yank it away, a tiny blue-green hummingbird darted in and hovered  six inches in front of me in the spray of water.  I stood still and didn’t move and watched the delicate tiny bird play.  It darted to the flowers and back several times returning to hover in the droplets of water. I stood there as background for hummingbird play until it darted off to whereever hummingbirds dart off to.

Heading back up to the house, dragging the hose and dripping wet I smiled.  It’s not always about what’s wrong; what’s broken.  Sometimes, it’s just about what’s right.

 

 

 

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hollyhocks, September and the school bus

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I’ve always been in awe of hollyhocks.  When we grew up in the house on Woodlawn Avenue in Oregon the towering plants reached up to the dining room windows and were sentinels watching us celebrate birthdays around the dining room table before school started up again. Continue reading

serenaded by lilacs

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I know, I know….those of you who live in climates with year round flowers and trees won’t quite get this, but here we revel in the exuberant bursting of scent in our short seasons.

Lilacs sing with fresh soft colour and pillowy blossoms as they serenade us with their scent. What is overwhelming and overpowering in those body sprays and bath bubbles, becomes a song in the June breeze of my yard.

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Lasting just long enough – like a song circling your mind until the next one comes out, the lilacs are here to fill my world with a minuet from the composition of the season.

flowerpots and the news

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I don’t know what people expect you to be doing when you’re not punching the timecard in the 9-5 world.  When you’re in between contracts, or stepping slowly into new opportunities (as they say which is also known as job hunting and interviewing and that cycle).

Me?  Well, I’ve been doing some creative stuff with flower pots. And watching the news. Lots and lots of news.  Continue reading

the gazebo, dandelions and the 9 o’clock rabbit

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Well, now I know that 10 x 10 doesn’t necessarily mean 10 x 10.  Looking to replace the fabric canopy top of my deck gazebo after several seasons, I find the actual replacement for the model I need on line…..to be shipped from deep in the USA….which is a moot point since it’s out of stock.  Okay, finding one that looks just like mine although  a different brand name,  I order it on-line in Canada and it’s shipped to a local distributor.

It looks like it will work, but the only way to find out is to wrestle it up and on and see.  Climbing up on my mini step-ladder onto the glass table (I know…… ) and here is where I found out that 10×10 means 9.5 and won’t squeeze, stretch or in any way fit.  That’s a lot of fabric to handle made more interesting as the wind picked up.  With  visions of showing up on the neighbour’s acreage to rescue my flying canopy top from the side of their garage, I quickly snagged the thing down, folded it up stuffed it back in the bag and took it back to the store.

Step # 3.  Just say screw it and buy a new gazebo. Frame and all.  Which I did. Thinking the new 10×10 top would fit I once again hefted it up and over the frame and tried it on the existing frame.  Big no. Now I’m going to have to build the whole thing.   It’s no wonder the frame of the original gazebo never moved.  We screwed that baby down to the deck never to move again.  I ended up taking the original frame top off with much gnashing of teeth and a few broken nails (damn!) and built the new gazebo inside the old one.  Put the top on and voila, a gazebo. If only I could package the fun that was! (Insert sarcasm here.)

The gazebo work was frustrating so mowing the lawn was to be my stress relief because I like to mow the lawn.  It’s dandelion13f41319b78c6c8366ab2c8a6e1aa2d756354b0d.jpeg time in my neck of the woods and since I live in the woods on acreage, we don’t use poison on our land; we mow the “lawn” consisting of a mixture of some real lawn grass, some weeds and of course dandelions.  This time of year the fields are yellow polka dot quilts with dandelions.  Unlike my “townie” friends who have perfectly manicured lawns of green velvet, I live through the dandelion time, into the clover time and then in a good year, green grass until the fall.

The thing about dandelions though, is that they are crafty.  Spiteful.  They hear the lawnmower coming and lay down like a stunt man flattening himself only to spring right  up after the car runs over him.  Not only do the dandelions spring back up, they wave their sunshine heads around on long lanky stems a good 3 inches above the freshly mowed stripe of lawn.

It turns me into a dandelion-mowing crazy woman as I go back and forth trying to catch them, losing sight of my quarry as they close up and tuck themselves in for the evening.  Come sunup, and HELLO! here we are again.  This is the spring-time ritual we dance through until they blow away and make way for clover to feed the bees.

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Pulling into the driveway late in the afternoon, I admire my lawn with waving yellow smiles in it and my canopy freshly topping off the gazebo.

My 9 o’clock rabbit was intent on nibbling grass on the edge of the driveway and after looking at me turned away and kept on munching. He usually shows up at 9 0’clock every night for a lawn snack (thus the name) but was out early this afternoon.  He perked up as I opened the trunk of my car bursting with bedding plants; flowers and vegetables to transform my world with the magic of garden gloves, dirty knees and the smell of fresh earth.

Heading to the porch with a flat of flowers balanced in each hand, I heard a rustle behind me and turned around to see my rabbit hopping to the car.  He stood up and in his little rabbity voice said “hey Sue, sommathatforme?”  His nose twitching, giving me a two-toothed rabbit smile.

I said “nope, do your job and eat the dandelions”.

And that was my week so far.