I am enjoying a week of being at home these days. I had taken this week for holidays long ago - before the impromptu trip to England in June - and even though all my holiday money was used I decided to go ahead and take this week off too. I'm not going to say that I wouldn't rather be out camping or traveling, but having spent a few days catching up on jobs that I've let slide way too long, I can't say that the time is being wasted.
This morning is a good example: all my original plan entailed was getting the recyclable cans and bottles into the SARCAN depot in town. My focus was rediscovering the floor in my utility room (where things like recycling seem to migrate to), but once I got started the work expanded to include the garage, as well. Not that the SARCAN project wasn't ambitious enough, but the garage job was one of those things that, if I had stopped to think about what a mess it really was, I would have cowered away from the whole works. As it happened, the task just kind of evolved and I was half way through before I realized how much I had taken on. By that time I was already sweaty and filthy, so why not just keep on until I was done? I wish I could actually see Glen's face when he pulls in tonight. I know I sure would be happy if he had cleaned it up while I was gone!
I spent Monday doing a full cut of the lawn. I knew my mower blades were past their prime, but I can't believe the difference since Glen put the new ones on. Once I started, I just wanted to see the whole yard neat and even. It was cold, though, and I was wearing a fleece jacket (in mid-July yet! We had frost on the quonset roof at 4:30 that morning!). By the time I was done mowing in and out of the evergreen shelterbelt I looked like a horror movie's idea of a candy floss cone. I don't know if this is just an exceptional year for spiders, or I 'm not usually wearing something their webs will stick too, but I was just coated in them. Let's just say I'm no fan of spider's webs - I'd rather deal with the actual bugs. I couln't lose that jacket fast enough. Thank goodness just washing it made them all go away.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
JUST FOR LAUGHS
SEE THE PRETTY GARDEN
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
See the pretty garden? I do confess, it is my pride and joy. Notice the rocks? Well, boulders, actually. How did so many of them happen to be in a farm yard? For those of you not
“in the know”, farmers do not like rocks. They tend to really hate them, in fact, but look at the multiple rocks in our yard. They don’t just happen to be there either, my Farmer hauled them in for me - ON PURPOSE. He really loves me.
Even in the winter you should see my pretty garden. There, in the pristine white snow is the stark blackness of a large maple tree ... and, you guessed it ... six or seven huge boulders hunkered down in the folds of a blanket of snow. Not many gardens get to be an artistic focal point even in the winter. It is a pretty garden.
But, there’s no denying it, come the growing season, my pretty garden gets prettier. Over the years I’ve been adding all kinds of perennials. As soon as the ground begins to warm up I’m out there looking for signs of life. The red sprigs of peonies, the green tufts of delphinium leaves, and columbine sprouts, carnations, sedum, shasta daisies, bleeding hearts, soapwort ... and a few things that my sister has given me that I don’t have a clue what they are. Every spring is like an Easter egg hunt as I wait for all my plants to show up. I always know when everything is there and accounted for - the hosta is always last.
Before I leave for work in the morning I go out and wander through my pretty garden. I pull a few weeds and plan what kinds of annuals I will put in this year. Soon you will see me out there tilling the earth up, nice and soft, ready for transplanting. You will also see two dogs laying on the lawn close by, all casual-like, biding their time. See them? Shifty characters!
I am gone to work now, and the Farmer is gone too. Now where are those dogs? Do you see them on the acres of lawn? Or out under the trees? Or patrolling the perimeters? No. You will not see them any of these places. You will see them in my rock garden. Chubby will have lumbered in under the maple and plunked himself down on as many columbines as he can possibly hit (which are quite a few, given his size), and Sam; well he’s more of a digger and has broken, bent, and up-rooted delphiniums like he had something personal against them.
Now, see me drive back into the yard. The dogs did, and they are nowhere near the pretty garden. But I know. I get out of my car and go over to inspect the day’s damage. Because this is a daily thing. Now, see me turn and look for the dogs who are trying their best to look nonchalant and are NOW making for the perimeter. See me go ballistic - again - ranting and raving and demonstrating my pitiful attempt to throw stones so they hit a target. The only thing I have ever been able to throw at a time like this is a fit. I’m getting pretty good at that.
What is Sam thinking when he stops and looks back at the lunatic jumping up and down in frustration? I think he’s a bit worried if I’ve had MY rabies shots, or not. He should worry. I haven’t.
See me, laying awake in the middle of the night, plotting different methods of ending dog damage in my pretty garden - and this time I’ve come up with a doozy. It was there all along; I just hadn’t seen the opportunity before.
See my pretty garden now. See the delphiniums, tall and straight? See the columbines delicately swaying in the breeze? See every single bedding plant exactly where I put it two weeks ago? Also, see Sam standing just outside the pretty white ribbon fence? See how that white ribbon runs over to the line of electric fence that goes around the pasture? See Sam realizing he needs a new hobby.
See my pretty garden?
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
See the pretty garden? I do confess, it is my pride and joy. Notice the rocks? Well, boulders, actually. How did so many of them happen to be in a farm yard? For those of you not
“in the know”, farmers do not like rocks. They tend to really hate them, in fact, but look at the multiple rocks in our yard. They don’t just happen to be there either, my Farmer hauled them in for me - ON PURPOSE. He really loves me.
Even in the winter you should see my pretty garden. There, in the pristine white snow is the stark blackness of a large maple tree ... and, you guessed it ... six or seven huge boulders hunkered down in the folds of a blanket of snow. Not many gardens get to be an artistic focal point even in the winter. It is a pretty garden.
But, there’s no denying it, come the growing season, my pretty garden gets prettier. Over the years I’ve been adding all kinds of perennials. As soon as the ground begins to warm up I’m out there looking for signs of life. The red sprigs of peonies, the green tufts of delphinium leaves, and columbine sprouts, carnations, sedum, shasta daisies, bleeding hearts, soapwort ... and a few things that my sister has given me that I don’t have a clue what they are. Every spring is like an Easter egg hunt as I wait for all my plants to show up. I always know when everything is there and accounted for - the hosta is always last.
Before I leave for work in the morning I go out and wander through my pretty garden. I pull a few weeds and plan what kinds of annuals I will put in this year. Soon you will see me out there tilling the earth up, nice and soft, ready for transplanting. You will also see two dogs laying on the lawn close by, all casual-like, biding their time. See them? Shifty characters!
I am gone to work now, and the Farmer is gone too. Now where are those dogs? Do you see them on the acres of lawn? Or out under the trees? Or patrolling the perimeters? No. You will not see them any of these places. You will see them in my rock garden. Chubby will have lumbered in under the maple and plunked himself down on as many columbines as he can possibly hit (which are quite a few, given his size), and Sam; well he’s more of a digger and has broken, bent, and up-rooted delphiniums like he had something personal against them.
Now, see me drive back into the yard. The dogs did, and they are nowhere near the pretty garden. But I know. I get out of my car and go over to inspect the day’s damage. Because this is a daily thing. Now, see me turn and look for the dogs who are trying their best to look nonchalant and are NOW making for the perimeter. See me go ballistic - again - ranting and raving and demonstrating my pitiful attempt to throw stones so they hit a target. The only thing I have ever been able to throw at a time like this is a fit. I’m getting pretty good at that.
What is Sam thinking when he stops and looks back at the lunatic jumping up and down in frustration? I think he’s a bit worried if I’ve had MY rabies shots, or not. He should worry. I haven’t.
See me, laying awake in the middle of the night, plotting different methods of ending dog damage in my pretty garden - and this time I’ve come up with a doozy. It was there all along; I just hadn’t seen the opportunity before.
See my pretty garden now. See the delphiniums, tall and straight? See the columbines delicately swaying in the breeze? See every single bedding plant exactly where I put it two weeks ago? Also, see Sam standing just outside the pretty white ribbon fence? See how that white ribbon runs over to the line of electric fence that goes around the pasture? See Sam realizing he needs a new hobby.
See my pretty garden?
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