Resistance To Change
Understanding Rothko

The Weekend

Saturday.  Quiet.  No alarm clock.  No meetings.  How long since I've had a day open up before me like this?

We have a yardwork day planned, and the weather is perfect for it.  The forecast predicted cloudy with a 20% chance of rain; but at this point, mid-morning, it's clear with a slight breeze and a temperature just shy of seventy degrees. 

The desk in my study is piled high with things demanding my attention, but I'm ignoring them for the time being.  The prospect of spending some hours in this beautiful weather doing something physical and productive outside is extremely appealing.  It's been months since we actually had a weekend at home to tend to some of this.    While the wall was being replaced, all of the deck furniture got piled up in a corner, so that all has to be washed down and put back in place.  The camellia bushes and the ivy in the courtyard have run riot, so we'll trim all of that.    The courtyard has a wonderful sort of New Orleans feel to it when it's nicely arranged.  And this time of year is perfect for sitting out on the deck to watch the sunset.

I've never had much interest in being a homeowner.  I was perfectly content to rent for the twenty years from the time I left Elm Street to the time I moved into Lynn's basement at Ivy Hills.  Sandy and I never even talked about buying a house, and when she and I split up, the thought never occurred to me.  So even though we share the mortgage on this place, I think of it as Lynn's house and generally defer to her in all matters of design & renovation.  Which is not to say that I don't love it.  As I sit here, watching the finches at the birdfeeder outside my window, I am astonished and tremendously grateful that the path of my life has taken me here.

Comments

Bruce the Almighty

Both Vikki and I are looking forward tremendously to sitting on your newly tidied deck in just over a weeks time! We too cleared the garden over the weekend and I have a blister on my hand to prove it - luckily it's my picking hand...

Lynn

We did, indeed, spend the weekend cleaning up the outside of the house. Scott, in an unexpected but much welcomed burst of enthusiasm, spent two days engaged in physical toil. He mowed and weeded, and trimmed and swept. Ours is a small house on a small plot of land, but it's still a lot of work to maintain. We hadn't cleaned the deck in years, and although we need to take another go at it (and I need to finish digging out all the nails and bits of glass that are stuck between the boards), the result of the deck cleaning was remarkable. Once that's done, then we can move the rest of the outside furniture out, I can arrange the new plants I bought. I can try growing a tomato plant or four. I found the perfect market umbrella to replace the one that the wind destroyed last year - and this one has little lights that make dining and even reading possible. Maybe this will be the year that I convince Scott to use insect repellant.

We saw the first hummingbird Sunday evening, and I had to jump right up from the table and prepare the sugar water for the new humming bird feeders. I couldn't stop myself.

Over dinner, Scott said, "can you imagine what this place could look like if we really had several weekends like this to get it in shape?" Yes, I can imagine it. But the perfect combination of glorious weather coupled with an obligation-free weekend is rare indeed.

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