Time has slowed down since the pandemic began. Weekend errands, drives to and from the aquatic center, and swim meets are all gone. We planned to sail on Saturday. We had the boat hitched up and drove further away from our house than we have in 72 days now. But the highway was closed, and … Continue reading Weekend of green leaves, books, and flowers
I’ve spent the past five days in the open air. I am on my annual garden vacation. Instead of listening to news of the coronavirus, I’ve been outside in garden gloves and hat. Over the past five years we’ve lived in our house, I’ve killed a lot of grass to create flower beds for butterflies. … Continue reading My work is (mostly) done. Now I can enjoy the garden.
I woke at 3:00 am and couldn’t get back to sleep. Warm air air that smells like summer drifted through our open window. I have a whole week ahead of me, dedicated entirely to my garden. All I could think about was, Where will I begin? Cleaning out leaves? Pruning rose bushes? Spreading mulch? I … Continue reading Garden vacation begins today!
Seven months into our courtship, I dropped the the man who eventually became my husband at the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail: Springer Mountain, Georgia. It was February 1. And according to townfolk along the trail, when he and his hiking partner made forays into towns for supplies, it was “the coldest/snowiest/worst winter we’ve … Continue reading March is a tease
I tried to read at the breakfast table yesterday while I ate warm oatmeal with craisins and walnuts. Instead of following the words on the page, though, my eyes kept looking through the sliding glass door. At the garden. A woodpecker and a red cardinal swung on the bird feeder, eating the sunflower seeds I … Continue reading Gardening in February
Snow clings to the boughs of the tall evergreens out back, glittering white chitons on the feather branches that droop under its wet weight. The deciduous trees, naked and twiggy, look like someone pulled a liner brush globbed with titanium white paint across the top of every branch. The flower bed sleeps under a thick … Continue reading Wind dancers