BEAUTIFUL BLUE-SKY DAY

Today was a beautiful blue-sky day …

… so, I decided to start prepping the castle’s garden space.

The humidity was high, but I did not have to use my inhaler – thank the Lord. Birds were singing, lawn mowers were buzzing over lawns, neighbors were chatting back and forth across lots … life seemed almost normal.

As I pulled my garden tools out of the shed, and started turning the soil over in my garden boxes, I was missing my man. Big time. I am still not used to having him gone from my life. Bob should be here, smiling and watching me enjoy his designs, specifically crafted for me to enjoy.

Maybe Bob was present and I just didn’t know it. I believe Scripture tells me that Bob can still see me – it’s not the same of course because I am not aware of his presence now; but I do believe he sees me. All around me, life was unfolding. Everything seemed almost normal.

I had turned over 4 boxes before coming to the leeks bed:

The violas have re-seeded prolifically all over the lot, so I yanked them out of the garden boxes, and didn’t bother to transplant them. Some of the over-wintered leeks were beefing up pretty nice – but some had struggled among the viola patches, so I lifted those and transplanted them among the larger ones. The bed looked pretty tidy, and the struggling transplants should take, and shoot up healthily …

 A little further down the line, I was able to glean a nice bit of over-wintered ‘Mascara’ lettuce and a few over-wintered scallions: I hustled those gleanings inside to keep fresh in a cup of water until I was finished prepping the garden boxes. I was a little breathless from the high humidity, strenuous labor, and dust floating in the air … but I wasn’t concerned enough to use the inhaler. I wasn’t feeling the onset of asthma. I am determined to live my life uninterrupted by asthma concerns. The steroids in the inhaler can cause cataracts – I need my eyesight. And my asthma is controllable with little reliance on the inhaler.

Coming to the last garden box, I saw that the over-wintered parsnips were ready to be harvested; so, I pulled those, and took them inside too. I like the scent of parsnips – clean and crisp like a breath of Spring air. I think I’ll make a batch of parsnip soup with these roots:

Parsnips, Lettuce, Scallions, & Miner's Lettuce

As I turned over the soil in each box, I covered them with plastic netting to keep neighborhood cats out of the soil – and to keep birds from stealing seed once I start seeding my garden area; I couldn’t seed today – and I didn’t weed the Lot either: I’ll do those things another day. My main concern today was prepping the garden area …

All garden boxes are now ready to receive transplants.

Yesterday, I pulled my geraniums from under the front porch; watering them and setting them in place again, on the front steps and along the porch railing; there is new growth on some … but some don’t look so good – seeing that I may lose a few, I was glad I kept the Fall pruning’s and rooted them in the house over-winter: ALL of these geraniums are well over 2 decades old, and many of them have special memories connected to the receiving of them. I hope they ALL rebound, but if some don’t, I have the rooted transplants from the mother plants, and I bought a few more at the Adna Floral Market when I was there Wednesday afternoon. I love geraniums, and can always find room for new ones ;-)

New geraniums bought April 15^th, 2020

Geranium cuttings trimmed & repotted - September 12th, 2019. Some of the mother plants are 25- & 20-years old.

The garden area prepped and netted, I put my gardening tools in the shed, ate Supper, dropped off into a 2 hour catnap … and started painting one of the plant stands after I returned from the ‘Land of Wynken-Blynken-and Nod’ ;-)

I wanted a color to match the terra cotta bird bath I always set on it, in my garden area. But I didn’t have any ready paint colors that would give me the desired effect, so I blended 2 paints on a sturdy paper plate to make the color I wanted … and I applied the paint with a sponge wedge (I quartered a round bath sea sponge), and touched up a few spots with a tiny paint brush:

Blended entire contents of both 'Sweet Potato' & 'Chestnut' paints to make a terra cotta tint.

It took time to finish the project, but the acrylic paint dried pretty fast, and I’m happy with the outcome :-D

All I need to do now is spray it with a clear paint sealer so the rains don’t wash the water-based paint away.

I'm liking it!

Close match. And my hands are so red (you can see it in the picture) - they burn too, from all the hand washing and use of sanitizer: I'm going to STOP doing both 24/7. My hand skin is literally cracking & bleeding. I can't have this much chemicals on my skin every day.

All it needs now is a sealer.

Tomorrow – maybe – I’ll paint the other plant stand ;-)

WHEN ~ April 15th, 1974

46 years ago, when Bob & I first met face to face, it was on Main Street in Catlamet. I was passing by Kerstetter’s Grocery Store, and a mutual friend saw me, and was quickly hustling Bob out of the Arcade – directly across from Kerstetter’s – and running him across the street to introduce us to each other, saying to each of us, “You should get to know each other – you’ll like each other.”

I wasn’t interested. I was already dating someone else. I gave Bob a cursory glance; and moved on. Out of sight: out of mind. I can’t speak for Bob, but that’s how it was for me.

The next time Bob & I met face to face, it was at his house. In Cathlamet. It was a fluke meeting … and we were both caught off guard. I was at a house party (in Bob’s house, where Doug rented a room) with Doug – my steady fella since the 6^th Grade. We had an understanding, if not an official engagement. Everyone KNEW we were going to make it final one day. Bob had been visiting his son in Portland, OR (he and Gloria had been separated since November 1973); he walked through the door, I carded him, we laughed: it was love in the making. We started talking and spent the remainder of the evening together, comfortably learning more about each other until my midnight curfew. Bob walked me home, and kissed me tenderly.

Bob was always gentle with me.

I told him I didn’t date married men. I didn’t want to hear from him again as long as he was legally married. He knew I meant it.

I walked into my parent’s house and put that night out of my mind. I was 17, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew that married people talked about divorce – and sometimes it happened, but most often it didn’t. Bob was 24 and had a 4 year old son. Married people usually tried to work things out when a child was involved. Bob was legally married even though his wife was openly living with another man since their November 1973 separation.

I loved Bob – I had loved him when I first saw his face in 1967 … 7 years earlier when I was a love-struck 10 year old, pathetically waiting for him to walk past me at the corner of the school building: he never even noticed me. He noticed me at his house, though, in 1974. I loved Bob: I had always loved Bob, and I knew then that I would always love Bob. BUT, I was not interested in becoming a corner to a love triangle.

I put Bob out of my thoughts: out of sight, and out of mind.

Married people talked about divorce.

I wasn’t going to get caught up in that.

When I heard from Bob again, it was tonight – 46 years ago. A Monday. He called my parent’s house around suppertime, after he got home from work. I don’t know how he got my phone number, but I thankful he did :-D

But, I have to admit, when I picked up the receiver and heard his voice, I did not know who was calling. Even when he said his name … I didn’t know (out of sight; out of mind); until he said, “Gloria filed divorce papers April 1^st; I’d really like to see you Friday night if you’d like to do something together.” THEN I KNEW!

And ((((YES!)))) I would like very much to see him Friday night :-D

Bob was the love of my life.

A face without a Name.

 

Now the face had a name.

And the face with a name wanted to spend time with me.

I was on Cloud 9 :-D

But I was also stepping out cautiously.

Married people talked about divorce: sometimes it happened, but most often they made up and stayed married.

Bob had told me that though he’d been married for 6 years, he and Gloria had only really been {married-married} for a ‘maybe a year’: she was always leaving him and running home to her mother. They had gotten married very young: Bob was 19 and Gloria was 16. They were basically children playing house, and Gloria got bored with being a housewife quite a lot - they both hurt each other; spiteful things people do when they are miserable. There was a lot of hurt with plenty of blame going both ways. This separation though, she was openly living with Dale – her soon to be 2^nd husband. And she had filed the papers.

I was stepping out Friday night cautiously.

Hoping my comfortable Cloud 9 didn’t dissipate.

I was 17.

Bob was 24.