At least around here. BW and our younger son headed off to Indy for the race this weekend. Fun for them. And I freely admit I did a little happy dance. Come on, let’s be honest. We love our mates, but a little alone time is . . . ahhhh.
Especially for the solitary type. May has been insane for me. Derby, two weddings, Girls’ Night Out, and next weekend a ballgame. This was the only full weekend home, and I was home alone. Just me and the dogs and the quiet. Oh yeah, big ahhhh.
I started the weekend with some in-the-house chores. I’m giving the commencement address for Boonsboro High School’s graduation, so wrote that, picked up around the house, did my workout, then hit the garden. While I’m weeding and deadheading, the mobile groomer (I LOVE this service) has the dogs in his big van. By the time they’re done, all clean and shiny and with fresh new bandannas, I’m back to dividing and transplanting since everything I did last weekend seems to be holding.
There were some questions about fairy gardens, so here’s mine. The backstory here’s a sweet one. Years ago at the far, shadiest end of my garden wall butterflies nested (do they nest?) one spring. Whenever we’d walk by they’d fly out, dozens and dozens of them in a gorgeous cloud. My granddaughter was so charmed, I told her they were fairies. She was, I think, about six. So every year since, she and I have done a fairy garden in that area.
I change it up–fairies can get bored–but we always plant the foxglove you see in the background, and azuratum and mini fuschia. We put in little statuary, and this year I hung a wind chime on a branch.
It’s also expanded so we have more foxglove, lobelia, red rocket begonias, lungwort, backed by yellow bells that’ll bloom in the summer. Between are the ubiquitous Susies.
I ended my very satisfying day with a little movie marathon and popcorn. Good deal.
Sunday, I decide to get my workout done first thing. Not so many chores today. While I’m working out, I hear a bird hit the window. Not the bump that tells me there’s a bird with a little headache, but the violent thump that says broken neck. It happens, sadly. And this, I tell myself as I sweat through crunches, is a job for BW when he gets back. I don’t deal with dead things. It’s in my contract.
BW’s brought home a couple of plants from Vesta that need repotting. He was going to do it, but they’re still sitting there. It’s a simple little chore, and I don’t mind. After, I start a walk-around, spot a deer up on the ridge behind the house. We have a conversation. You’re beautiful, but stay beautiful up there and out of my garden. I think she’s the same I had this conversation with last week. The dogs see her, too, but aren’t interested. Not even a bark to give her second thoughts about coming down later and munching on my plants. I glance over as Homer walks up to me, tail wagging. And see he’s gently carrying the dead bird in his mouth.
He’s like George from Of Mice And Men. He really just wants to be friends, and he–as he’s done before–is bringing me his new friend. And is sad when I–as I’ve done before–let out a instinctive squeal, and order him to take that thing somewhere else. He lumbers away. Now and again he’s gotten past me with his friends, and I have to herd him and his pal out of the house. Laura will remember coming over one day, Homer coming in behind her. Is that a toy? she asked me. I glanced down, saw the long tail drooping out of Homer’s mouth.
Definitely not a toy, but a pretty big dead mouse. The happy smile in his eyes dimmed when I turned him right around and ordered him out.
He’s not quick enough to catch live ones–and is no more interested in that then barking at the deer. But a dead critter? He’ll pick in up and carry it around for hours. And in fact, hours later I see him lying in the shade, the dead bird snuggled between his paws. Oh well.
That concluded the excitement of the day. The rest I spent walking around, putzing, watering pots, sweeping patios, walkways, steps, then sitting and admiring the results. With a glass of champagne. Really good deal.
I love working outside with BW, and we’re both lucky to have a mate who’s passionate about gardens and yard work. But a little solo time? Yeah, big ahhhh.