Other than approximately six minutes yesterday afternoon, we haven’t seen the sun above my little world for six full days.
I don’t mind a rainy day, or two. But six running strikes me as overkill. The universe should take note. Overkill. Give it a rest!
Plus, I whine as during those six days I couldn’t just hunker down at the keyboard.
Early last week I had an afternoon meeting, so BW and I took advantage and hit my very favorite nursery for a truckload of plants. On this cool morning I now realize I was too enraptured (as always) by the glorious spread of flowers, and the delight of their possibilities to appreciate the sunshine. Plus I spent a lot of time in the greenhouses loading flats of bedding plants into carts–with BW warning me (as always) they had to fit in the truck.
Honestly, I’ve got a pretty good gauge of how much we can jam in there after all these years–though I do tend to push it some. But who would blame me? I’m delirious with the scents, the shapes, the colors, the textures. The annual spring trip to the nursery just lifts my spirit. My place is owned and operated by Mennonites. They also lift my spirit as they’re unfailingly helpful, soothingly pleasant and cheerful, and offer some of the loveliest flowers, trees, shrubs, vegetables in the area.
I could spend days there.
But we’ve got a meeting. It’s as I’m checking out–carts lined up, two delightful women counting my plants, BW rolling carts to the truck–the sun says bye-bye. The wind whips up, the clouds roll in.
By the time we finish jamming the plants in–and I don’t mind holding a flat of heliotrope on my lap–it’s gone from cool to chilly. Before we get home, the rain’s pattering.
I think, that’s okay, it’s good for the plants and I can’t play with them until the weekend anyway.
I think the same when I’m back at my keyboard the next day, and the rain’s falling.
But the next, I’m heading into Boonsboro–another afternoon meeting, this one with my new publisher, my agent and my editor. I’m delighted they’re making the trip, had hoped to offer them a pretty day. But it’s chilly and raining. We’ll make the best of it.
This day starts early for me as I’m trying out Talon Studio, a fairly new shop in town. Here we have fascinating artwork, cool jewelry, interesting bits and pieces. And tattoos. I’ve thought long and hard about my third tattoo–what, where, why. Initially I’d figured on waiting for it until we visit Ireland again, as I’d gotten my others there. But I’m all for supporting local businesses.
Laura meets me there for the fun and support, and the owner operator, Raya, has everything set up. She’s also wonderfully pleasant and easy. I pick my colors, she places the stencil–inside of my right forearm, just below the elbow. Exactly right.
Then I’m on the table, and we chat as we go. My first tat–the Trinity Knot on my ankle hurt stupendously. The ohm symbol on my shoulder blade, not at all. Ankles are bone, and shoulder blades have a lot more muscle. I’d say this one fell between, much closer to the ohm than the knot. And, as Laura timed it, we were done in 12 minutes. And it’s exactly right, exactly what I wanted. I love it.
Because you’ll ask–it’s the five fold symbol. There are various meanings, and my particular favorite has the four outer circles representing the four elements, with the center circle representing the magick that connects them. This suits me all around.
Getting inked isn’t for everybody, but for those who may be considering this sort of body adornment, I can attest Talons and Raya offer a comfortable, clean, efficient and happy experience.
Off we go back into the rain, do some shopping. Then New York comes to Boonsboro. I’m delighted to see my girls again, and to meet my new guy. Also delighted to offer them lunch at Vesta (Vesta has a terrific new menu), spend time with them. Fortunately by the time we finish, the rain takes a break. It’s cool and cloudy, but no need for the umbrellas so we can have a little tour of the town. And there are worse ways to spend a couple of hours on a damp cool spring day than drinking some wine in Inn Boonsboro, snuggled up in front of the fire in The Library.
BW and I topped off the day by attending Boonsboro High School’s spring musical production of Godspell. It’s so bright, so happy, so colorful–and the kids are so obviously having the time of their lives. I love seeing the house is packed–Boonsboro supports its arts as well as its sports. I love knowing Mr. Baer–who taught my Jason and sparked his interest in Theater–continues to do the same for this generation. So from tattoos to a visit from New York to high school musicals, a really good day. Even when the rain came back.
But it’s still raining on Friday. I’m at the keyboard again, telling myself the forecast for the weekend can’t be right. I’ve usually started gardening by this time, but my weekends have proven jammed with other things. This is my only shot! Next weekend is Derby. The universe will surely cut me a break.
Saturday morning. Rain, chilly, breezy. Damn it! By late morning, the rain’s taken another break–though not the chill or the breeze. But we head out, my man and I.
I love the process. Taking plants, placing them–still in their pots–where I think they should go. Adjusting, fiddling, deciding. Then digging in. My gardening gloves get soaked, the chilly and raw breeze isn’t welcomed. But . . . look how lovely, how happy. And how satisfying it all is. Possibility becomes reality with some good, steady work. All that color, those shapes, those textures begin to blend together in my gardens, along with the perennials, already growing lush in this strange, teasing spring.
Planting the faerie garden I think of Kayla, leave some impatiens for her to plant if she wants–and leave the bulk of the little decorations for her to place. It’s pretty amazing to look back at the truck, see it’s nearly cleaned out–and to realize I’ll make another trip to the nursery after Derby weekend.
Normally, after a full day of planting we’d have ourselves an adult beverage on the back patio sitting on our outdoor recliner set and survey some of the fruits of our labors. Saturday evening, we have those adult beverages inside, and I turn on the fireplace.
That night it pours.
And is pouring when I go out to the gym to work out in the morning. I still have pots to plant, but I can do that under the cover of the back carport. In the chilly damp. With two dogs in my face half the time.
No question I need another trip for more, but I so enjoy playing with the pots, deciding what looks best with what, how they’ll look once they begin to fill in, trail out.
The rain stops, and for about five minutes I see the sun–there is hope! Light and shadows, birds singing. I can go around to the front patio, start playing with those pots. Count the ones I’ll need to fill after that second trip. And the vegetables will have to wait as well. But it’s now warm enough (barely) and though it’s clouded over again, it’s not raining so I can pour an adult beverage and walk around to see all we’ve accomplished in one wet weekend.
And when I take my walk on this first day of May, on Beltane, I’m grateful for spring, for the flowers that will make me smile for months, for all the walks and patio sitting and throwing balls for dogs yet to come.
We had a wicked thunderstorm last night, and the rain poured as I wrote this. But just now, the sun’s pushed through the clouds, and my woods are gorgeous and green. Maybe, after the work day, the work out, I’ll take a walk in the sun and smell the flowers.