Reading: Greenlanders

In the midst of: Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

Not yet given up on: John Milton, Paradise Lost;

On deck: Don Quijote

Moving: gardening

House:

Garden:

6 May 2002: Big Easy

And on the seventh day, I rested.

Friday my Big Easy Preplanned Garden in Jumbo Pots arrove, and I removed each plant from its plastic bag and greeted it as I set it on the porch. Saturday morning, I attacked the cherry tree's progeny in the back yard until I heard the doorbell ring, which heralded the arrival (not arroval: driven not droven) of the other plants, mostly groundcovers, in wee little pots.

First I thought I could do what the iconography on the groundcloth wrapper suggests: cutting an X through pegged groundcloth, digging a hole, and planting the plant therein. Maybe I'm not a good hole digger. I unpegged and folded back cloth, dug holes, scratched up soil, dusted with Yum Yum Mix, removed plants from pots, roughed up rootballs, and planted. Agastache, lavender, Russian sage, salvia, catmint, Greek Yarrow, and penstemon strictus. Sunday I planted the groundcovers--erodium, veronica, another penstemon, and snow-in-summer. And then I was done.

Blake had enjoyed all of this, mostly. Toward the end of the working day Saturday he started fussing, and since it was almost 4:00 I thought he wanted his supper. But when I headed for the bathroom, he begged for a shower. Had he wanted a shower in his cage? He only started liking being showered in his cage, outside, this year. We've seen him stick his head in his water dish and shake, as if trying to bathe, and given him a shallow bowl of water (which he ignores) and sprayed him while outside-in-his-cage. The latter he has responded to once, last month. I maybe would have thought that's what he wanted Saturday if it hadn't been overcast, the loony. Sunday he was glad for me to stop at 2:00. I showered and offered to shower him; he sat on my finger, hulched and scowling, so I stopped.

And then we sat in the back yard and read for three hours (I brought his spray bottle, but he wasn't interested). I finished Greenlanders. I did not paint the final four screens. I did not pluck cherry sproutlets. I didn't peg groundcloth over the south garden, which hasn't sprouted anything but weeds after my seeding it with carrots over here and columbine, delphinium, and cornflowers over there more than a week ago. It did get cold again after I sowed the seeds, but I figure my not-watering hurt more. I just read. I love Jane Smiley.

I didn't go to Home Despot to get more bordering to finish the south garden, more hose, better clippers (I have pruners, for trees, but I want something to hold in one hand, not two. I didn't go to Wild Birds Unlimited or PetsMart to get more birdseed. I didn't go to CostCo or Wild Oats or Safeway. I just read. I can do all that evenings this week. If I can schedule my time never to run an errand on a weekend, that will be Just Right.

After that, I finally sat at my computer for a spell. Blake continued his independent act by begging for the top bookshelf, but soon enough he whined for rescue. I just tidied my email, not having used my computer in several weeks. I was going to write an entry--garden, Possession, Shelters of Stone, Greenlanders--but watched the Simpsons instead. I would love a wired laptop, except if I had one I might never leave the couch.

The other thing that happened Saturday morning was the TreeCycle mulch giveaway. We borrowed SPM's truck, a frightening beast that did actually serve its purpose and didn't die or even stall too scarily, and scampered southeast toward a big mound of...what, they call that mulch? Last year I picked up two Cassidyloads of mulch, mostly evenly chopped pieces of tree, not a lot of needles, the occasional strand of tinsel. This year, big chunks of trunk, lots of needles. Lots and lots of needles that will turn to decent loam in not-very-long and harbor weeds, log-like lengths of bole suitable for bonfires, a lot of tinsel and even one plaster ornament with a chip out of it. I'm not overly pleased, but it was free. I wanted to mulch around each of my new plants and cover the groundcloth, but not with that. I might buy some instead.

The ornament represents a sun. I'm trying to think of it as a replacement for the one I broke in December. I am disappointed that after five months of tracking on ebay, my particular ornament hasn't turned up. I kept the box the ornament came in because it was my Especially Special Ornament, and lo, it's a designer. Who knew? Certain ornaments come up all the time. I considered buying a Rhett Butler for my sister, but I still haven't bought anything on ebay and it scares me a little. If I wanted a Boot with Presents, I'd have one by now. It stuns me that people buy ornaments and keep them mint-in-box like Stinky Pete for years. I guess that's one of the things about collecting I Don't Get. Of course, it was by actually using my ornament that I broke it, and I should recognize better such things are ephemera. But not when they're Mine.

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Last Sunday Uberboss had a party for Trey and her fiance, who also works at Dot Org. I had never been to his house before and spent most of the party oohing and aahing over his house and garden and collections rather than chatting with the Happy Couple. I suck. But the house is wonderful, a Victorian; and the garden is full of tulips (sold by another Dot Org for the League of Women Voters); and books line almost all the walls that aren't taken up by his collection of architectural toys and trains. Wow.