I spent all of yesterday in the garden.
[Not 'all', of course, but many hours.]
It is chilly first thing in the morning and the sun is at a lower slant which doesn't warm the wicker bench on the front porch.
The house felt too cool, so when the cats insisted I get out of bed, I put on an old pair of sweatpants, and layered on a top and a raggedy zip-up hoodie.
I stamped out into the sparkling dew-wet morning, booted, and bustling to keep warm.
Horse fed, cats fed, litter boxes cleaned. I've been stuffing paper and cloth snippings into the downstairs stove all summer. It seemed a good morning to add a few pieces of dry wood and set it all alight.
The warmth drifted up the stairwell and took away the chill inside, even as the sun warmed the air outside and dried up the dew.
I ate homemade soup for breakfast with toast from homemade bread.
[One can have unconventional meals when the husband is away!]
I took my camera out and plodded around the lower gardens.
This savoy cabbage was a-glitter with dew--the photo doesn't do it justice.
This photo pleases me--although more of a lucky shot than because of any skill in using the various
Only a few hovering butterflies where even a week ago there were many.
As autumn moves along flowers, butterflies, food from the garden, become ever more precious.
The late Michaelmas daisies have sprawled out from their center, a tumble of muted purple.
Edward waits for me under the sweet gum tree.
Raisin, J.'s very elderly cat, was out of sorts when she found that her favorite porch chair is no longer
in the sunlight.
After huffing and complaining, as only a Siamese cat can do, she settled for a spot on the rug
by the front steps.
I decided to clear the small garden behind the clothesline.
It didn't fare well this summer as the heaviest rains cut a sharp path through, taking out the clumps of dianthus I planted in May. I located 3 of the 5 peonies, clinging to the soil for dear life.
Achillea has struggled on through wet and weeds.
I have some thoughts of moving the peonies, making do here with annuals.
This was all cleaned and weeded early in July--just in time for the rains.
I began weeding around 11 o'clock and worked until almost 5--with a short break or two.
I spent the final 45 minutes of my work day weeding in the lower flower strip--visible just below the main garden where the phlox and salvia are flourishing.
The phlox has a sweet scent.
The dianthus here has flourished and spread--I may move some of the clumps which are being a bit pushy.
The late roses are a bit raggedy, but cherished as the 'last roses of summer.'
As usual, by the time I quit gardening I was stiff, aching, suddenly tired enough to drop.
I staggered in for a hot shower, a mug of tea, clean clothes.
Grandson D. was waiting to go to Wal Mart with me.
I handed him the key and requested that he drive granny to the store!
I had managed that morning after 15 annoying minutes on the phone, to cancel our DISH network service!
My errand at WM was to buy a Roku streaming 'thing' so that J. can have Netflix for movies and such.
D. read the instructions, fitted wires and plugs, then I sat at J.'s desk and using his now unfamiliar to me laptop, entered the information to register the wireless device and sign on to Netflix.
A number of free 'channels' loaded as well including a sort of video game called 'Angry Birds.'
D. demonstrated to the amazement of Bobby McGee.
Somehow I can't imagine J. being intrigued by a video game.
I'm not one for watching TV at this stage in my life, although years ago I enjoyed Public Television in the evening--specially the BBC offerings such as Mystery and Masterpiece Theater.
Should I take the notion, I can watch some of those shows, and re-acquaint myself with such favorites as All Creatures, Great and Small--perhaps Poldark is available.
I can see it now--the old couple glued to the action on-screen during a long winter's evening!
Wednesday morning, my last day home alone, still dark when the cats and I woke at a few minutes before 6.
The front yard, all mist, shimmer, sunlight and shadows at 8.
Too chilly to take my mug of coffee out to the porch.
I dressed in the heavy old jeans and scruffy pullover I wear for painting, did the usual chores while waiting for the sun to move around and shine through the trees into the carport.
I taped off the glass sections of the back door, applied green paint to match the trim on the garage.
I was about to put away the paint when I realized the only bit of dull blue still around was the shabby cupboard built into one side of the carport.
It backs up to a decorative wall of brick and I should guess its another of Mr. Rogers' frugally constructed examples of farm carpentry.
Even on a step-stool the top edge was out of comfortable stretching reach--the resulting paint strokes aren't the best example of 'cutting in.'
We will need to make another trip to Lowes when J. is home to purchase two more sets of shutters for the back of the garage--I wonder why we didn't get them on the initial trip for supplies.
Night has settled hours ago; my rocking chair and a book beckon me to spend a few minutes before the cats and I go to bed.