Old Grey Mare

J. slicing up lengths of carpet and backing ready to start laying down the pre-finished hardwood laminate we chose for flooring.  The living room has been in total disruption which distresses the cats. Bumbling about in the dark is not a good idea just now--unless one wants to walk smack into a stray bookcase or trip over a displaced chair.

J. no sooner started on the flooring project than we realized that frantic bird noises were issuing from the "column" at the end of the side porch.  A phoebe was determined to build a nest there in spite of my having made discouraging swipes with a broom.

Idiot bird fell down inside the hollow pillar.  J. jacked up the porch roof, removed the plate that partially covered the top of the column and the bird hastily exited.  It hasn't been back to resume nest building.

Meanwhile J. is tsk-tsking over the lack of sturdiness in the so-called column. The other end of the porch is supported by masonry.

Paint sample cards fascinate me and I collect them by the handful from building supply places.  So many tints and shades of every possible color--and such imaginative names.

I'm in process of painting the kitchen/dining area in the one labeled "homey cream."

J. painted an accent wall in the living room in the Laura Ashley Russet # 6.  [I was meant to be painting it, but he decided to "cut in" the edge of the ceiling for me, then I think he was enjoying spreading the color.]

The one quart we bought didn't cover the entire wall, so back to Lowes on Sunday for another qt.

J. took an alternate route to drive there [Campbellsville, the next town] and we enjoyed the beautiful spring scenery.

The order of nursery stock was delivered just after lunch today.

Paint rollers and flooring tools were set aside and we spent several hours in the garden.

My job was to sort the fruit trees and berry canes by varieties, lay them out by the appropriate holes and then hold the scrawny things in place while J. tenderly shoveled dirt around them.

This was overseen by Pebbles.  J. moved her pasture up past the old apple trees and set the electric fence to take in the lean-to portion of the nearer barn.

Pebbles stomped back and forth fussing for a good part of the day.  We think she is missing hob-nobbing over the fence with the cattle who are pastured on the adjoining farm. She is now too far removed from them to have neighborly chats.

As I have urged myself to keep up with the "things to do" list, as I have realized that I can no longer manage to paint spaces that are above my head, cannot in fact, get as much accomplished as I once did, I've found myself humming an old ditty.  Doleful words set to a jigging sort of tune.

The old grey mare she ain't what she used to be,

Ain't what she used to be,

Ain't what she used to be.

The old grey mare she ain't what she used to be, many long years ago.

It goes on--but you get the picture!

All fruit trees planted;  about six dozen berry canes in.

J. "turned" the space I requested for shrub roses and perennials and several extra strips for tomatoes and such.  In the morning we'll put in strawberry plants and my red "knock-out" roses.

 Meanwhile I creak and groan--and try not to recall that I decided in a moment of enthusiasm to paint all the bedroom woodwork in a lovely color called "Cinnamon Swirl."  The gallon of paint awaits my pleasure.