Hello, there. Me again.
I’ve been working on a post for you for the past few weeks—struggling with it, editing and re-editing, really taking it to the mat to show who’s boss.
I finally got the darn thing done, complete with photos. I decided to make a cup of coffee before final review and posting. Went off, ground my beans, performed my usual French press ritual of brown smooth goodness, and then, warm mug in hand, toddled back to my computer.
I sat down, and discovered that a very interesting thing had occurred while I was off French-Pressing: my labour-of-love post had become BORING. Boring. All that writing, and editing, and yet more editing had just edited the life right out of that post.
Let’s begin afresh, shall we?
Welcome to Wiseheart Cottage!
We love this house. It has a serenity about it, and when you are inside it, or wandering around the garden, the place has an odd calming effect on both Melody and I.
It looks huge. I keep thinking, what about conspicuous consumption? What about living simply, walking lightly upon the earth? What about the PROPERTY TAXES?!
Nevermind all that for now, I suppose: It’s ours. We shall have plenty of time to ponder the philosophical ramifications of all that lovely money we handed over a few weeks back; meanwhile, we hope that the house will not be a solitary hermitage, but rather a place to celebrate all that is good with family and friends.
The house claimed us about fifteen minutes after we first entered the front door, about the time we g0t to the back of the house and saw this:
The back of the house is one big open room.
Friend or Foe: Name That Plant
I have never, ever, EVER, had a garden in my entire life. The previous co-owner of this house had a really good pair of gardening shears and knew how to use them. Upon seeing the lovely flowering plants all ’round, the lush bushes, the charming trees, my first thought was, “Please, God, do not let me kill any of this, at least not in the first year.”
In other words, I do not know Plant Friend from Plant Foe. I have been weeding a little bit each day, and here’s my weeding strategy: If it spreads out like a starfish low to the ground and looks a bit prickly, it is a FOE and it must GO. If it is a tiny cluster of Random Plantness that looks kind of nervous and out of place, as though it realizes it does not bear a familial resemblance to anything nearby, AND if it has no flowers, buds, fruit, or other redeeming qualities, then my logic says FOE and it, too, must GO. (I often pray whilst dragging these sorts out of the ground that I am not destroying some rare herb whose seeds not only can cure cancer, but can banish diarrhea forever, change the hearts of public nose-pickers, and knock sense into politicians of our choosing. With my luck, the rare herb would be the last speciman of its kind, and there’d I’d be, making Zee Wondur Plantz extinct.)
This is where you come in. I have several Growing Things whom I am fairly certain are Unwelcome Guests in my garden, but I’m not certain enough to go in with my purple gardening gloves and completely decimate them, using their roots to floss my teeth…oh, wow, Sandi, waaaayy out of hand, here, girlfriend. Just breathe and stop right there, there’s a good girl.
This post’s mystery plant is here:
And that, my friends, is probably enough for now.
We have so much to catch up on: what I am spinning for this year’s Tour de Fleece, what I am attempting to knit, despite 7 rip-out sessions, a quilt or two to show off, and the fleeces that came with me to the new house.
Till then, just two Chispas for your entertainment and inspiration:
- I hope this allays your fears. It also may bring to an end the careers of thousands of young adult dystopian end-of-the world authors. Sorry about that. That’s the way the cookie crumbles, I guess.
- Read this. And then, because you will be powerless to resist, go ahead and read the entire thing from the beginning. Go ahead. We’ll wait. There’s no shame here, not really. Especially since I’ve read the entire series TWICE.
much love and hope,