The tail end of the painting of the farmhouse is getting to be a tail without a visible end.
Are you finishing the trim today? It’s just one more of the series of brilliantly sunny days we’ve been having.
I’m stuck. I know he has a rotting board to replace and there isn’t a good way of doing it except lying flat on the sloping roof over it. I can understand why he would postpone that step. But there’s more to it: I’m not sure if I can get the wasps out from where they’re hiding.
Can’t you just for that one bit of wasp nest spray them out of there?
It would kill them. I may have to wait until fall, when the cold air pushes them out.
And the front entrance. That same front entrance, for which I had drawn elaborate designs last year. Will you get to that this year?
Oh, I don’t know.
Oh, I don’t know.
On the other hand, as we sit over breakfast on the porch, he looks up and once again throws out the idea of painting the ceiling white. We’ve left the wood naked and plain and we think a coat of white paint would considerably spruce things up.
Such a project though. I suggest doing two beams and sections a day. We’d be done in ten days.
That’s Ed’s operative word. Maybe. And since most of the work that accompanies these projects is done by him, I can’t say that I am in a good position to nudge things forward. And so I take care of the flowers and we talk about projects and the days pass and they’re good days and really, everything else is less important.
Okay, let me walk you through the pics for today:
Breakfast on the porch. No surprise there. Yawn...
Then, as we pluck beetles off the rose bushes, I look up and see yet again (and I’m sure it wont be the last time) how lovely the farmhouse is right now, framed by roses and coreopsis and nasturtium and yes, still the lilies and cone flowers and and and... all of it.
But back to the ongoing competition between the two of us: who can spot the most beetles to pluck. In doing this, we pay close attention to the bees – today we find a new friend – the brown bee that I generally associate with hives in Poland or France, not one we’ve seen here in recent years and so we are jubilant. Every new type of bee is a friend.
And I check my little Yellow Rose of Texas (well, she’s probably not from Texas, but it recalls that song) and noted that she’s putting on that final burst of bloom before retreating for the season. So, here’s one for you, girl. You stuck it out in your new home this difficult year. I’m proud.
...while Isis watches...
...and Ed tempts me with melted curds on garden tomato.
As for my big writing project – well, I’m pretty much done for now. I need to do a big rewrite (it’s not the first, not even the second, more like the third and in some section, the fourth or fifth) and I want to take my time with that. By this time next year, I’ll surely be finished.
The last paragraphs were crafted while humming birds darted ever so quickly in and out of my flowers (Look carefully -- they're there!). I’ll always remember that.
So, I should celebrate, no? In my own way, I do. We go to Paul’s and Ed dozes and I drink a blueberry tea and after, we play a spirited game of tennis and he tells me – you’re getting better...
In the evening, I toss a salad, steam corn cobs and sautee Oyster mushrooms, eggs and garden chives. Our resident farmer’s sister comes to our door and gives us many many cucumbers. The day ends with the fresh and honest. Life is so beautiful.