a day of breaks

Yes, it's beautiful and warm and lovely outside. Yes, I really love this Fall weather. You could almost call it late summer. I should have worn shorts today, except that the mornings are brisk. But, despite all that prettiness around me, things are getting dicey here at Steffi's House. Time is running out.

Breakfast? Well that's always special, always leisurely and wonderful. And rosy: two blooms from Strike it Rich.

But then, things get twisted up in knots. Impossible to unravel. I drop off Millie, all the while thinking about everything that I need to accomplish today. For sure. No off ramps left!

First on my list is the farmhouse. I stop at there to print out several travel related tickets. I know I dont have to do this, but when you're standing in a long line to get into, say, a museum and your phone refuses to bring up the relevant file, or you can't see the file because the sun is out your glasses are hidden and the screen is one big white tableau, well, it's handy to have a paper copy in your purse.  

My computer turns its nose up at the printer. Honestly, Ed and I got this printer a couple of decades ago, but there is nothing wrong with it and it works just fine with Ed's cheap computer. My Apple, on the other hand says no, not workin' with that piece of junk!. Ed drags up my mom's even older and somewhat broken printer. My computer positively recoils. (Unfortunately, Ed swears that he can do a work-around. A shame. A neat little printer, nothing fancy, but new and preferably blue-tooth, would have been my solution.)

At home, I throw in a load of laundry and go out to mow Millie's yard. She needs to have trimmed grass for the week I am away (I have a house sitter who will be here with her). And of course, I butcher the drain pipe cover with the mower. I'd done that before. Not sure why the thing got in the way again but it did. I hurry to Amazon and here I get stumped. Most drain pipe covers fit a 4 inch diameter pipe. Exceptionally you'll find 6 inchers. Mine happens to be 5 inches. I took a ruler for pete's sake! How can this be? I need to cover the thing before I leave or else a zoomie moment may result in a broken Millie paw. So I order both, quickly, thinking that it would be my luck if neither fit.

I then water. And wait. For someone to get back to me on a rose that came with a ripped main cane. It's been days since I sent them an inquiry (I first notified them of this over the weekend). In the end I decide to put in the "broken" rose. It's not a great solution. It may survive the rip, but it surely will be weakened. But, I have a hole, I have a rose. Best to put it in and argue later.

Next -- I need to bring up a suitcase and hide it in the closet and pack when Millie's not looking. But tell me please -- when exactly is Millie not looking? She does not let me out of her sight. The weather for my week away is going to be pretty much the same over there as it is over here: warm-ish, no rain. That's great but I have no idea what to pack for it. Here, I'd be in shorts and an early morning/evening sweatshirt. That wont do where I'm going. I stare at my closet and walk away. I dont have time for this nonsense.

Three more roses arrive. I have time to put in one and then I rush to pick up Snowdrop.

I'd picked up Anne Carson's Wrong Nora -- a poetic prose collection. We chose one to read out loud. Now she knows what Gitmo is... 

Time to bring Millie home.

 

 

 

And of course, we step into chaos. Piles on the island. (Normally, my kitchen island stands bare.) Laundry heaps on the dryer. Two boxes, with roses, in the kitchen, because they were on the doorstep. Food for Millie. Food for me. I have to say, Millie takes one look at all the strange items in strange places... 

 

 

 

... and retreated to her reading chair, enveloping herself in its cushions. Yes, her reading chair. She has appropriated it as her own, shared with me only at breakfast. 

 Tomorrow, I will bring order into the day. Tomorrow.

with so much love... 

 

again

How many times can I say this before you get bored? Well I cannot help it. The weather is glorious and perfect, and there hasn't even been a threat of light frost, and my roses -- newly planted no less -- are still putting out the occasional bloom, and it is all very lovely.

(Scepter'd Isle rose)

(Sunrise, from one corner of Steffi's House -- with rose bed at the side -- to the other, during morning walk with Millie)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Breakfast bathed in sunshine.

I have noble goals for this day and I do get to some of them. Millie spends a half day at doggie daycare and that helps me accomplish a number of outside tasks. Like, for example, planting an onion right in the back of the rose bed.. Well, it's really a spring blooming allium. Same thing. The goal here is to put some companion plants into the rose bed. Not densely, but in a few spaces, and an allium not only has compatible blooms, it also has a fragrance. A distinct onion smell.

Planting it seems at cross purposes with what I have tried to do -- to create a very fragrant rose garden. But I'm hoping that the onion, stuck toward the rear, wont affect our nostrils, while at the same time that it scares away the aphids and insects that love roses but detest the smell of onion. One of those organic solutions that may or may not yield results, but at worst, I'll have pretty pink allium blooms poking out in between my Teasing Ginger and Parfuma Bliss roses. 

I do also plant roses today. Two of them -- the noble Francis Meilland and the lovely Boscobel. If you are a rosarian, you will have heard of Francis Meilland, after whom my Meilland rose was named. Here's a fun fact: I'm sure my father, who was not a gardener let alone a rosarian, heard of Francis Meilland. Let me tell you why.

Meilland was  a French horticulturalist and rose breeder. In the late 1930s, he developed a beautiful new rose -- yellow, with a touch of red at the edges. Disease resistant. Sending repeat blooms. But the Germans were about to invade and Meilland was concerned about the survival of his newest cultivar. So he sent cuttings to various rosarians around the world and importantly, one cutting left France on the last flight before the invasion and that one went to the United States. It was safely received and propagated in Pennsylvania. Different countries gave the rose different names. The US, along with Norway and Sweden, called it the Peace Rose and eventually it became recognized as that, officially given the name in April of 1945, on the day that Berlin fell. And later that year, Peace roses were given to each of the delegations at the inaugural meeting of the United Nations in San Francisco. My very young then father was part of the Polish delegation that went to San Francisco in 1945. 

In case you're wondering, I did also plant a Peace rose in my garden. May it bloom.

 

In the afternoon, Ed stops by. He came to help with the carrying of some heavy boxes to the basement, but he stays for a while, just because. Here's my chance! I have a wheelbarrow full of rocks and hard clay soil (today's diggings). I look up at him with puppy eyes and get him to do the odious task of pushing and dumping that wheelbarrow up the hill to where I usually unload extra soil and sod. Ed does tell me that I'd have an easier time of it if I didn't have a flat on my wheelbarrow. Who knew...

And then I continue my work outside until it is time to pick up Millie.

So, a grand day with rosy overtones. Again.

with so much love... 

hands down

What a handy expression! Hands down, the rosiest day this week. Maybe this year. Have you noticed how many phrases, idioms, adjective and participial phrases incorporate into them some variant of a "hand?" Hand, foot, face -- they're everywhere. So maybe you want to keep your hands clean and not face off with someone before you get your foot in the door? 

I'm thinking about hands right now because mine are a gardener's disaster. Yes, of course I wear gloves while working with roses, or any other plants. Mostly.Yes, I wash my gloves regularly. But perhaps not often enough. Yes I have multiple pairs, but somehow I always reach for the same gloves -- the ones that are easy to pull off and that look substantial. And yes, I use balms and creams. Nonetheless, my hands are calloused, lightly blistered, usually too dry, and with a new one added this year -- pricked all over. I laughed when on the LIVE rose sale show, the seller bragged that a rose she was in love with was practically thornless. Who cares? Roses have thorns. Wear gloves!

Ha.

 

Another gorgeous day in a string of them! I do not take them at all for granted. The sunshine is so delicious on a cool October morning, that I park myself by the corner windows, ostensibly for breakfast, but really just to feel the pleasure of every ray of sun that comes through to warm me. It is, hands down, the best set up -- a large southeast set of windows in a Wisconsin home.

 

 

 

 

 

And then come the roses. I plant two today (so eight to go) and I water the entire side bed. The roses are not all looking dry yet, but I have to pace my efforts now. I dont see rain in the forecast and I'm leaving on Sunday, with lots of planting work still before me. I want to make sure I'm not up all night doing the impossible the day before I take off.

 

And then I pick up Snowdrop... 

 

 

 

... and we do the very dull but necessary chore of clearing out her closet. I pull things out, she tell me yay or nay while at the same time studying my computer, having forced me earlier to take the Briggs Meyer (or some version of it) personality test. Turns out she and I have remarkably similar results. You could argue that these tests are pseudoscience, and yet, they do have value, in that they leave you thinking about the way you function in life -- your strengths and weaknesses, your approach to tough situations. So I go along, and we talk about being assertive, introverted, resilient, empathetic.

After, I take her to scouting and I bring Millie home. 

 

Ed comes over for supper tonight and for once I do something other than reheat chili or order out pizza. A veggie frittata and a salad. And a Millie, wondering if there's a treat for her somewhere in the mix.

Yes, I seem to be in a week where I look out at the world in rose colored glasses. Nothing wrong with that! Roses are joyous and sensuous and entirely worth the effort and the roughening up of my hands.

with so much love... 

 

the last one

It's always like that: the last stone you dig out is the biggest and heaviest and most impossible to dislodge. The last bucket of soil and rocks you carry to the vacant lot is the heaviest. And you want the last rose that you plant to be the most beautiful, but that one at least is wishful thinking, because you cannot tell which one will wow you most once the blooms emerge.

Yes, it's another stunning day! Sunshine and pleasantly warmish temperatures. Millie seems happy. 

 

 

 

Breakfast is lovely.

I had decided yesterday that I would let her go to daycare this morning. (She typically does not go on Mondays.) Yes, I could crate her while I work outside, but that's no fun on a beautiful day. She should be running outside with Juno (her Shiba dog bestie from daycare), warming her joints and spiking her serotonin levels in glorious sunshine. 

While she is there, I tend to my garden. 

The thing about roses is that they require steady oversight. Day lilies needed my snipping fingers during July and into August. Roses, on the other hand, need a vigilant eye throughout the growing season. You're checking for pests. And for disease. At this time of the year, black spot is a common fungus and it's unavoidable. If you care about the health of your flowers, you'll pay attention to it and snip off, sweep up,  and throw away all affected leaves. (In doing this, you prick yourself so often that it's not even worth mentioning -- it's a constant.) And of course, you cut off the spent flowers. With day lilies it was a question of aesthetics. With roses it's a matter of encouraging repeat blooms. These are modern roses that sprout blooms throughout the growing season if you take care of them.

So far, I've loved all the work I've had to do in Steffi's Garden. Unlike at the farmette, there isn't a plague of mosquitoes buzzing around me. And right now at least, everything in manageable. And it's not repetitive and mechanical. Snipping hundreds of spent lilies each morning can get... boring. I'm not doing boring work here. Frankly, it sort of feels like spring (my favorite season): rose stems are sprouting new growth, the beds are newly planted. Are we really heading toward winter? It's all turned around in my head! 

My "greenhouse" arrived today. I take a break in gardening to set it up (it's just a growing light really). I'm trying to imagine a bright and flowery winter. We'll see how that goes!

Three of my remaining ten roses also arrived today and I wish I could have put them in, but they came just as I decided Millie had had enough of doggie play. Tomorrow then. Tonight I'll take a look at my rose garden plan one last time to make sure everything is going to be planted in the correct spot. 

[I did a last minute change when I realized that the  rose, which I thought would look nice by the curb, was extra thorny. That's not good! You dont want dogs scratching their noses and kids ripping up their pants while walking by. So Ausmajesty Elizabeth will go to my side rose garden. and Gentle Hermione, with her delicate pink flowers and less thorny stems, will be placed by the curb.]

(the side rose garden, almost fully planted!)

 

There's one more aspect to my garden work here that is truly sweet: people stop by and talk to me. Just today: a solo walker strolling the back alley when I was transplanting this morning ("we have to do something in the back of our house, it feels really nice to pass by here with all these flowers"), a woman walking her dog when I was digging the hole for Gentle Hermione ("what are you planting now?"), another, younger woman who was doing some promo marketing for ATT ("what's in those boxes? Roses? Seriously? Like, real roses, not plastic? How long will they last? You mean they wont die in our cold winters? None of your flowers will die here??")  Making something out of this lot that makes people smile. How deeply satisfying is that!

 with so much love...

 

 

 

another day, another gate

Since when do we have to entertain our dogs?!  In the day, dogs just were dogs. You walked them, fed them, maybe trained them a little, maybe played with them, if you were the playful sort. Most days they chewed on a bone (somehow splintered bones never worried us) or cuddled at your feet, or looked out the window, sensing perhaps that there was a bigger and better world out there.

Nowadays, you give your dog toys, many toys, which become to them like old wallpaper -- mostly ignored, boring because they open no new doors. You give them brain games (that activity lasts all of 10 minutes). You take them to doggie day care and to dog parks. You'd think with all that, boredom would be an unfamiliar concept to them. 

Enter Millie.

 

 

 

I have to say, it's a beautiful day (yet again!) and we should go to the dog park, but after breakfast...

... she seems ready for her nap, so I go out to train, not my pup but roses. 

I have trained many a dog, but I've never trained a rose before. Still, as Ed will tell you, there is nothing in this world that a YouTube video can't teach you, so I equipped myself with as much knowledge as you could take in by staring dumbly at your laptop for thirty minutes. And then I grab a handful of ties and begin my game of cane directing.

There is an art to this, but like any art, first attempts are very lackluster, unless you're a Claude Monet (who incidentally loved roses and called them the most romantic of all flowers). 

I know you're not supposed to cross canes (though it's okay if you really must). I know you have to either tie down or cut off long canes for the winter so that they aren't destroyed (and along with it, your awesome rose bush) by heavy snows (what heavy snows? Haven't seen those for a while...). But aside from that, it's all rather trial and error-ish, YouTube tutorials notwithstanding. 

Done. Next -- some sod removal, and finally, I take Millie out to her yard, where she does her beautiful zoomie runs.

And finally I settle in to do some reading. Millie plays for a few minutes then goes upstairs. I'd closed all the doors to the bedrooms so I feel confident she can do no harm

That confidence is sorely misplaced. In two minutes (I never trust her to go off by herself for more than two minutes, which I will now reduce to one minute), I go up and see that she has destroyed the edging of the carpeting leading to the bathroom -- the one door I hadn't closed (it probably wouldn't have helped anyway). 

I know you're not supposed to scold dogs. I know you redirect and give them a treat, but that just seems so wrong! She got my attention -- I am up there with her. How can I possibly do anything but say in a very loud voice --- Millie that was NOT a good idea! I did not use profanity and I limited my reprimand to a sentence and a half. I did not redirect or give her a treat.

I clean up the shreds of carpet, go downstairs and order another gate, this one for the stairs. No more solo trips up there, little girl. And, too, carpet protectors so that she can not possibly tear out more carpet bits at the entrances to rooms. (Of course, she could still just go after the wntire carpet. Millie loves yarns to pull on, and yes she has a dozen toys with dangling yarns, but those are so yesterday, so boring!)

Ed suggests a walk (it's just so beautiful outside!) so I pluck Millie, put her in the car, pick up Ed and we drive over to the nearby dog park. With these familiar feathered friends along the way...

Great walk. Surely Millie must be tired?

 

 

 

The young family comes over for dinner. With Goose. 

It is unbelievable how hard these two mismatched dogs play!

And I have to say, Millie is the primary instigator.  She is all over Goose, growling her silly little growls , tail wagging furiously as she grabs his ear, his mouth, his leg. Goose indulges her. He could slap her down with one paw with his eyes closed, but he is a dog's dog and loves to play with any lively canine, so we have a terrific evening watching those two try to destroy each other (and the house, but luckily they are more interested in going after each other than, say, the couch or ... the upstairs carpet).

  

 

 

 

 

 

 

The evening is lovely. Kids are after a good week of school and activities and, well, that good weather we're having -- how could you not love a day with sunshine, a cool breeze, with all those scents of autumn in the air?

with so much love... 

 

and there you have it...

Every day, you improve. This week I learned about not trusting potted soil levels on roses. Bury those darn root balls, dont pay attention to how they were shipped. So says Grace Rose Farm. But Heirloom Roses (another place where I tend to shop)? Here's their instruction: place the plant with the crown at or just above soil level. Now, it is true that they do "own root roses," so there's no grafted root ball. Is that why? Grace does sometimes own root, sometimes grafted and they say "bury, no matter what!" Let's look at the nursery that calls itself the luxury rose nursery. Only 2 year David Austin Roses. (I bought one rose there -- I couldn't find "Olivia" anywhere else). Their instruction? Make sure it isn’t any deeper in the ground than it was in the container. 

Holy Hannah, no one agrees!

How can you improve if more information confuses the information you already planted in your brain?

Dont even get me started on fertilizer. Do not fertilize rosesin the fall -- that is a running theme of most rose growers. But go to Heirloom again or My Rose Shop and read their planting instructions, and you'll be told that bone meal should go in with the first handful of soil for root development. 

Of course, I've already told you that the timing of planting is also in dispute. Five weeks before first frost! Until the first frost! Until the first deep freeze! I've heard it all.

I have to say, it feel very strange for me to be planting my garden in the fall. I have never done that in the decades I've been growing things. As I've said many times here, for me, it always ended in August. And new plants? Really only in April and May. And here I am today, searching places for Rozanne Geranium, which looks sooo good at the foot of a rose! 

(case in point -- one already planted here)

So how did this stunningly beautiful day proceed for Millie and me? A lovely morning walk, followed by a lovely breakfast...

(nothing there that you like, Millie!)

 

 

(this rose? from my garden; it's called Sweet Mademoiselle) 

 

 

And while she sleeps, I dig out two more holes and removed about ten acres of sod. Well it seemed like ten acres. Sod removal is hard! But I'm done. Truly, no more holes, no more new roses. I need a grassy patch for Millie's late night bathroom run. And the lamps are positioned exactly right, and besides, I have no more money for this! Even discounted for the season roses strain a retiree's budget!

Millie and I meet up with Ed at Tati's Cafe. She knows the magic words now ("we're going to a coffee shop to see Ed"). She pulls hard when we set out, perhaps not so much for the Ed component (she likes him alright, but is still very intimidated by his size)...

 

 

 

... but for the very delicious treat they give her -- a pup cup with a swirl of whipped cream.

("I wonder if I can have another one...)

 

 

Afterwards, Ed comes over to help me put together a small fence for the porch for Millie. I had a fence, but it was not meant for the great outdoors (I purchased it to hold Sadey back, inside the house) and it rotted. Too, it had a ledge on the bottom and several times I tripped over it. Not recommended for the top of the stairs, where the only way to fall would be to tumble down the concrete steps, to land head first on the concrete sidewalk. So I purchased a plastic thing (much like the fence I had to shield the AC unit), and having read that the assembly requires a drill, I called in Ed for assistance.

It didn't require a drill. I could have easily done it myself, but hey, it was nice to have his company for it. The fence itself is very short -- two feet tall. Anyone other than Millie would be tempted to step over it, but she doesn't like to push things because it's too unpredictable and may result in a loud noise. So I think we're good with the short fence. We will see.

Toward evening, I plant one more rose (the Olivia one). Nine to go, holes all ready for them. With some geranium, nepeta and white lavender arriving in a few weeks to put into just a few spots of the rose garden. In late October. We'll see how that goes. (Have you noticed how often I'm likely to write "we will see" in this whole new planting project? Spring cannot come fast enough, because only then will we really see how it all turned out.  

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go reprimand Millie for tearing up the corner of the bedroom carpeting upstairs. How that girl loves to... tear up carpets. And cushions. And pillows. And stuffies. Millie, you're such an ... adolescent!

with so much love.. 

 

pushing your luck

That's me. If some risk pays off, I go for broke and reach deeper. Sometimes it works, sometimes it does not. But you can't blame me for not trying. Even if I'm straining at the seams to fit it all in. And here's the thing: the older I get, the more determined I am to add the extra challenge. Because if not now, then when?

I remember when I first decided (in May) to redo the strips of land in front of Steffi's House. It seemed like such a big project. And it was, even though at least I had help removing the sod then. I told Ed that eventually I may strip the side yard as well, but I didn't really think I wanted to go ahead with it. I was exhausted just planting the front (and then the fenced area, and then the strips of back yard). I felt certain that I had done enough. A little bit of green grass was, after all, pretty as a border to the flower beds.

Then came the roses. The rest is history.

 

The day is splendid. Really beautiful. Sunshine, gentle warm air. You could not ask for a nicer October day. Right Millie?

 

(morning walk)

 

 

What a difference a bit of sunshine makes.

Brekafast, after Millie had done her chorus, this time focusing on the porch pumpkin as the object of her annoyance/excitement/concern.

And then the pup goes to day care and I go back to Steffi's Yard. To tend to those strips of green grass. With a mower. Uff!!

I move another plant and I see that I can do another hole to make the beds more balanced. So why not two holes... Not today -- I dont have time for that, but tomorrow, I'll be stripping some more sod and digging out two more spaces. Yes, I am pushing the boundaries here, but the weather promises to be so good for the next few days -- I may as well make this whole rose project more perfect. There is, after all, always room for getting closer to perfection. Or is it that I hope that of the 89 roses I will have planted this year, maybe a handful will survive? 

 

I pick up the boys at the bus stop.

And then we all go to get Snowdrop for our Friday Adventure. Not that today's outing has everyone excited. At least two are skeptical. But, the weather is perfect and they are outnumbered: three of us want an outdoor walk. In the Arboretum. 

And the two skeptics are soon bought over. We do a long loop through field and forest.

 

 

Dry lands and wetlands...

And of course there's always a treat at the end of an outing. Today we go to our local ice cream store -- the Chocolate Shoppe.

And then it's the usual Friday rollback: some get dropped off at home. Millie gets picked up.

 

 

The girl gets dropped off at her activity, Millie and I return home.

Dinner? I've stooped this low: reheated slices of left over pizza from ages ago. Well, Millie at least enjoyed a few nibbles of pizza crust. Only afterwards did it strike me to check if a pizza crust is a major hazard for dogs. Answer: yes it is. Apparently (according to AI) this particular pizza crust is brushed with some mix of oils, cheese and garlic powder. Garlic is a huge no no for dogs. It's always when you want to make your dog happy that you cause the most harm! Ah well, I was stingy with the crust. So far, she seems fine.

with so much love... 

 

 

pot throwing, water color painting, origami, tai chi or taekwan-do...

All these hobbies I could have taken up in my retirement would have been amazing and creative and meditative and... so much easier than growing roses! So much easier!

It rained last night. It rained this morning. It rained all day. Many inches of rain, saturating my clay soil in a way that cannot be helpful to all the new roses!

(morning walk: remember yesterday's sunshine?)

 

(so grand to be able to bring color in from the garden...)

 

 

The thing about taking on a new project is that it's new and so you have to learn everything from scratch. I had assumed that my experience with perennials would well equip me to grow roses. I'm learning that it may be helpful in some ways (you understand soils, watering needs, winterizing, oh, a whole bunch of gardening details), but it also makes you overly confident. And I'm learning that this confidence will have you make more mistakes than you would have made, had you been a novice (and had studied texts telling you ahead of time what not to do with roses!). 

Just to give you an example: a cardinal rule in planting potted perennials is to plant them at the soil level of the pot. Sure, you can and should bury tomatoes more deeply. But flowers? Don't smother them and rot them out with excessive dirt. 

Enter the rose. 

I assumed (incorrectly) that if I get a potted rose, this, too should be planted at the soil level of the pot. Only after planting dozens of them, did I think to read up on it. And here's the thing: there isn't a simple answer. Bury the budded (grafted) root ball or else the rose of the root may take over. Dont go too deep on the own-root ones. Root rot will ensue.And ignore the level of the pot -- that's just a temporary fix. And of course throw additional soil and mulch after a deep freeze (but not before), though that, at least, is still ahead of us. So, no simple answer, but certainly very different than a perennial flower planting. I should not have assumed.

Therefore, today, after breakfast...

... and a Millie snuggle...

 

 

And after Millie went to doggie daycare, and I drove to the clinic to get not one, not two, but three seasonal senior vaccinations, I went on to plant just one rose and then to evaluate the level of soil on all the others, adding dirt to plants where I thought the level was too low. With mulch on top, but more will be needed once the freezes start coming.

I did all this in the rain. Because it did rain, all day long.

 

In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop and bring her home. Her home. Where Goose is waiting. To share her potato chips.

No, I do not know why that girl is never cold. I have my fleece on. And long pants. and socks. She does not.

We read, and then we go to Barnes & Noble (she is in need of a certain book, which they do not have, but the outing is fun anyway) and finally we pick up Millie. 

 

 

And it is still raining. And Snowdrop claims she is not cold!

 

At home, Millie tests sitting on my stool while I watch the LIVE rose sales -- a habit now that I have on Thursdays. 

 

 

But despite the sales, the promos, the fantastic introductions of roses not seen elsewhere, I do not buy anything. I'm done. My plant purse has run dry, my space is fully occupied in the way I want it to be and in any case, they wouldn't come in time (before my departure, before the cold weather hits). All the California shoppers are going at it as if it were early spring. Me, I'm waiting for my last eight to arrive (still in the clutches of the UPS people). After that, I'll do some mulching and major garden clean up. Yes, and bulb planting, but I'd rather not think about that. I'm quite ready to put down the shovel. More time with Millie! Or. maybe I'll take up mosaics. My neighbor does them in her basement. She said I should join her. 

Nah... I'll keep at it. So many roses, needing so much of my time and effort.

with so much love... 

 

the final hill

I moaned, good and loud. Over and over again. No one could hear me -- Millie was at doggie daycare, the windows were closed. I could have screamed and no one would have come running.

Some may regard that as a real disadvantage for a senior (I am a senior!). You fall down, can't move and then what? Fine, there is that downside. But sometimes, it just feels so good to moan and groan and not explain yourself to anyone. My own very vocal sighs and exhales came after a four hour planting stint. The rocks were heavy, the soil -- saturated with last night's rains. I thought I had dug out sufficiently large holes, but today they seemed barely big enough to fit a rose. That's not the way to plant roses!

(a wet rose on a wet day)

 

 

All that lifting and twisting and digging and heaving finally got to me. I had put in four roses. I have one more that came yesterday, but I was plum tuckered out. I stepped into a hot shower and I thought -- this is almost as good as a massage! Moans and groans were emitted. It was a heavenly ten minutes.

Unfortunately, life has a way of knocking that calm and serenity right out of your system rapidly enough. Before I could even sit down for my afternoon coffee, I looked out and saw that bags of soil and mulch had been delivered and left outside on the front steps (and not in the back driveway). Once again I had to lift and carry, though I made sure I kept my hands clean -- I had massaged them with blueberry balm which put me one foot in the Finnish forest of this summer's hike. I didn't want to have to wash it off. (The blueberry balm is actually Swedish, but I learned about blueberry potions and lotions from our guide in Finland, though I have to think that the forests of Sweden resemble the forests of Finland.)

 

All this happened after breakfast of course. Millie, who looks sweet as can be after yesterday's bath and grooming session...

 

 

 

.... had no problem being loud as people and dogs and babes passed by the house.

But her vocal noises are such a mark of excitement and exuberance that I really do not mind her very melodic (i.e. high pitched) barks, especially since she is for most of her waking hours a quiet dog. Including during breakfast itself.

(Millie, did you bring your two pup friends to our morning meal? So that I'm having breakfast with three dogs?) 

 

 

In the late afternoon, showered and refreshed, I pick up Millie and spend some time with her at home, but at 6, I put her in her crate (sorry, pup!) because I decided to finally attend the book club meeting that the more active neighborhood women have organized. I read the book, I need to not spend every evening on the couch.

 

(Tempting: to stay home and fill in the rose information into my new Rose Notebook which came today. You see it against the backdrop of roses snipped by me because of the heavy rain that balled just a few of the blooms. The Notebook is large. The little note pad I started with could not fit in a good plan of the rose garden.)

 

 

Six women showed up at the bar that is actually on the premises of the new development. Six very lively and interesting women. I waved off my non-alcoholic status and ordered a small glass of white wine, because that's what you do at book clubs -- you sip white wine. (Unfortunately, the quantity was too low to offer a nice buzz, so it was a waste.) I was the oldest and that was nice too (for me), because most (but not all) of my friends are actually older than me. I like a range!  

The new development (where I live) sees itself as a rather unique place. It is a model of environmental planning and much testing had been done for many years to understand what systems worked best to keep the environmental toxins out of the nearby wetlands. (According to the Department of Natural Resources, we do better in that regard than the farmers who came before us.) Additionally, there appears to be a real drive to create a community of people rather than just a place to park your car and go inside and close your door to others. The Edge, where I lived for five months, also tried to do that. And they succeeded. I thought it was a fantastic apartment complex. And Terra Vessa (the name of this new development)? Honestly, I think they're doing a really good job of it too. I lucked out here. Three months, and I already know and like at least half a dozen people who live within a block or two or three of me.

As for poor Millie -- she is, of course, overjoyed to see me return (after 90 minutes). 

I assure her that the book club meets only once a month. She seemed okay with that.

 

 

 

with so much love...