At the end of the day I still will have 85 more bulbs to plant. Some leftover daffodils, but mostly tulips, which I regret because tulip blooms are nice but the decomposing plant afterwards is a mess and if you want a repeat bloom (I at least had the smarts to get repeat bloomers), you have to leave it alone until it looks totally dead. None of bulb planting is enjoyable, but, I am making progress, I planted today's batch with Millie looking on, so at least I had company. But you'd think the last thing I would want to think about would be the acquisition of more bulbs, and yet, this is what I did today: I looked through all the amaryllis bulbs out there and decided on the three (just three!) that would be my companions indoors this winter. I dont much care for the leaves that you have after the flower is long gone for the year, but I'll worry about that in spring. If they get too unruly, I'll give up on a rebloom and compost them.
So, is the day all about bulbs? Well not really, but content wise -- they're a substantial chunk of it. The rest of my time is spent on the lovely rituals that Millie and I have developed on days that we have together, at Steffi's House.
Breakfast, of course. At sunrise.
With Millie.
Then she plays in her yard and I plant 18 bulbs (just outside the fenced area; no way am I going to put anything that's toxic anywhere near her free space).
At lunch time I call Ed and ask if he'd like to meet up with us at Tati's. He does. I brush Millie thoroughly before our outing. She looks so fine! Maybe a hat for her cafe moment? Pup cup time!
We are a handsome trio!
Well, Millie is the show stopper. People actually ask to take pictures of her. She just smiles.
Ed and I discuss his upcoming sailing trip. The pros and cons of it. He'll likely go and I'll switch to taking care of the farmhouse and animals for a while. The captain of this particular sail (on the Atlantic again) is a former Navy guy and a submarine commander so I have few worries that they wont be able to manage, even in big storms.
In the afternoon, I zoom while Millie naps.
And then we have visitors! A neighbor stops by with her dog (who is perhaps the only dog around here who has shown interest in my wonderful pup). While the dogs have a fine romp around the house, the neighbor asks me if I would join their newly formed Mahjong group. She asks this on a night that I already neglected to go to the neighborhood book club meeting, which only goes to show how difficult it is for me to leave the house in the evening. Oh, but it would be during the day -- she says. I hesitate. Winter is long. But Mahjong? Isn't that a game for old retired ladies? I suppose I should face up to my own demographic!
I tell her that once a week is too much for me. She persists. Could I join them once a month? Even my protest that I have never played Mhjong, don't know how to play Mahjong, am not much of a game person -- none of this puts her off. If I could learn, you can learn -- were her parting words. Perhaps. AI tells me it takes about an hour to figure out the rules. But it takes 1-2 months to be decently good at it and that's not if you play only once a month. And the problem is -- I hate being bad at something! Why don't I play chess with my grandson? Because I am not good at it. Why don't I play tennis with Ed? Same! Still, someone appears to have the stuff needed for the game and I know I should make an effort to extend my reach beyond just my garden. I offer a "maybe," but as she leaves, I return to studying rose websites and read the latest comments of rosarians in various rose groups.
And I wonder -- why am I not shy about growing roses? Surely three months ago, even two months ago, I was not good at it, and yet... I suppose the answer is that I did not now how much I did not know. I assumed incorrectly that my gardening experiences would translate into good rose growing. (They do and they don't.) And I assumed incorrectly that my dog ownerships of the past would prepare me for working with big rescue dogs. And I assumed when I joined the employ of a restaurant as a line cook (at L'Etoile) that my knowledge of food prep at home would be enough for me to fit into a fast paced world of high end restaurant cooking. It helps to sometimes not know how bad or simply inexperienced you are at something. You plunge and eventually you surface and realize that you can swim across a lake and make your way to shore. With Mahjong, I have no illusions. I am a complete neophyte. Aren't I too old to learn new tricks?
A quiet evening. Perfect for the quiet mood I am in almost every night of my life now.
with so much love...
