Not Knee-High

 We didn't plant corn but we have corn planted courtesy of the neighborhood squirrels.  It's nowhere near knee-high but then it isn't enough to pollinate itself or bear fruit, uh, ears so that's okay.  There's a lot more of it that crops up in the lawn but it gets mowed down quickly, or not so quickly in the case of our renter.

Ya know, I'd like a renter that takes care of 1508 like it deserves.  I know that renters aren't owners but don't people have any self-respect?  I get embarrassed when I'm too busy and the lawn gets long or when I need a guide dog to get through the house.  Everyone in the neighborhood's real good about keeping their yards nice and neat, we mow before the grass sets seed, we rake up autumn leaves before the snow flies and before the leaf picker uppers have made their last pass, and we keep our driveways as snow-free as we can.  It's not hard work, it just takes some attention.  Why is this so hard?

Ahem, sorry for the rant but I was next door changing out the exterior doorknobs and the place is a shambles, plus she's buying a house so it needs to be presentable so I can find another renter and soon.  I tell you if it was up to me a For Sale sign would be in the front yard in a heartbeat.  I'm tired of landlady-ing, snow shoveling, and lawn mowing, but mostly landlady-ing.


When I went out to fill the feeders and take some pictures I startled a teenaged bunny.  It's so cute--and so scared.  But look, a lot of the lilies are blooming.  Lipstick lilies surrounded by milkweed, which is also blooming.  Day lilies by the air conditioner.  Asiatic lilies on the retaining wall.  One lonely stargazer lily in the front.  In the perennial garden the spiderwort and shrub roses are going gangbusters.  I love this time of the year when things are growing and blooming all over.


July 4--Portugal, Joao Vieira da Silva, Mandolin.  Nan liked to watch Uncle Theo's fingers blur on the strings of the old mandolin.  The music started slowly but then the notes came faster and faster until his fingers were a pink-brown smear.  The lights glinted off the mother-of-pearl inlays around the sound hole and the tortoiseshell pick guard made red sparks shine.  When Grandpa, Papa, and the uncles got together the music would soar as the drink levels in their glasses got lower.  By midnight all of the other kids and most of the women would be asleep but she'd still be tucked in a corner while the men played and sang.

Now it's time for me to make coleslaw.  I got sparklers at the store, tee-hee.  I can't wait until dark.  Happy 4th of July! 
--Barbara