Lunch al Fresco

That means it was just barely warm enough for me to eat on the patio. The sun was great but there was a cool breeze that drove me into the house as soon as I was finished eating.  This morning the landscaper knocked on the patio door because he was here to check the paint marking where the buried lines are.  He's going to call Diggers' Hotline tomorrow for an emergency visit to get more precise info.  He's also coming in the morning with his long tape measure because I found the plat map with the lot measurements and easements, etc. so we'll find out of the wall's on my property or not.  Wouldn't that be a kick if it wasn't?  I'm sure it's mine because the builder would have had to dig into the slope to build the house.

This Downy Woodpecker came for a suet snack while I was eating but the most irritating visitor was this chipmunk that repeatedly climbed the crook to gobble up seeds from the platform feeder or nab a peanut from the wreath.  Ooh, it was so persistent and kind of defiant.  Damned rodent.




I wandered next door to talk to my neighbor and encountered this frog (or maybe toad, how do you tell?) on my way home.  I can't tell you the last time I saw a frog around here.  It was a nice size and pretty unbothered by us peering at it.







Look how pretty the pink violas are (they're extra-pink because the patio umbrella is red)





and the lilies of the valley are blooming.  I picked some for the table; they smell amazing.


 




I took one of the car seats out of my back seat and installed a booster seat because LC has finally hit 40 lbs.  She'll be so glad to be out of that car seat and riding like a big kid.  She had a "shadow day" at her new school this week and loved it.  I can't wait to hear tales of her days in kindergarten.



I had this giant plate of spicy chicken curry for supper.  It was one of my investment cooking recipes; I'll definitely make it again.






After supper I crawled around on the floor tracing out the Dress no. 3 pattern that I got some red and white striped fabric to make it with last week, then I cut out the striped tablecloth and the Asian print I unearthed from the basement stash bins into 2 Dress no. 1s which is the jumper dress that I've worn almost exclusively the last couple years.  It's so comfortable and I feel like I look nice in them.  I have a "style"!  I'm not stylish but I think I'm distinctive.



2 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 
        I spent the next week loving and hating painting.  I used lots of paper practicing the techniques June had shown us.  I also worked on not strangling my brush, if only to stave off arthritis.  On Friday Clara stopped by to deliver some lotion I had ordered from her Avon lady daughter-in-law.  I had my practice paintings, as June called them, spread all over the bed in the back bedroom.

     “Wow, you’re really serious about this painting stuff,” said Clara.

     “Frustrated is more like it.  See this?  And this?”  I picked up sheet after sheet.  “Garbage.  All garbage.”  I dropped the offending papers.

     “Hey, you’ve only been at this for a few days.  Even that Leonard daVinci guy must have had to start somewhere.  Give yourself a chance to learn, for crying out loud.”

     “It’s Leo-nard-oh.”

     “Yeah, I know.  Leonardo, Leonard, whatever, I was just trying to make you laugh.  You’ve gotten so serious over all this.”

     She picked up a little painting of a bunch of colored blotches with green streaks below them covered with what might have been a lavender ribbon, or a lavender snake.  It was hard to tell.  “This really looks good.  It’s a bouquet, right?  I like it; it’s kind of, uh, impressionistic.  The ribbon matches my bathroom.  Can I have it?”

     I snatched the painting out of her hands.  “You don’t want that.  It’s no good.  Give me a few weeks then I’ll paint one like it for you, only better.  I promise.”

     “If you say so, but remember I like this one if you’re ever in the mood to give me a present,” Clara said, tapping the painting.

     I stood looking at the little painting in my hands.  After a moment I glanced up and said, “Is Hank working late tonight?”

     “Yep, till nine.  Why?”

     “Painting is making me crazy.  You want to have a glass of wine with me and watch the sunset?”

     “Don’t mind if I do,” said Clara, looking relieved when I put the little painting down and changed the subject.

      We spent an hour on the porch admiring the sunset and talking about our kids and grandkids.  But I was so frustrated by what I saw as my lack of painting success, my sunset glass of wine turned into two.  And on the slat below the stripe for September 14 I lettered, “Painting sucks!”  Clara got a big laugh out of that.

I had every intention of going to the Y this morning but then the landscaper stopped and I ended up rearranging the hose over the bales because I think maybe the romaine was being overwatered, then I made a seed bed and planted the carrots and radishes.  I also planted some basil seeds in the empty spots where the plants were.  I can't believe that something is eating my herbs.  That's never happened before.  Arrgh.
--Barbara