Not The Day I Expected...

I was looking forward to having lunch with my first writing friend, CDA, who would swing through town with one of her teacher friends on their way from one friend's house in the UP to The Clearing for a week's writing workshop.  She called when they left this morning to say that they'd be here in a couple hours.  Then she called again to say that her GPS had led them astray so they'd be about an hour late.  Oh well.  Not too long afterward she called to say that someone had turned left in front of her car in Crivitz, a town about an hour north, and she'd hit them.  No one was hurt but her car wasn't driveable.  Since she lives in Naperville, IL (which is a few hours south of here meaning that it would take her husband forever to go get them) I volunteered to drive up to pick them up and take them and their luggage up to The Clearing.  So I drove an hour northwest, spent a good hour there helping get the insurance claim started, drove back to Green Bay, and then two hours up the Door peninsula.  They insisted on buying me supper, then I delivered them to The Clearing, and drove home. I left at 1 o'clock and got home just before 9 o'clock.  Not the way I expected to spend my Saturday but it got sunny about ten miles north of Green Bay so it was a pleasant drive with good company on half of it.




While waiting to hear from CDA I knitted the Happy Sad Mouse noses and got one attached.  I sewed the second one on when I got home.  I'll do the eyes and mouths later.  I think I dug out the wrong yarn for them but I know that what I need is somewhere downstairs.





CG and his partner D were here this morning working to get the wall finished and start cleaning up.  They levered out the bad timbers, CG weeded the top of the old wall and they shoveled the last of the gravel off the street.  The skid steer's still here but hopefully it'll dry off enough so that they can bring in ground to fix the ruts, regrade the slope, and then reseed.

Lots of things are growing despite the pitiful weather.  (Did I tell you that it was so cold in here yesterday that I turned the furnace back on?  Yeah, I think I did.)  Anyway all three of the potatoes have sprouted and the onions too.  There are a couple shallots growing but no sign of the garlic yet.  I looked up what to expect if you plant garlic in the spring instead of the fall and the site said that the bulbs won't be big and have lots of cloves but you can eat them.  Some of the onion sets that I shoved into the side of the east-facing bale have started sprouting too.  Guess I'll have a garden this year after all.  Despite the pitiful weather.

15 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

Saturday morning, I showed them all the changes I’d been making in the flowerbeds.  Aaron is as enthusiastic a gardener as I am and leaped at the chance to help with the transformation.  We all piled into my car and drove to the garden center.  David was fascinated with the garden ornaments, so he and Sara looked at them while Aaron and I pawed through the remaining perennials on closeout.

Aaron said, “Mom, there’s an old guy following us around.”

I didn’t need to turn to see who he meant.  “That’s Abel Baker.  He writes the gardening column in the Kingman Times.  A couple weeks ago, I made the mistake of asking his opinion about what I should plant and he did his darnedest to take over.  He even gave me a list of bulbs.  He’s an opinionated jerk.  Ignore him.”

“Okay.”

But when we went to pay for our purchases, Abel stepped behind the counter and told the cashier she could take a break.  I glared at him.

“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Logan.”

“Mr. Baker.”

“How’s that garden revamp coming?”

“Fine.”

“I see you’ve got some help this weekend.”

I didn’t answer and Aaron felt compelled to fill the silence.  “Hi, Mr. Baker.  I’m Gail’s son, Aaron.  We’re visiting Mom for the weekend.”

“Must be nice for you when your family comes to visit, Mrs. Logan.  Marcella and I never had kids.  You’re lucky to have such a fine son.  That’ll be $17.83.”

I extended a twenty-dollar bill and said, “Yes, it is nice to have them stay.  I’m sorry you and your wife never had children.”

“That’s eighteen, nineteen, and twenty,” Abel Baker counted the change back to me.  “Of course, Marcella’s been gone quite a few years now.  Kids would have been nice, but Marcella didn’t really want any.  Now I think that having had children would give me someone to pass on my horticultural experience to, like you’re doing with your son here.”

I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.  Aaron trailed behind carrying the flat of plants.  “Mom, how come you were rude to Mr. Baker?  He seemed nice, and eager to help you fix up your garden.”

“Aaron, I don’t need some dried-up old widower sticking his nose into my garden.  Anyway, I told you Mr. Abel Baker is a jerk.”

For the rest of the day Aaron helped me get the old house ready for winter.  We took down screens and put up storm windows, the whole family raked, with David making forts in the leaves--generally making more work for the adults.

I was in the kitchen getting Aaron’s favorite beef stew ready for supper when the screen door slammed.  David rushed over holding out a bouquet, face flushed with excitement.

“Look what I picked for you, Grandma.”

“Oh, David, they’re beautiful.  And you remembered to pick the stems long.”

“Mama helped me this time.”

“Let’s find a vase for them.  Bring them out here to the potting bench.  I think I have the perfect thing to put them in.”  We went out onto the back porch to search through an old dresser I had turned into a place to store all my gardening tools.  I pulled out a dark green pottery vase with geese painted on the side and held it out for David’s approval.

“It’s just right, Grandma.  I saw some geese flying south when we were raking.  I like the way they honk when they fly.”

“Me, too.  I think they sound like winter on the way.”  We took the flowers, trimmed the stems, and arranged them in the vase.  “There, these will look just perfect on the table.  Can you carry them in without spilling?”

David gave me a look.  “Grandma, I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Sorry.”  I was careful not to let him see me smile.

Tomorrow morning Lala is coming to visit for a sleepover.  We'd hoped to do something outside but it's supposed to be chilly and maybe rainy.  Ugh.  So I think I'll dig out some drawing stuff and we can play with markers, pens, and paper.  Or we can just sit around and complain.  That'd be fun too.
--Barbara