Now You See Them...

 



... now you don't.  Violets had infiltrated the asparagus patch to the point that the asparagus had nearly given up.  Since the weather-guessers are predicting a full day of rain tomorrow I knew that my procrastinating days were over.  So I slathered on SPF 50 sunscreen, put on get-dirty clothes and a headband, and got busy.  I was very glad to have a padded kneeler and sandy soil.  The trowel slid easily into the dirt so I could loosen up clumps of violets and yank them out.  I have a bushel-size plastic garden trug and I filled it five (5!) times in 2 1/2 hours.  Three asparagus plants are fully revealed and now the weeding slows way down because the violets are among the daisies, echinacea, allium, and bee balm.  I'll tackle them next week.







Clearing all those violets out meant there was room to plant the two bee balms and one butterfly bush plants I got at Stein's yesterday (for $1.99 each, what a bargain) on the back edge of that patch.



CG worked fast today, trying to get as much of the wall done as he could because of the rainy forecast.  His partner arrived around 4 o'clock to help cut down the volunteer tree.  Hooray!  He said he still thinks he'll be done by the end of the week.  Fingers crossed.  Then he can repair the lawn which is part of the deal.  Lawn doesn't like skid steer.  Nosireebob.









The honeysuckle, another 1962 import from Dad's parents' farm in Evansville, IN, started blooming.  I haven't seen any hummingbirds since the landscaping started but when there are eggs and babies in the nest the hummingbirds don't come to the feeder much anyway.  I have high hopes that the honeysuckle flowers will entice them back.





I bought myself a Father's Day gift.  No, I'm not anybody's father but Amazon sent an email the other day with unbeatable prices on some of their electronic goodies so I got myself an Echo Dot.  It came today and I got it set up with only a few stumbles.  I'm planning to get back into the habit of listening to music instead of always watching TV.  Part of me feels like I've invited a spy into the house but most of me is looking forward to commanding music to appear at my whim.

The memorial at the Botanical Garden this evening was nice but they couldn't do the dove release part because of the impending storms.  Seems if the doves can't find North, they can't find their way home, and an electrical storm interferes with that.  Sorry they couldn't release the doves but it's a cool thing to know.

I added a few rounds onto the Happy Sad Mouse tonight.  It's easy to keep knitting because it's so much fun to see what new color is coming next.  I need about another inch of even knitting for the body before it's time to sew up the bottom hole, stuff what is knitted, and then knit the decreases for the top, stuffing as I go.  Then all I have to do is pick up stitches for the feet, arms, and ears, then embroider on the faces, and we have mouse!  Or maybe it should be mouses?




11 June--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

            We crossed the parking lot and joined the crush of people hoping to be the first to grab the best bargains.  We paid our three-dollar admission, synchronized our watches, and agreed to meet in the food area at twelve-thirty.  Once inside, Clara moved to the first booth while I started at the last so we could cover more booths faster.  With any luck, we’d be able to find most of what we needed in the morning and spend a more relaxed afternoon browsing together.

            At exactly twelve-thirty, I left the sales area and made my way to the food booths.  We met, laid claim to a pair of chairs, and bought lunch.  Over bowls of homemade soup and ham sandwiches we filled each other in on our finds of the morning.

            Clara had been moderately successful filling her list.  I had a few things from Clara’s list too, but hadn’t found as many picture frames in my price range as I’d hoped.  “I like to watch the program, but I’m sure unhappy that Antiques Roadshow is such a success,” I told Clara.  “Most of the vendors today seem to think that every piece of junk they’re offering is a priceless antique.”

            “I think you’re right,” she said.  “I had people arguing with me over the price of things that were so damaged I couldn’t imagine someone buying them, even from the Goodwill.  Were all the frames on your end as overpriced as the ones I found?”

            “Terribly.  A few of them looked like they’d fall into splinters if you touched them, and they were marked anywhere from twenty-five to fifty dollars.  I figure it’s just greed, pure and simple.”

            Clara nodded.  “I know what you mean.  Most of the people I tried to dicker with had huge chips on their shoulders.  They were offended when I offered less than their inflated prices.”

            “Did you find any dishes?”

            “I did.  I had them put aside in the booth where I bought them.  I’ll pick them up on our way out.  I think they’re god-awful, but Kayla will like them.  They’re from the ‘60s and they were cheap.  I figure they’re too new to be antique and too ugly to be nostalgia.”

            I burst out laughing as I dug around in the bags at my feet.  “I found some nice kitchen towels for you, and some canisters, and, oh, this is the best, I found six tumblers and six juice glasses that match the canisters.  I hope they go with the dishes you found.  I thought they were too much of a bargain to pass up; they were only three bucks.”  I held up a green glass with light blue flowers painted on it for Clara to see.

            “Oh my gosh,” said Clara, “the dishes I bought match them perfectly.  It’s a sign.  We were supposed to be here today.”

            “A sign?  What is it with you and signs?  All these years you’ve talked about things being ‘a sign’ but you never explained what you meant.”

            Clara looked embarrassed.  “I’ve always believed in signs.  Portents, that’s what Gram called them.  She’d study the sky or the leaves in the wind or the way dogs howled in the fall.  She counted the chirps of the crickets in the summer to see if a storm was on the way.  I thought she was magic or, if I was mad at her, a witch.  I overheard her telling Esther Knowling once when I was about nine, that she could witch water.  It scared me so that for a month afterward I only drank milk or bottled soda.  And I kept a real close eye on Gram whenever she drew a glass of water from the tap.  I never saw her do anything to the water and she never seemed to chant an incantation over it, but I took no chances.”

            “Clara!  That was almost fifty years ago.  Do you really believe that?”

            “Yes, I believe it.  One day Lester Martin came over from his place complaining to Dad that his well had run dry.  Gram offered to go over to help and I tagged along to see what was going on.  When we got there, Gram cut a pair of willow twigs and bound them together at one end with strips of bark.  She held the other ends open in a ‘V’ and walked up and down Lester’s pasture like she was mowing it.  I couldn’t figure out what she was doing, but Lester was watching her like he was praying for a miracle.  Well, after a good, long time the point of those twigs dipped toward the ground.  ‘Here,’ said Gram, ‘you need to dig here.’  Lester dug, and within a hundred feet, he had a new well with endless, fresh, sweet water.  That made me a believer, I’ll tell you.”

            I sat and looked at my best friend.  “I’ve heard of water witches but I never met anyone who knew one or was related to one.  That seems so old-timey, but it’s pretty cool.”

            “Yeah, it was pretty cool.  I always thought I’d inherited a bit of Gram’s gift; you know how good I am at finding lost keys and such.  But, now don’t laugh at this, lately I think I can feel water in the ground too.”

            I was stunned.  “What do you mean, you can feel water in the ground?  What does it feel like?”

            She scrubbed her face with her hand.  “I wish I’d never mentioned this.  You’re looking at me like I’ve sprouted another head.”

            “I don’t mean to, Clara, I’m really fascinated.  Come on, tell me what it feels like.  I can’t believe I never asked you about this before.”

            She looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping.  “Okay.  Well, when I walk over to your place across where it gets so muddy in the spring or when I’m walking past the old well down by the barn, I feel a kind of cold flowing over my skin.  Sometimes, when it’s near the full moon or I’m on my cycle, the feeling is so strong it makes my fingers get that prickly feeling you get after they’ve gone numb.”  She leaned her head in her hands.  “I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud.”

            “Why?  I think it’s the coolest thing I’ve heard in years.  My friend, Clara, the water witch.”  I smiled when I said it, but I could see how embarrassed she was and decided to let the subject drop.  “Are you ready to walk around some more?” I said, reaching down to gather up my bags.  “I saw some really pretty linens in one booth that might be good for Faith’s new apartment.  They’re fairly pricey so I didn’t want to buy them without you seeing them.”  I could see how relieved she was to get back to shopping.

            “Yep, I’m ready.  All the linens I saw were too stained.  Show me what you found.”

            We spent the rest of the afternoon together looking at the huge variety of things for sale, trying to get the sellers to lower their prices, and dreaming of owning the antique jewelry.  Neither of us wore much jewelry, and never anything so fancy, but we both loved looking at it and trying it on.

            On the drive home, we discussed our purchases and the difficulty we had finding bargains that year.  We decided to start checking the paper for rummage and estate sales.  Maybe there we’d have better luck finding what we wanted for better prices.

I'm sorry that the piece of Horizon is so long but I couldn't find a logical place to break it into two parts.  Maybe the weather-guessers will be wrong and CG can come and build more wall tomorrow.  The neighbors' maple tree let loose with a bajillion helicopters the last couple days.  Everything in the backyard is covered with them and the chipmunks are eating them like crazy.  I've got to pick them out of the bales so I don't have a crop of maple trees.
--Barbara