Now There Are Two

This afternoon I finished knitting the second heel of the Afterthought Socks.  Then I sat very still and slowly, carefully separated the two socks, catching the live stitches on super-thin metal needles.  Once I had them apart I moved the stitches onto the needles I'll knit with but by then my brain was foggy so I'll knit tomorrow.  But look!  Two!  (I feel like I performed successful surgery on conjoined twins.)




On my way back from my walk this morning I harvested the first produce of 2019--three "breakfast" radishes (that's the variety, really), a handful of butter lettuce leaves, and three early onions.  I foresee a salad in my future.






The potatoes are still blooming,








and a small cluster of blueberries is ripening.










The bee balm, spiderwort, and daisies are blooming.  In the fall I plan to dig up all of the perennials in this section of the garden so I can divide the plants that need it, weed out all of the violets, and maybe plant more bee- and butterfly-friendly plants.



This evening LC, OJ, and I inaugurated our new picnic cloth at Pamperin Park.  It was a warm, windless evening but, thankfully, we weren't bugged by skeeters so we could enjoy our hard salami, cheese curds, sugarsnap peas, red grapes, and Wheat Thins in peace.  They have cranberry apple juice to drink, I have water.  Oh, and Dum Dum suckers for dessert.  Our menu doesn't change but that's what they want.  I ask what we should have and they always start with, "salami..." so I guess we're good.  At this end of the week they were both a bit tired and easily upset but everyone's at a low ebb by Friday night so we just took it easy, I let them set the pace, coming back to the picnic for a couple bites and then zooming off to play more.  Meemaw gets to do things like that; parents have to enforce rules and stuff.  I'm glad I'm on this end of that equation.



12 July--Barbara Malcolm, Horizon. 

A few days later, I was on my way to downtown Kingman.  I have always loved driving down country roads in the early morning in winter; the light on the snow all gold and pink, and everything looking newly made.  I was headed to Kingman Hardware to talk to Charlie about spiffing up the plank floor Clara and I found when we took up my living room carpet the night before.  As with most businesses in rural areas, Charlie opens up at seven o’clock to catch the farmers’ trade.  I was glad since that meant I might be able to finish my project in a day.  I parked in one of the angled spaces in front of the store and admired the turn-of-the-century design of the building before going in.

            “You’re up early, Gail,” Charlie boomed as I paused just inside the door, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dim light.

            “I want to get a jump on the day, Charlie, and I need some advice,” I said.

            “What can I get for you?”  Charlie’s voice echoed off the high ceilings and the walls filled with row upon row of wooden drawers filled with nails and screws.

            “Clara and I ripped out the carpet in my living room yesterday and uncovered a beautiful old plank floor.  I’d like to get something to clean it and protect it and I’m hoping you can help me.”

            “Come on over here and let’s see what we can find.”

            I followed Charlie’s shuffling steps to a counter in back covered by years of paint and varnish spills.

            “Let’s see… what kind of wood you got?”

            “I have no idea.  Probably pine, I guess, since it’s a yellowish color.  It’s not dark enough to be oak.”

            “You’re probably right, Gail.  Most of those old houses had pine plank floors.  Are they narrow?  Wide?”

            “They’re a mix of narrow and wide.  I’m sure they are original to the house and it was built in 1827.”

            The bell hung on the door jangled and before Charlie could greet the new arrival a deep male voice spoke from behind me.  “Then they’re definitely pine.  Probably white pine because of the forests around here in those days.”

            Charlie smiled.  “Morning, Abel.  You’re out early, too.  Looking for more tools?”

            “Not today, Charlie,” he said with a laugh.  “You’ve already sold me more tools than my pegboard can hold.  I’m just looking for a box of wood screws to finish fixing that table for Mabel Hastings.”  He turned and smiled at me.  “Good morning, Mrs. Logan.”

            “Good morning, Mr. Baker.”  I didn’t want to give him any encouragement.  “Now, Charlie, about my floor.  What do you suggest I use?  I’m not crazy about using varnish since it takes so long to dry and makes the whole house smell.”

            “Now, when I did my floor,” Abel said, “I used a Spar varnish and put on five coats.  Very durable, Spar varnish is.”

            “That’s very interesting, Mr. Baker,” I said, “but I said I don’t want to use varnish.  I just said it.  Excuse us.”  I didn’t like to be rude but I found him so annoying I couldn’t help myself.  “So, Charlie, what do you think?”

            “Well, Gail, I’m thinking maybe this wax here.  It’s new and good for floors without a finish, which I assume yours is.  And it’s really easy to apply.  See?  You just use this sheepskin pad over a sponge mop.  You got one of those?”

            “Yes, I do.”

            After about fifteen minutes of discussion, I bought the wax and a couple of the sheepskin things that looked like fuzzy shower caps to apply it.  Abel Baker stood by listening and offering random suggestions and even offered to carry my purchases to my car.  I refused.  Some people never take the hint.

My calendar is empty this weekend and I'm glad.  I can finish that pagoda dress, maybe cut out more garments to sew, do the laundry, spend a couple hours writing, and figure out how to mow that strip in back by the patio without hauling the mower through the house.  The heat and humidity that left us alone yesterday is back and by the first of the week "with a vengeance" is supposed to be an appropriate modifier.  Ugh.  I'll be in the basement.
--Barbara