Friday, May 13, 2016
The Pleasure of Rain
We've had nothing but rain, rain, rain, with intermittent breaks of sunshine. I scooted out between storms to do some planting. I have to say we have the nicest neighbors. William is all about bartering for goods and services and, lucky for me, he is a landscape designer. So, for example, they feed our dog- I bake them goodies, I feed their cat- they give us produce, they mow our field- I give them homemade canned relish and Steve helps with some mechanical/electrical stuff. This time, we fed their farm stock and William gave us a whole bunch of leftover plants from his nursery. It's a bonanza! He gave us six boxwoods, seven salvias, three astilbes, one blue indigo, three catmints, and three gardenias. A few of them need a little TLC in the form of some fertilizer, but they are otherwise healthy. He assures me he couldn't use them and that I saved them from certain death. For me, this is an incredible amount of money we saved on landscaping. Alog gardening lines, I also had fun potting some annuals. The gardens are settling in with all this rain to be lush and beautiful.
Finally, I've worked all week at finishing our master bedroom suite. It feels like the project that will never end. The baseboard trim is finally all painted and we are ready to move back into our bedroom. We ran into a little snag in the master bath. It also needed a renovation, but we were going to put it off as a separate project. I thought I could just paint the vanity that got banged up from my mom's walker and it would be fine. Well, I failed to properly prep the vanity and it wouldn't take the new paint. Ugh! I am so ready to be done with all of it. So, we're going to bite the bullet and redo the bathroom now.
It's been hard for me to work in the master bedroom suite. I'm sure it's the source of my melancholy this week. My mom's dresser still sits in the closet back there until we can move it upstairs. The dresser smells like my mom. I hid her pocketbook in one of the drawers. For some reason, this pocketbook breaks my heart. I cannot bear to open it. I know her glasses are in it, her kleenex, her mints, and her wallet. How can a mere object be the source of so much pain? I thought if I kept going into the room each day, little by little I would get comfortable being in there, but it's much harder than I expected. A lifetime of love and pain and suffering have been funneled into this specific spot on my earth. I'm sure it's partly due to the level of care I was providing to her in those last eight months, but I had no idea the loss of a mother, given my age and her age, would bring the tears and broken heart of a child. Some things never change and the love of mother and child are ageless and eternal. How odd it seems to be both happy and content, yet deeply grieving.
Posted by Leonora