Mockingbird Hill Cottage

Mockingbird Hill Cottage

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A Lemon? Make Lemonade

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I’m home. I’m tired. I really liked that hotel bed – ours, as you know, needs to be replaced. It took me way too long to get to sleep last night and I have a lot to do today. One word: mowing. By the way, my husband changed the spark plug on the mower and, ta da, it works! I ran out of gas late yesterday afternoon and Don was at work. So this morning, I will be off to our local gas station. Since it is supposed to rain for most of the week ahead, I have to get all the mowing done today.

Don did mow, I don’t want you to think he didn’t. But he didn’t mow the back forty. That’s what I have to tackle today. I have all sorts of garden photos for you, but for today I thought I would concentrate on an unexpected benefit from the loss of the willow.

The clematis that is planted in front of the house has started blooming profusely. It’s been in this plot, between the boxwoods, for at least 6 years. Last year, I got one bloom. This year? Well, the evidence is right before your eyes. Clearly, it wasn’t getting enough sun. The willow was blocking the light.

Though I still miss my weeping willow terribly – I can’t even look at photos of the house where I can see it – this little miracle is of the ‘if you get lemons, make lemonade’ variety.

I have to prune the boxwoods a bit. I already started that yesterday. But this splash of, what would you call it? – magenta? – is a delightful surprise.

Have a lovely Sunday.

Three is Not a Crowd

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Have I ever showed you this? If I have, forgive me. This plaster garden ornament was something I got at an auction a few years back. It’s a wee bit cutesy for me, but I loved the pale colors. It wasn’t until I got it home (and it weighs a ton) that I realized that between the boy and girl there was a little dog, clearly trying to get in on the embrace.

I felt a shiver go down my spine. The good kind.

Short story: Don and I met on July 4, 1994. Four years later, on July 4, 1998, we were at home in the afternoon. We lived in a Craftsman home in San Diego and there was a big archway between the living room and dining room. Our dog, Winston, (oh, how I miss him) was outside. As we both stood in the archway, Don started talking to me. As he got down on one knee, I slowly realized he was proposing to me. Of course, I said yes and as we both embraced, Winston came running in from outside and jumped up on us to join in on the hug. I don’t know how he knew, but he knew. We’ve always loved that story. When I realized that the little dog on the ornament was pulling a Winston, I knew it was meant to be.

I miss you, sweet Winston. You are always in my heart.

Last night’s preview went well. 7 more to go before opening night. This particular production has been, shall we say, challenging. More I cannot say. It’s already very,very good and will grow during this next week.

Happy Friday.

Communing with the Ground

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New schedule = late hours = sleeping later than normal. Which is why this post will be up later than usual. My fuzzy brain hasn’t had enough coffee yet. This will be a quick one, as I still have to write up notes for the actors from last night’s run-through.

Filed under the heading, “Things I haven’t be able to see at my house in 4 years,”

would be this bush in our front yard. Several years ago, I did some research and found out its name. I forgot it. It has delicate white blooms every spring. Aren’t they lovely?

And on the other side of the yard, I discovered these:

I suppose they would be classified as weeds, but I ask you, would you cut down these sweet yellow blossoms? (Josje tells me they are Buttercups. Ah!) I couldn’t. So I made the decision not to mow that part of the yard. It ended up being a non-decision, since I can’t get the mower to start, but still…

Here’s a close-up of the sweet yellow flower:

By the way, when I was taking these photos, Don (having just got up) looked out the window and saw me sprawled on the ground on the far side of the yard. He said he couldn’t imagine what the heck I was doing. Communing with the ground?

Doesn’t he realize the lengths to which we will go to get a good shot?

This was rather like the situation I wrote about in this post. You might get a kick out of it.

Have a good Thursday.

Lambs Like to Party

Lambs Like to Party

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