Wednesday, May 29, 2024

A Little Flower Binge at Home Depot


 I'm not sure I've mentioned it here, but heaven knows I've chatted about it everywhere else. Six weeks ago I did a little slip and fall going out to dinner with friends. Four folks got me up off the pavement and I went on inside Applebees to enjoy my burger. Food first, always. They provided ice in a rubber glove  which a friend duck taped to my slowly swelling knee. He retrieved a roll from his car. Why do all men seem to have duck tape for emergencies? My late husband carried it with him in his brief case all those years ago.

An appointment with the orthopedic doctor confirmed I'm good, but fractured my knee cap. So that's the back story to my shopping spree, small as it was, yesterday at Home Depot right after I left physical therapy. I wanted to plant a few roses and my go to lavender ( a must have always, lavender and rosemary) in the empty pots on my patio. 

At best, before my fall, I rarely went into my yard except to water. Not as good walking as I like, on a cane most days heading out, I didn't want to fall in my yard. You know, on soft grass. Instead I did the hard pavement thing at dinner. My handyman, an old friend for years, had cleaned out the pots of all the dead debris from the previous year shortly after the Applebees incident, and I kept looking at the soil just begging for new life to be planted. 

A quick run through the garden center at Home Depot, holding on to my cart for support, I found my treasures. The rose bush spoke to me, as real as if the petals could turn into words. There were so many beauties, but this sweet one with its small multi-colored blooms said, "Me, me, me!" A breeze gently moved the leaves as though the bush was becokening to me. I lifted it up and put it down.  My attention diverted by a sweet smell.

A lush pink rose (and I have no clue as to roses names, but it was an old rose not a knock-out rose, see I know a little) with a delightful fragrance and huge thorns made me think of arbors and all those photos on Instagram. It was too heavy to lift, and dear friends, that is how I make most of my decisions these days. Can I lift it by myself? No to the pink rose and back to the darling multi-colored peach one. I placed it in my buggy with relief I could handle it. I think I heard it sigh, but that might have been my own heavy breathing at the strenuous shopping activity.

At home in my carport, I pulled my five flowering pots from the back of my van and placed them on the back steps leading into my kitchen. My yard is fenced and gates locked (for my five Chihuahuas' protection. I am also neurotic someone might open a gate and they would run) so I have to bring the plants through the kitchen and den and out the French doors to my little patio. That is today's mission. I was too tired yesterday to take the plants any further than the back steps. I took a nap with the pups and my favorite word tomorrow crossed my mind. Fingers crossed I can plant these without incident later this afternoon. But then again, my lawn man is due this week, perhaps he'll help. 

I'm writing this post this morning because it's easier than working in my garden. Procrastination, another of my great skills. I hate that I have trouble moving around to take care of my plants. Watering is a chore some days. Or maybe I've becom lazy and just let Mother Nature do her thing. She takes better care of my garden than I do.

A charming rose that has the courage to come back each year despite my neglect (It was here when I bought my house in 2020) is in the picture below taken a few days ago.  In my younger days I had my own glorious garden that I diligently maintained. At my age, with my achy joints and now knee on the mend, I'm so much slower. But that doesn't stop me from dreaming of a beautiful garden spot. I am so lucky the previous owners took such care here, planting gardenias, hydrangeas, roses, and many native plants that flourish despite me.

That pink beauty at Home Depot has stayed on my mind overnight. Perhaps one more trip back to buy it. We'll see.




Monday, May 27, 2024

I'm Not Messy, I'm Creative


View of my desk.

Laptop under paintings. 


 I have a big pink mug that assures me I'm creative and not messy. And earlier today I found this quote that may relate to my state of mind. "Messy people are not necessarily sloppy. They just have more ideas than they have places to put them." - Anonymous

Too many ideas clutter my head that range from painting, writing, and collecting things that fill most space in my house. One is never enough. In fact, saying that brings back a funny memory after I became a widow. I disliked my doctor more than I can say. I always left feeling crazy and fat. In those early days as a widow I threw myself into everything. (And I've written about it in two memoirs). Six dogs, three shops spaces in that small area in Old Town, and collecting more cupboards and farm tables than rooms to hold them. So I rented several storage spaces. My doctor suggested I talk to a therapist. Nodding like a puppy I said 'okay' and got a referral. She sent me to a social worker she knew who worked with the prision system. I spent the hour telling him home much I disliked her and not to look for me to come back for another session.

Then I said maybe I had a multiple disorder needing multiples of everything. "Lucky for my husband I only needed one husband. He was 6' 7"." I chuckled at my humor.

"Well, he was so tall, perhaps he seemed like more than just one." 

And I had to pay for this advice.

Sixteen years later, I still think in multiples. A former antique dealer, I can't pass up a treasure. Loving dogs, I have five. My art is stacking all around my desk here in the den.  And I've got several books working away in my mind. I clear table tops and within a week there are piles of treasures stacking up again. 

Creative minds are rarely tidy. I read that today online. I'd like to think I'm creative and not just living in chaos.  Artist, Writer, Collector, Dog Hoarder. That's me. I see beauty in my house when I look around. Canvases piled up, notes tucked hither and yon, dogs sprawled out on the sofa, and little vignettes of small treasures tucked in cupboards when I finally pull it all together. 

I think about downsizing, getting rid of my artistic clutter, and wonder what it would be like to have a normal home with everything in place. Then I laugh. Within 48 hours I'd start fillling my space with things to inspire me, and well, there would be less space for my inspiration to grow.

That's not happening. I am not messy. I am creative. I think I'll focus on that thought for now.

 

 

 



 

Monday, May 6, 2024

Note To Self


 Saw this on Facebook this morning and it was exactly what I needed to read today. I'm always wondering if I'm doing enough, for others, and for myself.  I have what I call a quiet little life. My house, my dogs, my friends, my love of antiques. I am a people person who is becoming more introverted, some by choice, some by circumstance. At 75 heading close to 76 I find I like doing nothing except sitting with my dogs.  I don't even turn on the TV or music. I sit in silence as dusk rolls in, looking out my French doors to the garden (sadly neglected) and watch as my solar lights blink on my fence, happy and content, until I realize I'm home alone every night. Tomorrow, I tell myself, I'll do more tomorrow. And I usually do, working at the art center, painting, my writing not so much as I wonder what I really have to say. Some friends do BIG things (they are a little younger) and I'm envious. Envious that they have the energy and desire to do BIG things. I worry I'm falling behind. Becoming dull, or even lazy. On days I wonder what is my purpose in life. Then I read the above and realized kindness is a great purpose in life. And hopefully I live that every day.  With family, friends, people I meet. Talk to strangers who come in the art center and listen to them. They leave and I've made a new friend. Years ago after I lost my husband and started writing, I did a post about my front door that I painted blue. I found my biggest adventures came right outside that door, in my community. I didn't have to travel far to find what I love best. For me, I've discovered my greatest moments are close to home and after all these years, that is a grand life. I hope my purpose will continue to be there for others, listening, offering friendship, and trying to be the best I can. And the dogs, oh my, the dogs I've taken in and loved. I sit at night and watch them, once lost, now happy and fighting to see who gets to sit on my lap next. I've done well there!

Review of Carmen Leal's New Book "When Love Wags a Tail" for WOW!

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