Dogs and flowers and not much else.

Did you have a nice long weekend?  Despite our original plans falling through, we managed to have a lovely one.  We spent a night at my parents’ cabin – the “cabin” that is three times the size of my house and has twice as many bathrooms, which is my idea of camping – and played in the garden a lot.  My husband has been trying to get action shots of Barkley to make me a “Barkley calendar”, but so far the shots have been a bit blurry:

Besides “camping”, I’ve been in a frenzy of gardening and yard work over the past couple of days.  I didn’t get enough plants on my first trip to the garden centre:

Such a teeny cartful!  I headed out yesterday to stock up and also to enjoy that feeling of youth that only can be attained by being the youngest person in a place by thirty years.  I had to make TWO trips into the store, and it’s lucky I drive a minivan:

But even so one of the containers had to ride shotgun.

I came home eager to get started, but just as I pulled into the garage, our arbourist pulled up, chainsaw in hand.  Our beautiful old hawthorn tree had contracted fireblight – which sounds dramatic, no? – and was, essentially, dead.  We’d been waiting for a couple of weeks for the arbourist to work his tree removal magic.  My plans had to be put on hold, on account of me not wanting to be crushed to death by falling branches; I went to go check my email, came upstairs, and the tree was now several piles of wood on the ground.  It was so fast, I forgot to mourn the loss of the tree.  On the bright side, our yard seems HUGE.  I feel like I’m living on an acreage.  In any event, I did get some, but not all, of the planting done.  Today it’s pouring rain and it’s forecasted to continue for a while, which is great for my new plants but puts a little cramp in my gardening plans. 

The house is dark, and it’s dark and rainy outside, but it feels cozy, like a nice morning to get some writing done and drink coffee and bake something delicious.  And occasionally stare out the window at the plants on the deck, waiting anxiously to be put into the ground and spread out their roots.

Speaking of spreading out roots, my arbourist asked how long we’ve been in this house, and I realized with some shock that it’s been thirteen years.  Thirteen years!  Long enough for us to renovate our house not once but several times, long enough for me to dig out all the old neglected gardens and replant everything, long enough for me and the boys to become fixtures in the neighbourhood, long enough for my next door neighbour to finally stop calling me “Michelle”.  This same neighbour was out doing yardwork on the weekend, along with his wife.  His wife, who was mowing the lawn and wearing a man’s oversized muscle shirt and NOTHING ELSE.  Literally, nothing else.  What has been seen cannot be unseen, if you know what I’m saying here.  And no, this neighbour is not related to the one who is famous for gardening in only his red cutoff sweatpants and nothing else.  Wow, what is going on in my neighbourhood?  Every day is interesting, let’s leave it at that.