Posted tagged ‘primroses’

“Let us be grateful to people who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.”

March 22, 2016

A lovely day with lots of sun, a deep blue sky and a little breeze greeted me this morning. Most of the snow has disappeared. The only bits left are in shaded areas. I’m being hopeful and putting my primroses on the front step. They’ve been in the house keeping warm since I bought them, but I think it is warm enough to introduce them to the world.

Today I have lists, but I’m quite behind my time because I spoke to both of my sisters this morning. One sister is sick so it was a short conversation, but my other sister, in Colorado, and I spoke close to an hour. Yes, we did find plenty to talk about for all that time. Lulls are generally not part of our conversations.

I still keep in touch with a few of my childhood friends. We talk every couple of months and get together about twice a year. My college friends and I lost track of each other while I was in Ghana. We wrote for a while but the time between letters got longer and longer and then the letters stopped. We were living far different lives a long way from each other. I still have Peace Corps friends that I met in 1969, and I feel as close to them now as I did when we worked and lived together. We shared an experience few are fortunate to have and built a bond which has stayed strong. We have stories which make us laugh every time we tell them. I think it is the same with just about every volunteer no matter the country of service. We all have a bathroom story, but I use bathroom loosely here. Outhouse, hole in the ground or a quick run into the bushes would be better choices. I know I’ve tried them all. We have great stories about medical problems and try to top each other in the telling. The conversations usually include worms, boils, tropical skin diseases, infections, cracked lips and feet and diarrhea, the bane of most volunteers. We graphically describe the symptoms and are never offended or grossed out by what we hear. Sometimes we even applaud the story, the grosser the story the longer the applause.

My closest friends live down the street. We are an odd family of three. We celebrate major and rare holidays together, rare holidays like Cowboy Day. We decorate and wear special clothes to help celebrate. I still have my cowboy hat and my sombrero from Cinco de Mayo. We greeted the sunrise together at the beach on the first day of spring. I’m working on their Easter baskets. They are fun friends. My life is enriched by knowing them.

I have no idea how I got where I did. I guess mentioning childhood friends set me on my way. I’ll just end here with how lucky I am with my friends.

“A flower blossoms for its own joy.”

April 12, 2014

The daffodils have bloomed. It was an overnight miracle. When I went to get the papers this morning, the first thing I noticed was the bright eye-catching yellow. I had been waiting for them to bloom as I knew they were close. I saw each lovely flower dipping ever so slightly as if in homage to the sun. I stopped for a while to check out the rest of the garden, not wanting to miss a single thing. I noticed one hyacinth has a red flower close to blooming. Other daffodils have buds almost ready to open. Small hyacinths dot the different gardens. White croci have appeared. My garden is alive and filled with spring.

The sun is bright, but the day is chilled by a slight breeze. I was on the deck for a while watching Gracie in the yard and the birds at the feeders, but I got cold so I came inside for coffee and some biscotti, orange-cranberry.

Yesterday I bought flowers, primroses, and a new pot for the front steps. I’ll plant them today. They are hearty flowers which will survive the 40˚ nights. It is still too early for garden flowers, and I’m champing at the bit. I love buying flowers. I also need several new clay pots for the deck, and my small vegetable garden needs the fence fixed. Spring brings lots of garden chores, even for small gardens like mine.

My laundry is sitting in the hall. Today is day one. I brought it down from upstairs this morning.  The longest it has sat in the hall is three days before I couldn’t take it anymore. It isn’t as if doing the laundry is anathema. It is just one of those things. When I was a kid, I always thought that making the bed was a waste of time because it got slept in again that night. I figured it was easier leaving it in the morning as it was already cozy from the night before. My logic was generally refuted.