Posted tagged ‘rain’

“I sew his ears on from time to time, sure.”

June 18, 2013

We are blessed yet again with a beautiful day, sunny with a pleasant breeze. The weather says showers later, but I’m okay with some rain. We haven’t had any in a few days. Yesterday I watered all the flowers on my deck and the vegetable garden just below the deck, and I had to fill the watering can a couple of times so the rain will help. Yesterday I also replaced a set of lights in the backyard. They are wound around a metal rod and look wonderful at night. Because the yard is all brush and trees, the lights look brilliant shining through the darkness. Two stars of white lights shine on the other side of the yard. At night, I like to stand by the deck rail and just look at the yard. It’s like having hundreds of fireflies putting on a show.

I have a busy day today making and changing beds, doing a laundry and some grocery shopping. My sister is coming down and staying a few days, all because of my back. It has been horrible of late so I saw a neurosurgeon in Hyannis a couple of weeks ago who had me get new x-rays and an MRI. When I saw him last week for the results, he said nothing really had changed since the last surgery, but he suggested I have surgery to add two more screws to the side opposite where the two screws already are. He said it could help or not, but it wouldn’t make it worse. The idea that it might help was enough so I agreed. I’m having surgery tomorrow. The hospital stay should be a couple of days so Coffee will go dark until Saturday at the earliest, but maybe not. I’m bringing my iPad so if I feel okay, I’ll post Thursday or Friday. Nothing better than an insider’s look at the hospital. I’ll be in a single room so no roommate horror stories. I could go Stephen King and make something up. I think a hospital is a great spot for eerie doings and wandering spirits. My imagination can go hog-wild.

My sister is taking care of the cats and Gracie. Fern and Maddie are easy, but Miss Gracie demands a lot of attention. She’ll also want to sleep in the single bed with my sister. I’m changing my bed just in case Sheila needs more room to share. She also came down for last surgery, and we’re both hoping the recovery will be as easy as it was the last time. I’m happy for the company. I don’t see her often enough.

I expect all will go well and we’ll be chatting again in a few days!

“Never run in the rain with your socks on.”

June 14, 2013

Mother Nature seems to have forgotten we’re close to the middle of June. It is 57˚. My house is cold enough that I’m wearing socks and a sweatshirt. The sky is gray and the wind is blowing. It poured rain all night into this morning. Sun is predicted tomorrow so I’ll just have to be patient with today.

I’m late as I met friends for breakfast. We get together once a month. All of us worked at the high school together and we all retired with a few years of each other. This morning there were 11 of us.

When I was growing up, nobody I knew skied or golfed. Those were sports for people with money. Miniature golf was the closest we ever got. I did go to the private golf course in my town but only in winter with my sled or my toboggan. I never even learned to water ski despite living by the ocean. My father only had a row-boat.

Only once did I ever go snow skiing. It was in Colorado when I was visiting my sister and brother-in-law. I got off the lift easily without falling, but as I went down the hill, I started speeding so fast and out of control I got afraid and threw myself to the ground just before I ended up in the trees. It took forever for me to get up and get the skis back on my feet. One or the other ski would slide down the hill by itself. A passing skier would be kind enough to retrieve them for me. One was a little kid about nine. My descent after that was tentative at best, and I still nearly ended up in the parking lot. I had trouble stopping. My brother-in-law, a skier, asked my sister and me if we minded him skiing a bit. Nope. We loved sitting in the lodge and having hot drinks. That is still my favorite part of skiing.

“Wanderlust is incurable.”

June 13, 2013

Yesterday it rained in Hyannis. At the same time, the sun was shining when I got to West Yarmouth a bit down the road. The paper says rain again today, and we already have a sky filled with clouds. The day is also damp and has a bit of a chill. I’m going out for a few errands later. I have a list.

My usual quiet has been broken, The house next door is being reshingled, and all I can hear is the nail gun and its tap, tap, tap, tap, always four taps in a row. One guy is doing the whole job. It took him two days to do the small side of the house, the one nearest my house. Now he’s working on the back of the house.

When I taught, I traveled every summer. I’d be gone five or six weeks. I usually did Europe though I did have that one South American summer. I always had my backpack, my Go Europe guide-book and my Eurail pass. I never packed too many clothes: a couple of pairs of pants, a few shirts, underwear and a light jacket. I had my flashlight and my Swiss army knife with all the doo-dads. That was all I needed. I always traveled with a friend, and our only planning was deciding which countries to visit. We grouped them. One summer it was England, Scotland and Ireland. Another summer it was Denmark, Finland, Russia and England. You’re probably wondering about England in that grouping, but we always tried to spend at least a few days in London before we went home. Spain and Portugal were an obvious duo.

When I became an administrator, I had to work summers so I traveled April vacation but to only one country. I had become a suitcase traveler by then, but I still brought my Swiss army knife and a guide-book: still no plans ahead except the country and a rental car. I’d have a vague idea what I wanted to see, but I was always open to any adventure. Sometimes we’d see a sign with an arrow pointing to a side road and an attraction and we’d follow that arrow. We were seldom disappointed. Most times we had no reservations but still found great places to stay. I remember a farm in Belgium and a really old house in Ireland. Its steps going upstairs were bowed.

I’m not traveling this year. Two trips to Ghana have depleted my resources so I have to start saving again. A one year hiatus is about as long as my wanderlust will handle. Pinching pennies here I come!

“Morning is wonderful. Its only drawback is that it comes at such an inconvenient time of day.”

June 11, 2013

Another early morning for me-this is a habit I have to break. I was up at 7, read the papers, even did the crossword and the cryptogram, then left for my library board meeting at nine. I just got home.

Last night it poured again. The world is green and lush but damp and chilly at only 64˚. It is supposed to rain again today. I have to go out later to do three errands but not until the afternoon. Yesterday I did my laundry, all three loads of it. The hall is now clear. I even took the clean laundry out of the dryer and put it away. Usually it sits there a while. I don’t know where all this industry is springing from, but I’ve had enough.

My landscaper and I discussed the flowers he forgot to plant last week. I was able to grab him for the chat as I up and about so early. He promises tomorrow he’ll plant and then mulch. I reminded him that last week he also promised Wednesday. He laughed. Sebastian keeps telling me he wants to take down the two pine trees and the two wild roses in the front yard. I keep saying no.

It has been a long time since I last cooked a fancy dinner, and I’m thinking it’s about time for another. I’ll have to do my flow chart such that I cook over a couple of days so my back will be okay. No big dinner of mine ever gets done without a flow chart. It always starts with the recipes in order: appetizers, meat, side dishes and dessert. Beside each dish is where the recipe can be found. I then make a list of the ingredients by category like fruits, veggies, frozen, meat and assorted to make shopping easier. The flow chart also lists the steps for each day and on the day of the dinner for each hour.. Some things I can cook ahead a few steps but not finish until the big day. After the dinner time is set, my flow chart works around that time so all the food is ready and on the table together. The need for a flow chart grew out of past bad experiences when the dishes were ready at all different times and some dishes, especially salads, were left in the fridge and never served. My flow chart and I get made fun of by my guests. Taunting the hand that feeds you is never a good idea.

“The trouble with, “A place for everything and everything in its place” is that there’s always more everything than places.”

June 8, 2013

When the rain came yesterday, it arrived with a vengeance and poured all afternoon and evening. I left my window open here in the den so I could hear the heavy drops hitting the deck and trees. The wind was so strong it blew one of my huge umbrellas over, but I was lucky, though, as it missed 4 lanterns attached to the deck rail and three clay pots. My deck is again filled with debris, small branches and leaves, but I’m leaving the cleaning until the deck is dry.

Saturday is usually a busy day on my street, but it is still and quiet outside: no lawnmowers, no kids playing and no dogs barking, a rarity on any day. I went out yesterday to Hyannis and early last evening to dinner with my friend so I have not been housebound, but I feel it anyway. I think the clouds and the rain close in after a while.

Today I have no plans, nothing on my dance card. I might just do laundry; it’s been sitting in the hall for a few days. A while back that would have driven me crazy, and I would have had it finished the same day I brought it downstairs. That was when I still worked. My days had structure back then; they had to so I could get everything done. Now I do my chores whenever the spirit moves me. The laundry doesn’t bother me anymore. I’ll get to it sometime.

I have this cabinet, the one with all the pots and pans, assorted dishes for special occasions, small appliances, bowls and some Tupperware, and I think way in the back of it, in the corner, is a mouse nest. I know the mice are all gone, but I know the nest is still there. Before I started the Great Mouse War, I found gnawed paper towels, a perfect nesting material, soft and comfy. I keep saying I’m going to clean that cabinet, but I have this vision of starting the project, getting too tired to finish and leaving the kitchen floored covered with whatnots from that cabinet. A while back I did clean it, and the cabinet looked great, but right now it’s filled. I don’t even remember what is in the way back. I’m thinking Skip, my factotum, might be just the guy for this project.

“Time is an herb that cures all Diseases.”

June 2, 2013

The morning is cloudy and cooler than it’s been. Thunder showers are predicted for this evening and tomorrow, but I won’t complain. I love thunder showers, and the flowers and the grass can use the rain.

Yesterday was to be my sloth day. It wasn’t. I ended up planting flowers and herbs in some of the deck pots, and I did two loads of laundry. My back is screaming from two days of hauling and bending. Today will really be a sloth day. I’m thinking about a nap. The cats and dog are already asleep.

The Cape Times has entered its summer mode. The paper uses just about a whole page to list events, shows, musicians, speakers and farmers’ markets. I check every morning for something interesting and then plan my day. Perhaps this will be another tourist summer, something I haven’t done for a while. I’ll go up Cape this year. My last tourist season I went down Cape. It’s always fun to answer the docents who want to know where we’re all from. Usually I’m the only one who says Cape Cod.

My front garden is so awash with color I wish I were a painter. The irises are in bloom, in purples and golds. A blue flower has also bloomed. I don’t know what it is but there are two, one on each front side of the garden. They stand tall in huge clumps. The wild rose bushes have buds, and the small lilac has bloomed in light purple. A white columbine sits daintily in the back of the garden. Lilies of the valley from my mother’s house have covered the ground on each side of the driveway, and the white, fragrant flowers have bloomed on the side which gets more sun. A few baby forsythia bushes, offspring of my oldest one which was a house-warming present, need to be dup up and passed along to friends for their yard. That will give me some space for a few new flowers, for more perennials. I’m going with red.

In addition to the flowers I planted yesterday I also planted basil and rosemary. I so love the smell of fresh rosemary that I run my hand up the whole plant then breath in the wonderful aroma. When I take scissors to the garden and cut fresh herbs for my recipes, I feel like a professional chef giving a tour of my garden in front of a camera which isn’t really there but then again neither is my audience.

I need a few more herbs for the garden, and I also have to plant the thyme I’ve already bought in its deck box. Oops, a pun jumped into my head here, a really corny pun, but I won’t submit you to it. I’ll leave that to Ben.

“When the sun shines wondrously in the morning, even the shadows in our mind start running away!”

May 30, 2013

Last night Gracie went out about 11 for her last visit to the yard before bed. When she came in, we went upstairs. I saw something out of the corner of my eye, light I thought, but I looked outside and saw nothing so I got comfy in bed to read. All of a sudden the loudest clap of thunder rattled the windows and went on forever. The rain came next, heavy rain, and then more thunder as loud and long as the first. I figured it was lightning I’d seen out of the corner of my eye, a warning of what was to come. I read for about an hour and then fell asleep to the sound of the rain. This morning I woke to sun and warmth. It is supposed to be around 83˚ today: too hot for May on Cape Cod.

It is just so quiet outside. The birds were singing earlier, but I don’t hear them anymore. A few leaves flutter on a branch but make no sound. I do hear Gracie snoring from her crate in the kitchen. It is often her spot for a morning nap. I don’t know where the cats are, but I know they’re sleeping somewhere. Today is my day to buy flowers for the deck and the front yard and vegetables and herbs for the side gardens. I’m going with red and white flowers for the deck, basil for the window boxes and cucumbers and tomatoes again for the garden. I’ll decide one more vegetable and a few more herbs when I roam at Agway. This is one of my favorite days though I usually end up going back at least one more time. I just can’t resist those flowers, and this year I have all those new pots to fill on the shelf I had built on the deck.

I’m leaving deck cleaning for tomorrow if my back cooperates or Saturday if it demands a day of rest which I suspect will happen given all the hauling from the car to the deck to the gardens. Tomorrow will probably be a recuperative day. No complaining here about sitting outside with a cold drink and a good book. I just started another Patterson, an Alex Cross, a perfect book for a summer’s day.

My laundry has been sitting by the cellar door for three days but hasn’t inspired me to do anything about it so it can sit a bit longer. As Scarlett was wont to say, “After all, tomorrow is another day.”

“The whole point of the week is the weekend.”

May 25, 2013

Last night I again fell asleep to the sound of the rain, but it was far gentler than the torrential rain of the night before so I didn’t need to shut my window. The rain has left the day chilly and damp. More rain is expected later. My grass has grown to such a monumental height several snakes could be hiding in it.

I need to get out of the house. It has been two days of staying home and watching bad movies, really bad movies, all the way through to the end. The worst by far was Dino Wolf. The plot was simple: human DNA was mixed with a prehistoric dire wolf skeleton and resulted in a hybrid monster with a taste for human flesh. The monster was the best actor in the movie, and it had no lines, just a lot of snarling and grunting. I sort of recognized one of the human actors but couldn’t come up with his name. It was Gil Gerard. I’d fire my agent if I were Gil.

I have a high tolerance for bad movies. They make me laugh. My sister Moe shares the same fondness for B movies. Each Christmas we try to out-do each other in finding and gifting the worst movie. Last year I gave her The Lost Skeleton of Cadavra, a favorite of mine, and the year before I gave her the Christmas movie Santa Claus made in 1959 in Mexico. Santa lives in outer space and is helped by Merlin. He goes to Earth and must defeat the devil who is bothering poor little Lupita. My sister has been out-done the last two years. I think nothing will ever be worse than Santa Claus. In the comment section I’ll leave the link to YouTube and the movie. I watched it all the way through when I bought it. I wanted to see if Santa would win!

The bridges are filled with on-coming cars this morning. I have no idea why. The weather is supposed to be bad today and tomorrow, but it seems the weekenders are not deterred. Next door, at the rental, there are two cars from New York. They come every year for this weekend and usually sit on the deck and party a bit, but they won’t this year. As for me, I’m staying off the main roads. They’ll be clogged with people looking for something to do. Gracie and I will meander on the side roads with no destination in mind. It’s the meandering we want.

“Cock your hat – angles are attitudes.”

May 23, 2013

I wish it would rain. The day is cloudy and a dampness has given the house a bit of a chill so I’ve lowered the downstairs windows. Yesterday I did a few chores and a couple of errands. One stop was for cat food and clay flower pots at Agway. Tomorrow I’ll shop to fill the pots and also get herbs for the herb garden and the deck window boxes. Next week I’ll buy some front garden flowers. I noticed a few empty spots.

The spawns have found a new way to harass me. The tall bird feeder holder with the anti-squirrel baffle at the bottom had to be moved. The spawns were jumping from trees to get at the top of the pole where there are holders for four feeder stations, and the spawns have enjoyed dining at each one. When Skip came last week, I had him move the pole away from all the trees. Now the spawns are flying off the deck to the feeders. The problem, though, is getting off. There is no easy way so they sort of just fall unto the fence below the pole, the fence which is protecting my vegetable garden. The spawns knock over the posts and the wire gets bent down from the force of their bodies falling from so high. It has happened three times and I have fixed the fence three times. Now I have this dream of a hunter dressed in khaki, wearing a pith helmet, also khaki, sitting on my deck steps with an elephant gun in his hand just waiting for the spawns. I think I’ll have them mounted. Meanwhile, the feeders remain empty until I can figure out a solution.

The hunter’s pith helmet got me thinking about hats. When we were little kids, we had two main hats. One was for winter, a woolen hat with ear flaps and a pretty design, and the other was an Easter hat, usually a new one each year to match our dresses. The Easter hats had ribbons in blue, yellow or spring green, but it didn’t matter to me how pretty or flowery or filled with ribbons the hats were because I never liked hats. My mother, however, insisted I wear a hat when I walked to school on blustery cold winter days, but it never helped all that much to keep me warm. My head might have been fine, but my face was always freezing cold with bright red cheeks. Mittens were more essential. The Easter hat went into the closet and was pulled out only for Sundays.

I don’t wear hats any more. In the winter I sprint from the house to the car and back again when I get home. On Easter I wear one to my friends’ house: it’s a wide brim pink hat like those models during the 50’s wore. I don’t wear it to dinner when we go out though I might one year as a lark.

Maybe in my future is me as an eccentric old lady wearing a hat every place I go, even the dentist. I think I’ll start with the old faded red band hat with the plume. I’ll drop feathers everywhere I go.

‘I don’t know why, but the meals we have on picnics always taste so much nicer than the ones we have indoors,’ said George.”

May 14, 2013

Although it is only a bit after 10, I have already had a busy morning in contrast to yesterday’s day of sloth. I woke up at 6:30 to the sound of raindrops, came downstairs, went to get the papers then read both of them. When I was finished, I went upstairs and  changed my bed. As I unfurled the bottom sheet, a sock flew out of the corner, the missing sock to one of the few pairs I have without holes. I never throw socks away. I always figure the shoe hides the holes. I then finished the bed, got dressed and left for my 9 o’clock library board meeting. Our biggest agenda item was choosing between plastic or wood for planting tubs and between Alberta Spruce and some other bush with a Japanese sounding name. We went wooden and the bush with a Japanese sounding name. I tried to Google the name of the bush and put into Google Odd Bush with Japanese sounding name, but George W. kept appearing. That gave me a bit of a chuckle. My next stops were the post office and the pharmacy. My last stop was voting in the town election. The big race is for selectman, three running for two spots. There were also two requests for tax overrides and a non-binding question as to whether the nuclear plant in Plymouth should be closed. People are a bit edgy that the evacuation route means driving by the plant. While I was driving all over town doing errands, the sun came out and the sky turned a light blue. It is, however, still a bit cold, only in the low 50’s. My heat came on this morning.

When I was a kid, we never went on a picnic just for the sake of a picnic. We’d eat outside sitting on the back steps which is, I suppose, a cousin to the picnic; however, I do remember stopping at rest areas and eating at picnic benches but only on long rides, usually to somewhere for vacation. We ate at the beach, but it was the water and the sand which drew us, not a picnic. My mother had a picnic basket and a red Tartan jug. She made great sandwiches, and there were usually chips and Oreos.

When I was in Ghana, we went on picnics just for the fun of a picnic. We’d bring the small charcoal burner, some hot dogs from a can or from the meat factory that used to be in Bolga, bread, chopped tomatoes and onions and probably something for dessert though I don’t remember what. I’m leaning toward the sweet donuts or the toasted coconut balls. We’d load up then ride our motorcycles a bit into the bush. Once I remember being near Tonga and another time paying guys to haul our bikes across a small pond. We’d sit on a blanket, enjoy our lunch and watch Ghana. I loved those picnics.

Here on the cape we used to have picnics on a hill overlooking the Grist Mill. We’d climb and complain about it as we carried the basket of goodies and the drinks. I remember being so glad to reach the top and hurrying to spread out the blanket so I could collapse. We’d stay for hours.

We’d bring picnics to Sunday night band concerts every week. We all took turns bringing the appetizer, the dinner or the dessert and then we’d share. Another time we had a picnic before a town meeting. Lots of people did. We all sat about the baseball field or the bleachers enjoying dinner from a basket. The meeting was with both towns about the school budget and was on the high school football field. The chairs were under a tent and I thought it had a bit of the circus about it. A group of musicians played before the meeting and the snack bar was open. That was a long time ago.

I think it’s time to bring back picnics and Tartan jugs.