May 12, 2021
I hope all the moms reading
this had a good Mother’s Day on Sunday. I heard from most of my family, and that
for me is the most important thing of all. Having a day when I’ve heard from so
many of my loved ones always puts a smile on my face. I look forward to the day
when I can hug them all close.
The girls corralled my two grandchildren
who live in town, here—my late son’s two children—and since they’re members of
the working world, secured their contribution to flowering my porch. It’s the
Mother’s Day tradition my girls have chosen, and while they know that I would
be just as happy having only some of their time, I nevertheless made sure they
knew I appreciated the gifts.
My front porch now sports five
hanging baskets of flowers (including one dropped off by my son and that, too,
is his tradition), and David got me a window box to hang on the porch railing.
We have two more of those flower boxes in storage, currently empty, that we
will fill ourselves in the next month. The plan is for me to go to the local
nursery and tour the place on my scooter and pick out what I’d like.
I do love pansies, but we
weren’t able to get there in time this year for them. The local place only
sells those for the first little while in March and April. They say that
pansies are spring flowers, not well suited to the heat of summer, and while
that is true, mine have usually lasted the entire growing season because they
only get the morning sun and are in shade from about 11:30 on. I can’t very
well blame the growers for doing what for them makes the most economic sense.
Leaves have replaced buds on
most of the neighborhood trees and are growing more mature with each day. It
well and truly is springtime here in Southern Ontario, and in a supreme act of
faith that spring is here to stay until it melts into summer, I put away my “snuggie”
on Sunday, though it isn’t an actual trademarked snuggie. We bought two wearable
blankets from Amazon, one for each of us this past winter, and there were
evenings I was very grateful to be able to put on this fuzzy, warm blanket and
tuck my feet into the inside pocket. David felt the same way. It was the best
money we spent on ourselves this year. Better, because they really were quite
inexpensive.
Mine is currently neatly
rolled up in the same way one would roll a sleeping bag, tied with ribbon, and
sitting in my bedroom closet until the fall.
In our gardens, flowers are blooming.
At the moment I have daffodils and tulips, narcissi and hyacinths. My two
peonies are getting ready to make their annual appearance, and man are those
lilies-of-the-valley popping up everywhere! I have a bud vase that I am longing
to see filled with those fragrant little flowers. They, like the lilacs, once
picked, don’t last long. I often think the reason they die quickly in a vase is
they’re so full of scent that they’re the “flaming comets” of flowers. It takes
all their essence to scent the air with their beauty, that they die off
quickly. At least, that’s my take on the subject.
With the arrival of sunshine
and slightly warmer temperatures, our front porch is getting more use. We have
three padded chairs on it, and what a coincidence, there are three of us living
here. I don’t go out that often, so the third chair is a point of competition
between three dogs of my daughter’s dogs.
We have what looks like a wooden doll bed on the porch, too, but of course it’s
not a doll bed, but a dog bed. My daughter’s other dog, the teacup chihuahua,
likes that because like him, it’s low to the ground. Dogs who will not share a
chair will share that little bed with Zeus, or even each other, which is odd.
And not that our daughter’s four dogs are spoiled exactly, but they would
rather be on a bed or chair than on the carpeted (this year with artificial
grass) porch itself. As she often says, her dogs are not floor dogs.
Our two puppies who are now
more than a year old don’t, as the others, insist on sitting on the chair, nor
do they clamor of that little bed.
They’re much smarter than
that.
They insist, instead, on
sitting upon their daddy—Missy, the bigger of the two, on his lap and
Bear-Bear, who weighs in at a whopping two pounds, a bit higher, on his chest. And
they don’t even complain, overly much, if he brings out his kindle and insists
on reading while they’re being held.
As long as he is also their faithful
pet bed, they are content.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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