May 3, 2023
A new month is here, and we
continue to progress even further into spring. There is still chill and dampness
in the air. In fact, we’re in the fourth or fifth day in a row of it. We’re
expecting some rain each day until Friday.
The chill and the dampness are
the worst for me, even harder on my arthritis than the sub-zero days in the
depths of winter. You’ve heard that old expression, “it’s not the heat, it’s
the humidity”? Well, as far as my arthritis is concerned, humidity, which is
another word for dampness in the air, is equally bad be the temperatures in the
thirties or the nineties.
This week, David had been
planning on emptying the dirt out of his table gardens. He’s going to deepen
them by adding another layer of wood along all four sides of the top, and then
he wanted to move the tables, reorient them in the half of the back yard that
has been designated as our garden area.
Remember I told y’all, that he
didn’t understand why we should replace, rather than simply add to the soil? He
has a frugal, frugal heart. Our daughter and I have both been telling
him that the soil needs to be replaced—and really, it won’t be a waste as there
are a few areas out the rest of the yard that really need to be “built up”, so
taking the dirt out of the table gardens will be a benefit to those places. As
you can imagine, neither one of the women who live with him had much success in
convincing him that we knew what we were talking about. However, this past
weekend, we had a guest for supper on Sunday—the young man who is the son of
David’s good friend from back in the day. While that old friend lives a long,
multi hour drive away, his son is only a forty-minute drive, at most, to the east
of us.
During the visit, David was
talking about looking forward to the upcoming planting of his gardens. I took
the opportunity to say how, really, maybe he should consider replacing the soil
in those gardens, because of the acidic detritus in the dirt thanks to the
looming cedar trees that hang over a part of the back yard—not to mention the
squirrels who in the fall, once all the produce has been harvested, use those
gardens to hide their “cedar nuts”.
Our young friend nodded and
said, that yes, he does need to do that. He explained to David that too much
acid in the soil could possibly kill what he’s trying to grow. And yes, that settled
the matter for him. Now, that dirt has got to go! At least, that was how he
felt on Sunday. I’ll keep you posted, because, sadly, there won’t be any work
done on those gardens until the rain stops.
We’re also going to get some
mesh to place over the box, or boxes, that will contain seeds. If we pant any
seeds. David actually started beans in February, upstairs in front of a window
with lots of sun, and now he thinks he started them a bit too early. If there
are seeds, this year, with the mesh in place, the squirrels and chipmunks will
not be able to dig them up and eat them.
There has been a little—and I
do mean a little—bit of spring cleaning accomplished here in the Ashbury household.
There was a day when the doors stood wide open, front and back. That was my
version of cleaning the air. And there was some progress in actual house
cleaning, as well. Unfortunately, that lovely fresh day was followed be a
really hot day, and then a lot of rainy days, and that goal of zipping through
and getting my spring cleaning done in a matter of hours has been put on hold.
It was likely an unrealistic goal, so maybe I’ll just do what I can, when I can
and call it a good plan.
Yesterday was Nanny Tuesday
here, which is the day of the week that my daughter has her two grandchildren over
for visiting and supper. And last night, we had one more small mouth to feed.
My other great-granddaughter, the four-year-old granddaughter of our late son,
joined us. She was excited to see her cousins—and of course, one of her
favorite human beings in the entire world, her all-knowing and all-powerful “Aunt
Jen”.
Yesterday, it was also “pasta
day”, and that remains a favorite with the youngest among us. To please all palates,
we have both spaghetti with meatballs, and chicken Alfredo; they don’t like the
regular alfredo noodles, so we use the large shell pasta. There is the
requisite chicken, and of course that must be boneless, skinless white meat “done
the way G.G. makes it.” These are the instructions of my nine-year-old great-granddaughter
who is, you guessed it, a very picky eater. And I, of course, am G.G.
Usually, Jenny and I prepare the
meal together, but as we had the four-year-old, I told her to just spend the
time with the kids, and that I could manage. I really don’t mind preparing the
meal on my own, because it’s really a simple dinner to make, and last night, as
we normally do, we also had Caesar salad and garlic toast with cheese.
And it didn’t surprise me one
bit that the four-year-old out ate us all. Also, since it was the first time in
a long while that we had the three children together at the table, and because
at four, the little one is old enough, we made our regular Tuesday tradition with
the kids of giving thanks for the meal a bit of a production.
Passing on little traditions—eating
the evening meal together, and giving thanks—those are important, and provide a
bit of structure, an element that I often think we just don’t have enough of these
days in our lives.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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