I don’t know why I get out of the habit of writing here. Sure, I have absolutely nothing vital or even remotely interesting to say, but that’s not the point. The brain exercise ought to at least keep me coming back. My noggin feels smarter when I blog. Okay, maybe not smarter, but definitely clearer. Writing is healthy. It’s good stuff. I should do it more often.
This past weekend was a strange juxtaposition of tragedy and celebration. I spent Friday and Saturday alternating between a funeral for my cousin and a wedding for our good friend. It was rather bizarre, truth be told. I also attended Mass twice in one day. I haven’t been to Mass since … well, since the last funeral I attended. Or maybe the last wedding.
As the weekend unfolded and I had to make decisions about what things to attend (rehearsal dinner or calling hours? Pictures at park, or mournful luncheon?), I found myself gravitating towards the funeral functions. I didn’t want to be at the wedding, making merry. It felt more comfortable to be at the funeral home, surrounded by weepy people and rapidly-emptying boxes of Kleenex. (They were real Kleenex, by the way. I checked.) Now, what is wrong with me, that I’d rather focus on gloom than gaiety? Maybe it’s got something to do with the fact that the clothes you wear to funerals are a lot less revealing. Black is more flattering than, say, lamé (not that I’d ever wear lamé anywhere.) Or maybe I’ve become a negative person who prefers sobbing in a dusty funeral parlour to the artificial pageantry of an all-out wedding reception.
(Or maybe I may have just answered my own question.)
Anyway, all that’s behind us, and now we can focus on really important things, like planting seeds and getting the garden ready for the growing season. I hope we don’t go another round with the bunnies and deer, but I’ll give them a damn good fight this year if we do. Meanwhile, things are already looking greenish. Spring is here, honestly and truly. I have some plants coming up, many returning from last year, some of which I never thought we’d see again and some of which I have no idea where they came from.
Check out these sweet little flowers in the backyard:
And look at this gorgeous bloodroot, which came from who-knows-where (I didn’t plant it, that’s the thing)
These adorable little perennials are displaying up front:
In the woods across the street, there are many other pretties making their annual spring appearances:
Of course, it wouldn’t be spring without the bluebells. They’re up and getting ready to put on the late-April show.
I’ve got a few peas coming up (should take pictures of those, before the bunnies find them) and some other things started in pots, like parsley and tomatoes. All of our tomato seeds are saved from last year’s crop and/or heirloom fruit we got from friends, the CSA box, etc. Same with peppers. This is an experiment: I’m testing out our highly scientific seed-saving technique (which involves dumping the pulpy seeds into a small container, covering with a coffee filter, and letting them congeal into a hard film. In the spring I peel the film off the bottom of the container, stick it in a pot, cover it with dirt, and voila.)
The girls got some seeds in their Easter baskets (Cosmos and bachelor’s buttons) and are eagerly watching to see when they’ll bloom. Those are some fast-germinating plants, let me tell you. We planted them maybe five days ago and already have little sprouts in our pots. I suppose annuals have to get on with it and not waste time, unlike perennials, who can try again the following year if things don’t work out so well.
Our tulips bloomed on Saturday, incidentally. I haven’t photographed them yet, but we have two glorious flame-orange blooms out front. I’d better get those tomorrow, too, before the deer find them.