Sunday, May 2, 2021

Turns out I have a few minutes to write to you after all. We decided to leave for our canoe trip a little later than originally planned, just to let the air warm up a bit before we got on the water. So here I am, peacefully drinking coffee and not rushing around, which is fine because I spent all of yesterday rushing around like mad and am happy not to be doing it now.

By the way: before I forget, here's a new poem, "Finding the Muse in Harmony, Maine," out in the current issue of Hole in the Head Review. 

Now, back to the story of rushing around: I gardened full-tilt yesterday . . . prepped ground and then planted three colors of dahlias, plus sunflower, zinnia, scarlet runner, nasturtium, and green bean seeds; then transplanted a bunch of creeping thyme into the stones along the edge of the sidewalk; then rushed out to the nursery and bought a beautiful little Korean white azalea and a lupine for the Hill Country (yes, I now live in a place where you actually have to buy lupines instead of watching them run wild in northcountry rock meadows) and some shade annuals and greenery (white and yellow begonias, trailing vinca) for backyard containers; and then dug holes and filled flower pots and watered; and then mowed grass and ran the trimmer; and then made vanilla ice cream and scalloped potatoes and prepped steaks for the grill; and then stood next to the boys in the backyard and said: "If I were giving this place a grade, I'd say it has now advanced to a  C-," . . . which isn't bad, considering that it was a straight F when we bought it.

In contrast with yesterday's craziness, I will spend today in the middle of a three-person canoe, lolling like Cleopatra as two strong men propel me down a lazy stream. Makes me wish I owned an asp hat.

1 comment:

David (n of 49) said...

You in an asp hat: now there's a blog photo.