Sitting on a tailgate

I'm planning to build a hosta garden this summer.  Along the side of the yard is a long, shaded stretch, where I already have hostas growing. But I want to build a retaining wall and put fresh dirt there and transplant the hostas so that they can enjoy themselves more.

I went to the store yesterday and bought two hundred retaining wall stones.  I was afraid the truck couldn't handle the weight, so picked up the stone in four trips.  On my third trip the fellow who helps with the fork lift was busy.  I parked the truck in the loading zone, waved to the guy to make him aware that I was there, put down the tailgate... and sat on it.  And time went by.

And I sat there and watched cars and trucks go by.  A lady rode over the curb while taking too sharp a turn.  Large trucks backed up slowly to dump their wares, and I wondered how they make that look so easy.  I wondered if I should pull out my cell phone and read email.  I tossed that idea away quickly.  And I just sat there.  Thinking that I don't need to be thinking.  And that I shouldn't let impatience creep in and that I shouldn't wonder where the heck that fork lift was because I had better things to do than sit on a tail gate.

And I just enjoyed the quiet in my little bubble, and watched the clouds and people, and sat.

And eventually the fork lift guy came and life carried on...   

Normal

Days three without posting.  I hope this isn't a trend but rather simply not being able to think of something to write about.  Or maybe it's just about being tired.

I went to get another load of mulch... my third.  It has opened my eyes... just a little... that I have well... lots of gardens.  But I'm in denial.  I went to the same place, and they were just as trusting as before.  Just saying...

The other day a good friend of ours sent us a video of Calvary folk doing a "Covid" drive-by to all the church families.  It was so very good to see familiar faces.  Some that we hadn't seen in a very long time.

A couple of days ago I had thought about this blogging thing.  And I noticed that many of my past blogs talk about snippets in life.  About little things that catch one's attention.  I saw that I don't get deep into "topics".  And I chewed on the idea of normal-ness, continuity, sameness, habits, and routines.  Versus seeing the things not in the normal and appreciating them and seeing them for what they are.  Anita and I have said to each other that our lives seemed so full of not-normal, that the not-normal was really our normal.  How complicated is that!

And I guess we go on, knowing that no matter how normal or not normal life is, there is at least One who is constant.

Life and pools

Today I took my first dip in a pool for 2020.

After spending time working around the yard and running a few errands, it was time for lunch, then time for a quick visit to Laura and Chris.  We intended to sip on a MacDonald's coffee, which I had not done in quite some time, spend an hour or so talking, and then indirectly head home.

Chris and Laura had put in an above ground pool last week.  It was just begging to be used.  I didn't bring along a bathing suit, but fortunately Laura had an extra, four sizes smaller than I normally wear.  That did not stop me.  I struggled to get into it, and jumped into the fifteen degree pool.

I must say, it was quite a refreshing experience.  The best part was that the two dads and the two grand kids were in the pool, making a whirlpool, and not really worrying about being too near each other.  We were close in more ways than one.  It was so good just to yell about the cold, laugh to and about each other, and just enjoy life for a bit.

I'm glad they got the pool, but I won't tell our Premier.

After the pool we decided to go to Michael's to buy a gift. We had expected to do that, so I had taken along "The Fellowship", a tome about the Inklings.  It's a great read.  While Anita went shopping, I opened the van windows and read a bit.  I started to notice the people walking in and out of the stores, or lining up for their turn to go into a store.  And I noticed how well people behaved.  Not everyone was wearing a mask, but almost all made sure they kept their distance.  And I thought how strange and surreal it is when it's a good thing not to be close.  In a sense, not to be community.  And I wonder if that is partly why life well... is just so odd.     

Harry and a robin...

This afternoon, while sitting on the front porch reading a book from Charles Williams, I looked up and saw Harry across the street.  Harry is old.  He and his wife still live in an older house with what most people would consider a very messy yard.  But I see form and pattern in it that says to me that Harry knows very much what he is doing with his gardens.  When we first moved into our house we popped over to say hello because we noticed Harry and his wife on the front step.  We never see Harry's wife any more.

Harry has a rooster.

Anyway, despite being very old, Harry drives.  He was returning from somewhere and backed into his driveway.  He got out and locked his car door with a key.  He forgot something in the car, unlocked the door, got what he wanted, locked the door, and opened the back door of the car to get more stuff.  He then opened his trunk, took out more stuff, and walked to his back yard.  All done very slowly.

When we see Harry at other times he sits on a bench at the front of his house either reading a book or sleeping.  He seems... alone.  And I wondered if I shouldn't say hi.

We now have our back patio door open during the day.  It's actually warmer outside than in the house.  While writing this blog I heard the sound of a robin just outside the door.  It seemed to be talking and I wondered what he or she was saying.  Robins are interesting birds.  Whenever I mow the lawn a robin comes quite close and looks for worms.  If I get too close he or she simply hops away.  I wonder what that is all about.

And that's all I got...

More mulch please

Ahhh... Spring is here.  I cut out a bit earlier than normal to pick up a second load of mulch. 

"Hello sir... can I help you?"

"A yard of black mulch please."

She was efficient but friendly and she knew what I meant when I said "yard".  I paid and left.

I took off the back cover and drove the truck to the mulch pile in the far corner of the yard.  I waited for only a few minutes until a loader with a one yard sized bucket came over.

"That what you want?"

"Yeah... one yard of the black stuff", I yelled over the noise of the loader.

He backed up, grabbed a bucket full, and loaded it into the truck... carefully.  I trusted him.

I gave him the thumbs up when the bucket was empty, and walked over.

"Do you need to see the receipt?" I yelled.

"Nah".  And he drove off.

I leveled the mulch, put the cover back on, and drove to the exit.

A lady by the gate waved goodbye.

"Do you want to see my receipt? I yelled.

"You pick up a load of mulch?"

"Yeah"

"Okay.. see ya".  And I drove away.

And I thought to myself how neat it was that all of us trusted each other.  Trust is an interesting thing because I think it means as much a giving as a taking.  It means respect, and understanding and... well... goodness and rightness I guess.

I'll go back there again.

Greenhouses

I was running stuck on what to blog so I clicked on Spotify and am now playing Ash and Bloom.  A glass of red wine sits beside my laptop.

This morning despite the rain I went to the nearest garden center and bought more annuals and four bags of dirt.  I refused to believe that I should not be planting on the May long weekend and so I was not to be beat by the rain.  I was the first customer because I discovered, after faithfully following the arrows on the floor, that I was all alone in the greenhouse.  All by myself in an expansive greenhouse loaded with annuals.  I ran back and forth, hummed and hawed, retraced steps, picked up plants and put them down... all without any worries about getting too close to someone else.  It was such a relief.

Ash and Bloom are singing "Hello rain..".  Appropriate.

Anyway, the rain stopped long enough to let me plant the flowers.  I look forward to when folks can come over and just sit with us for a little.

Peach tea and banana bread

Peach tea and banana bread.  I remember well those days, quite a while ago now, when that was how I began many of my older blogs.  It's one of those sayings that remind a person of days past and of journeys taken.  Of friends and family who "were there" when they were most needed.  I am still thankful.

The two of us have caught ourselves over the last days and weeks talking about days gone by.  Reminiscing and sometimes even feeling lonely.  We talk about what surprises life may have for us.  And we remind ourselves that we've certainly learned that "the best laid plans..." are not made by us ... but we do it anyway.

I think about having such a small community right now... on needing to rely more on the two of us for company, when before... well, sometimes life made us feel like two ships passing in the night.

It's just started raining.  The rain that had been promised to start at noon decided to start at 2:30 instead. We had just finished a coffee after church.  The sun was still in the room, the fireplace was going, a new book was ready to be read.  And things were good because it was a long weekend, we had tomorrow off, yesterday we had a great back-yard visit, and we just knew that this was all good.

I chewed on the idea of loneliness.  Perhaps because there are some who feel it more, like Dad and others I know dearly.  And I wondered how it was that loneliness carries with it a "missing-ness".  And I wondered why a person - like me too - doesn't so easily feel... I mean really feel... the presence of God at that moment.  I mean... palpably.  Like you could touch him. So much so that it feels like someone is right there in the room.  Enough to take away the loneliness.

And the chewing didn't go much further than that.  Other than to perhaps realize that God gets it.  He's been there... more than we can ever imagine.

And that he is right here.