I spent the morning with a pair of pruning shears in my hands. There were daisies to deadhead. There’s shade on that side of the house that time of day, and there was a great breeze this morning. All the daisies were cut back. It was actually a pleasant outdoor activity, given the heat wave. And now, hopefully, in another two or three weeks the daisies will show us new flowers for the effort.
The big decorative show shrubs also got a little trim. Some other weeds were pulled from the earth. A few more pokeweed plants, some vines, an oddly emerging tree sapling all came out. On the corner, there’s a trellis, it is in the sun at that time of day, which the sprawling roses enjoy. I noticed that amidst the thriving roses there was one, big, dead branch. That needed to be cut away, and I had some pruners right there in my right hand. So I did the thing where you follow it around the other growing things, through the trellis, and down to the earth. That’s when I found out why that one was dead. Someone had cut it, and left it in place.
In took me about two minutes to make four strategic cuts and carefully pull the thorny thing out of the trellis, and away from the happily growing roses. Why no one else had done that will just remain a mystery, right there alongside what that oddly placed light switch in the hall is supposed to do.
There’s an oak tree on the other corner of the house. It has a wonderful little fork right about eye height. Soil got in the crook of that tree somehow or another. And from that soil had emerged a strand of poison ivy. I had one bad run-in with poison ivy in the oughts, and so I carefully cut that back. Then I put away my bucket of weeds, my pruning shears and washed my hands. And then I took a shower, just to be sure. And then I washed my clothes for good measure. (And being careful, and more observant than I was in 2007-or-whatever, I did not get Urushiol on me.)
After some mid-day store errands, I took a little bike ride. It was the absolute hottest part of the day, which wasn’t the problem. The problem was that I stopped for a few minutes in the early going, and that allowed the sweat to pour, rather than evaporate in the wind.
This means sweat is getting in my eyes. And I am, of course, riding on brand new roads. I mean, brand new. I mean, pulling up more than one map to make sure I am following my plan. Because of the sweat stinging away, and alternating eyes, and because they are new roads, I did not follow my plan perfectly. But close enough. Trying new roads on your bicycle is such great fun.
I just could not keep the perspiration from my eyes, and after a half hour or so of that, a strange, full-body sensation came over me. I think that all of the eye rubbing and eye irritation felt a lot like how you feel just after a real big, long cry. And, suddenly, the rest of me figured that out. Now my chest and my lungs and my stomach and everything else is paying attention. What’s wrong? Is something wrong? Something is wrong. Should we be concerned? Emotional protocols activated. We’re tightening everything up! The mind wanders, even when you aren’t aware of it.
Before all of that, I saw what has to be the largest excavator east of the Mississippi. I know there’s not much here to use as scale (other than those two big tractors) just remember, this was mid-bike ride, and I was using one eye at a time.
When I found that closing both eyes was the most comfortable condition, it was time for this little recovery ride to end. Fortunately, I was in the neighborhood. Down one hill, around the corner and up the driveway. Do you know how hard it is time your stop, so you don’t foolishly ram your garage door while riding with your eyes closed? Neither do I, but I thought about trying it.
This was the temperature when I got back inside.
Here’s the thing. I could do that four or five more times and be just fine. A lifetime in sticky subtropical climes means you can easily adjust to the condition. Only, I don’t want to be in a heatwave for that long anymore.
Hours and hours later, I still feel red-eyed.
In the early evening I deadheaded the daisies in the backyard. I pruned a bit on the big beautiful hibiscus bush. I watered a few other plants. And then I set out to fix this door.
This building is a little decorative garden shed. It isn’t wide enough, or deep enough, to walk into. But there are some handy shelves in there. Great for fertilizer and other gardening accessories, and we intend to do that. But, if you’ll notice those two planks right in the middle of the door. They were missing from the door. Today was the day I got around to studying the problem because, really, I want to store gardening accessories in there, but you need to be able to protect them from the elements. So I looked at the door, figuring I could just cut some thin lumber, bluff my way through the tongue-and-groove and have an actual, functioning door, even if it was badly mismatched.
But then I found the two original pieces of lumber.
There are two morals to this little story. The first one is this. The tool you have is not *always* the best tool. Pruners are not staple removers. It seems that the previous owners tried to reattach this wood with staples. They protrude from the outside in, but they did not make it into the cross brace. They were, in fact, just in the way of things. So I pulled out one staple with the pruners and thought, This will work just fine and then, buoyed with the overconfidence that comes with luck, I managed to stab myself in the left thumb.
So, if we’re keeping score, I have now invested blood and sweat into the new house. Tears, TBD.
Here’s the second moral to the story. The easy, quick, good-enough, halfway solutions to small problems you make will one day be noticed, and questioned, by others. (By now, I could write a dense pamphlet on some of the previous owners’ decisions. Nothing huge, or uncorrectable, but a lot of it curious.) Better to do it right. Or better. Aim higher than good-enough, is the point.
The door on that little gardening building has been repaired. One more thing off the list. (And it’s a fun list! This is going to be fun to accomplish and remove things on this list!) And my thumb, which is perfectly fine, is sporting a cool bandage.
And now there’s a cat laying on my left forearm. That’s either cuddle therapy for the scratch on my thumb or a sign that I should shut down the computer for the night.
