Sunday of Heavy Air
A sprinkle here, a sprinkle there. The air is heavy. It’s a good thing the birds do not mind it.
I was determined that the garden shoes would have to do what was needed to get the job done. Two holes were dug with fertilizer granules added. After the second hole was dug, I sized it up and realized it could have been better situated in the scheme of things. Too bad. A hole dug is a hole that will be plugged with a plant. In time to come, the plants will fill in and no one but me will know the difference. I headed out to the east and and after a time and two trips, I had plants for each hole. This is perfect transplanting weather.
Whatever plants remain on the east line of our acre has been offered to whomever may need some fillers.
I made use of the water faucet on the south side of the house by taking off my garden shoes and cleaning them from toe to heel. It didn’t bother me to rinse off my bare feet, the bottom of my cane and tip toe into the back entry.
When I came in, the brisket in the crockpot gave me a great welcome. I put carrots in the bottom. I had an onion but chose to leave it on the counter and use some meat rub I had on the pantry shelf. No potatoes were added. Though they get tender, they take on an unappetizing dark color. We had a few potatoes left in a five pound bag and there are now enough peeled with most likely enough for some American fries at another meal time.
I had all of this done by twelve noon and headed to the studio. It now feels oh so good to be done with the third and final half square triangle block. I will call this my pinkish mode using four different print scraps with a peach colored plain. Sometime soon, I will turn the page of the directions and see what is next. I have a black and white copy of the finished project, and what a great feeling to put an “X” through each block as I finish it.
This is deemed as a good day. I dwell on what I can do and not what I can’t. Actually, with thought and a plan the “can’t” becomes insignificant.