GRANDMA'S GARDEN

Sunday, April 11, 2004

SPRING CLEANING, no time, no time......

I lit my Siete Potencias Africanas candle, placed in on the stove and prayed for more energy, to work harder. Then I sat to paint for a few hours. Every time I stood up, I had to do some other job on my way to do whatever was calling me at that moment. So, for example, I mopped the bathroom floor on... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, November 29, 2003

No postings since October, this one is going, too.

Running leaner, I shall cut this blog out of my repertoire, tambien. Like my real garden it is going through a phase of abject neglect and I'm feeling bad about it. I cleaned off the front porch and painted a cabinet out there, painted the house numbers copper and put painted outlines around the... Sign in to see full entry.

Saturday, October 18, 2003

I sat reading the paper in the garden and drinking coffee and then.....

This Crazy Old Woman Just Swallowed a Fly, Perhaps I'll Die. There was an old woman who saw a fly in her coffee cup and followed through on her swallow, in spite of that. Maybe it didn't register in my demented old mind until after I had lifted the cup all the way and swallowed. I felt it wiggle and... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, August 15, 2003

Looks like West Nile Territory to me now.

GRANDMA'S EMPTY GARDEN The grandchildren are still off on vacation and at swimming lessons and the dog and I have to go to the park, to the new ‘doggies run free’ area to get that feeling of comraderie back in our life. The wonderful young man who lives in the guest house out in my back garden, put... Sign in to see full entry.

Friday, July 18, 2003

It rained and I can feel the plants sobbing in disbelief.

When I peeked out the window this morning, the trees were dripping, Puma's Path of stones was glistening in the soft grey sunlight, and the cacti were a dark new green, wet with last night's rain. The mesquite leaves by the millions are covered with glittering diamonds of life sustaining moisture.... Sign in to see full entry.

Today crying children brought a dead bird and a beautiful flower to me.

We had made a Hotel Birdie a year ago and our resident was dead, we were devastated. The children liked to watch the bird, a male who built a nest in there and never found a roommate, who had died lonely and alone. The flowers that we had planted for birds and butterflies to enjoy were all in bloom... Sign in to see full entry.

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