Yet another rambling post from the late bloomer bride. It’s been an interesting couple of days. It deserves some data dumping.
So, I spend the weekend NOT working (amazing for me) and instead worked in the rock and border gardens around our house. It was in the 60s and I decided Old Man Winter was asleep at the wheel this year, so why not get cracking early?
On Saturday, I first had to go to Lowes for a rake because we didn’t have one. (Who doesn’t have a rake??) There were some serious dead leaves, plants and whatever that needed to be pulled out. I naturally returned home with 3 sets of pruning shears (hey, I needed different sizes), TWO rakes (one for leaves and the other for ripping out tree trunks, if needed), two dozen pansies, some hyacinths and some white flowers whose name I forgot.
Got to work and within TWO HOURS, my back was killing me. It was at this point I asked myself why I spent the last 5 years doing Pilates, getting personal training and going to the gym EVERY SINGLE WEEKEND. Shouldn’t I be able to bend over for a few hours? Jeez.
I would have taken pictures of the devastation and havoc I wrought, but I was too weak to lift the camera.
Callum on the other hand, thought it was the greatest game very invented to dive into piles of leaves and dead stuff and toss it around like he was attempting to kill them. Within 10 minutes he was covered in Virginia red clay, because, you know, West Highland WHITE Terriers are bred to dig and troll for nasty things to roll in. (This is the dog that eats his own poop.) Again, I would have pictures, but see the statement above.
Anyway, that didn’t stop me for going back for more on Sunday and planting all my pansies and other flowers. Aren’t they pretty?
What you can’t see them? Well, I wonder why…Hmm, could it have been the SIX INCHES of snow Mother Nature dropped on us on MONDAY when the weather man swore we were only to get a few flakes?
My daffodills, already there from the previous owner, may never make an appearance again.
To top it off, Callum was scheduled to have his ‘nads nipped this morning. So, I drove 15 miles an hour during the heaviest snow falling via our back country roads to get him to the snipper in time. (Do you know it takes all of 5 minutes for a dog to go from a stud to a gelding?) We got him back just as the snow stopped.
He may never speak to us again.
He’s totally stoned here, probably thinking the cone of shame is some cosmic mind funnel. Or maybe he’s dreaming of the pansies he might rip up in retribution once he’s released from the cosmic cone.
I noticed he won’t look me in the eye. Maybe it’s a good thing everything is covered with snow. It can be like an ice pack on his nether region. And, he can’t find the pansies. But, then again, we may never see those again anyway.