Jan 10, 2013 |
Dear Mom,
You know I love you. You know, next to my daughter, you’re the most important person to me on this earth. I love that we are Three Generations of Desert Women: strong, durable. Louis L’Amour would be the first to praise your character. How tough you are, how strong and resourceful and faithful and determined. You are our rock, our foundation, our example. You’ve taught us how to forge our way through instead of turning back to the comfort of mediocrity.
And I want to be just like you when I grow up. And I want to be you for my daughter.
The other day, two lovely old ladies came into the office. Let’s call them Beatrice and Victoria. They were wonderful. I watched them drive up in an older but well-cared for vehicle. The driver carefully stepped out and helped the other from the passenger seat. They slowly, gently walked up to the sidewalk and stepped into the office, laughing at how age has slowed their bodies but not their minds.
I knew instantly they were special. They were friends, good friends. Perhaps the best. They might even have been sisters; they looked similar and age had drawn them more alike in later years. Their crows’ feet were in the same place, their lips crinkled in the same way.
Victoria, the younger of the two, helped Beatrice into a chair then sat in the one next to her. They introduced themselves and it was then I realized Beatrice was the 92-year-old mother to 75-year-old Victoria.
They needed changes to their insurance policy. But they didn’t want one to incur the loss of discount by making the change. I offered several compromises, and as they sat at my desk discussing their options I could only think, “I want to be them.”
These wonderful women finished each others’ sentences. They smiled and laughed at conversations only they were aware of. And in the few minutes they were in my presence, I was enthralled with the closeness they exhibited. Their friendship, their care, and their attitude toward the world. These are two women who made it through many hard times, and didn’t let it get them down. These are two women who clung together and still manage to laugh at life.
Promise me, in another 40 years or so, we’ll still be just like them. Promise me we’ll laugh at these hard times, learn our lessons, and laugh out loud. A lot.
Promise me, when I’m older then than you are now, that we’ll still be best friends. And walk into someone’s office and make them smile.
And want to be just like us.
With much love, hugs, and laughter,
Your loving daughter,
~Me
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Nov 8, 2012 |
Monday it was over 80 degrees and sunny.
Tomorrow night, we’re expecting our first snowfall of the year.
And this is how I know it’ll happen: my left ankle is a barometric indicator. 24 hours before the first snowflake hits the ground, I limp like a gazelle on hot coals.
On my way home from work tonight (boy! That’s fun to say after a year and a half! Let’s say it again!) On my way home from work tonight, Leftie made a statement. A strong statement. And she’s starting to scream.
Welcome to Winter in the Desert.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Sep 2, 2012
When I first bought Bedford Manor, there were three trees in the front yard.
Before I moved in
Before moving in, I had the overgrown Juniper shrubs, Lily garden and miscellaneous items removed. The Fruitless Mulberry closest to the driveway grew so quickly, there were times driving into the garage felt like a trip on Disneyland’s Jungle Cruise. We made the decision last year to have it cut down [you can read about it here].
That resulted in the stump that I surrounded with scalloped brick and tried to utilize as a flower garden.
Stump Garden
Unfortunately, Southern California just went through one of the hottest heatwaves we’ve had in years. Which means that my potted flowers, the seeded flowers, and anything else that was supposed to grow, didn’t.
And in a hilarious turn of events, the tree stump began to reflourish. Even after two summer haircuts.
It Doesn’t Know It’s Dead.
Two days ago I decided it was time to stop playing pretend, and I made some drastic changes to the yard. First, I moved the scalloped brick to the side of the house. Then I cut all the new growth emitting from the stump.
I now have a stump. Not a garden. Not a pretend garden. Not a hedged-in dirt plot. A stump. It still needs a little more care to finish (drilling and salting). But thankfully it will cease to overrun my happy home.
Stump Growth
And I’m actually okay with that. Without the brick and the overgrowth, my yard is actually starting to look more like a yard again.
I’m so ready for Spring planting. My Italian Desert designs will come to life. I’m thankful that I have fall and winter to prepare the yard.
So much to do, so little time.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Aug 31, 2012 |
I am so excited. So very excited!
I just discovered that Pergolas originated in Italy. Pergolas with their draping grapevines and tiny lights and patio dining and ambient music. Can’t you just feel the breeze wafting the aroma of a great Merlot in your direction?
And I just discovered that Italy actually has a desert. Deserto di Accona. An arid, white, sandy desert.
Do you have any idea what this means?
It is so very possible for me to combine my love of Italy with my reality of the desert, and make it work! Pergolas, herbs, rockscaping, cacti, skyrockets, and shrubs.
Of course, this opens up so many new wonderful ideas, that I just had to create a new Pinterest Board for it! I’m so thankful to have an immediate place to secure photos of inspiring ideas.
How do you landscape, and where do you get your inspiration from?
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
You may also enjoy reading:
Another Post About Pinterest.
Aug 10, 2012 |
Waiting for Rain
In the midst of this heatwave,
My cats are drinking ice water
And I’m keeping all windows and blinds closed.
It makes it darker. It makes it cozier.
And it makes it almost okay to listen to
What I call “Autumn” music:
Those tunes by Diana Krall and Harry Connick, Jr.
That bring to mind Autumn in New York
Crisp leaves, caramel apples, and Central Park.
In the midst of this heatwave,
Dot is far away
Camping in the Sierras
And sending daily reports
of amazing photos and adventures
That don’t involve heat stroke.
In the midst of this heatwave,
The house is still getting clean
and organized
But not as fast as I’d like.
I’m watching more television
than usual
and I’m now caught up
on the junk they call “news”.
My checkbook is balanced
but the paperwork is scattered
And I think I’ll get more done
at midnight
when it finally cools down
to a balmy 85 degrees
But that is finally when
the cats and I
decide
to fall asleep
And dream
of cooler days.
First Morning
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
