Homecoming, Redux

Revisiting being grateful for coming home today, for different reasons. Home is good. Home is "in here" instead of "out there." Home is where everybody is always on your side. That hasn't always been the case in my life, but it is now. And that' s a whole lot for which to be grateful.

Homecomings

Today (well, everyday, really) I am grateful for my dog, Mojo, and in particular for the humongous party he throws every time I come home. No matter where I've been or how long I've been gone, my return is cause for joyous celebration.

He barks, he whines, he waggles his head back and forth. He throws his whole self into the air and spins like a top. He races around the house. He is the very essence of exuberance. The party ends only after I have hugged him and petted him and allowed both my hands to be washed. Thoroughly. He's not sure where I go each day, but he's pretty sure I'm getting my hands all icky out there. He takes his clean-up job very seriously.

It is, quite frankly, marvelous. No matter how crappy the work day or the weather, no matter how tired I am or how achy I might be, how could I not love coming home to that?

And, really, look at that face. How could you not love that?

Saturday

Saturday mornings are almost as good as Sunday mornings. There's a little more bustle from the neighbors and a little more traffic...but Mojo and I are still the only ones awake at our house (the joys of 20-year old house guests!) and have time to experience the morning hours in the garden the way we don't when I have to head to work.

For instance, 8 o'clock-ish is a good time to examine the Mexican Petunia. It's a slow waker in the morning...and it goes to bed pretty early. But at 8 AM all its flowers are open and it's quite stunning. My sister tells me that two or three of these made a massive hedge at her former Florida abode. I've no idea how big it will get here (in Clearwater they make hedges out of hibiscus and I am jealous every time I think about that) but even smallish, I think it's striking.

Also, we have a new friend in the garden. I admit it. I have a weakness for funky animals scattered about. Also for chickens and tall skinny birds. Yesterday, my mama gave me this perfectly perfect tall, skinny chicken. His name might be Roger...but maybe not. It's early yet. Watch for him in new places, too, because I also like to rearrange things.

New Things

This has been a month for trying new things. In addition to the vegetable garden (which is revisiting an old but good thing), I am growing herbs. I am excited about roasting chickens seasoned with my own rosemary and thyme. I am looking forward to bolognese made with the oregano I am growing (and that smells just like Nana, really). Also, I made pesto.

I grew the basil and then I harvested the basil and then I turned it into pesto. All by myself. With email help from Lisa, of course, but she's in the Bronx..not here...and I think that qualifies as mostly by myself. I was smart enough to email her before I started, and I thought of that myself. Or, as Britt used to say, bymyownself.

This is the bowl of basil leaves, after the harvest:
And this is the finished product...yum!


This is the basil plant (sharing its pot with the parsley), after the harvest. Also, after I moved it out of reach of the encroaching cucumber plant.

It's The Little Things

This looks like a mess. What it is is a victory. This story began two years ago when I first moved into this house and could not, after two weeks of searching, locate an outdoor water spigot. I finally stopped looking. About a week later, the crew I'd hired to clear the yard (which looked like it hadn't been touched in many many years) showed up and got to work. At the end of the day, they tamed the hundred year-old azaleas, uncovered two gorgeous hydrangeas, and found a small water spigot in the middle of the grass, just to the right of the back porch. On the other side of the fence. So, I bought a really long hose and that storage box to roll it up in...and mostly didn't use it.

Boo came to stay and we built a bigger fence and the hose was even more inaccessible and I didn't care. Until now. Because, really, you cannot garden without water. Even in southeast Georgia, where the rainy season is sensible enough to coincide with the growing season, there are going to be times when the rain does not come on the garden's schedule. And so I began searching for a solution. I've been haunting garden stores and hardware stores - both big box and local - for over a month. And, finally, during a lunch-hour trip to Home Depot, I stumbled across a box marked "Hose Holders - with and without faucets."

I'm sure the man at the Depot thought I was deranged, but I made him unpack it right in the middle of the aisle and I squealed with glee when he pulled out the Hose Holder With a Faucet. And I swear I heard Britt whisper 'Yessss!' And then, after work, I brought it home and insisted that we set it up before dinner. There's a 15-foot connector hose that runs through a crack in the fence (yes, I did break the newish fence and I don't care) to a feeder hole on the back of the holder. And another, small connecter from the faucet to the storage box. And I can turn that pretty blue handle and there is water in the backyard.

Yes.