The little "tunnel" carved out of that part of the yard has almost closed into an impenetrable forest, worthy of a secluded hideaway, and will require the attentions of the hedge-clippers as soon as we can get in there. We lost some things to such late frost, but most of the yard is threatening to just over-run us like kudzu. This will be pretty when it's all snipped into shape, and perhaps I can unearth the little matching table from the garage wilderness soon, for it makes a lovely little picture.
The honeysuckle trees have done themselves proud, and it's a good thing I got this picture the other late afternoon, because the incessant rain has left a golden carpet of little blossoms all over the yard and sidewalks and drive.
On Mothers' Day, they took us out to our favorite Mexican place for a fun dinner, and then we all came back here just as the sun got low over the lawn. Caro put a pan of chocolate-with-pink-white-chocolate cookies into the oven upstairs, and we all sat in the newly-Springed sitting room as the light grew golden through the sheers.
The little floral lamps were an Easter gift from Caro, as were the candlestick several years ago; the lamps are not lit because I keep forgetting to get 40-watt bulbs. By the time I'm up there, make a mental note to put them on the list, and get back down here, the thought has just vanished. I just this minute went and wrote 40-WATTERS!! on the fridge pad.
The old mirror is also Caro's---she has quite a few of the lovely old things scattered about the house, and the rose is my Easter Rose from Chris---still hanging in there, and with a tiny pink offshoot and bud sprouting newly from the stem. Don't you just marvel at the tenacity of LIFE, just keeping on with business, despite the circumstances?
One of my gifts from Caro, Sweetpea, and DDIL---we're all Harris fans, and these newer series are lighter than her usual books---Caro, Chris and I are reading and swapping and trying to keep each series in order as we go.
The Teagardens are Small-Town-Librarian who belongs to a Murder Book Club---rather popcornish and frothy, and the Shakespeares are small-town Arkansas independent Cleaning Lady with great inner strength and Jessica Fletcher's knack of stumbling upon a body, just in passing.
This is almost my 700th post since I started this blog in November, 2008, and I do apologize for my slack attention to it for some time. Almost everything I've posted in the past couple of months has been culled from the reams of pages in boxes, from old writing and old thoughts, or from the same that I'd set down in WORD documents, to prink up a bit for later use.
My mind is so occupied with so many things and so much STUFF and nothing that it has the constant feel of that hazy cop-show thumbprint on the faces-of-the-innocent, and my house looks like what my Mammaw called "Who'd a thought it?"
So much to do, so much putting-off, so much undone. Perhaps the tonic of Green will help. I hope so.
And I hope you GREEN and sunshine, as well.