Some Color, Please!

 I have this herb garden window in my kitchen, which you would think would be a great way to keep fresh herbs for my cooking. But, the North Carolina sun tends to bake everything, especially in summer, so all the herbs I've tried to cultivate have shriveled up and died within days of being put in the window. Not wanting to throw my money away on a lost cause, I've let the window languish for months. The only thing I could think of that would handle the harsh rays would be cacti, and I'm firmly of the opinion that, if a plant doesn't produce blossoms, it's not something I want to spend time with. That eliminated cacti, for the most part. 

So, it was with some trepidation that I picked up a bag of crocus bulbs a month ago. I planted some of them in the herb garden planter and then threw the rest of them into the ground–no mean feat, since the ground was fairly frozen. When the bulbs in the window began to sprout, I was thrilled. I finally had found something that would give me some color in my kitchen. 

A few days ago, it hit the mid-60s here, and I was delighted to see the bulbs I had tossed outside had bloomed as well. A little color is a good thing, whether it's in my window, my yard, or my books. 

A Shot of Good News

The past couple of weeks have been even harder than normal. It seemed every day brought another dose of bad news from a family member or a friend. It's been hard to focus and I found myself wishing for one day where the only news was good. 

It didn't happen all in one day, but this past week did bring a glimmer of light in the midst of all this darkness. First, the refinance I'd been working on since December finally came to a conclusion and I signed the final paperwork which would give me the lowest interest rate on my mortgage that I've ever had on any home I've owned. And then, a few days later, I got my first Covid shot. In three short weeks, I'll get the second dose, and then, I'll be free to hit the road and see how my Mini-Cooper handles on a long trip. And, I'm no longer living in Texas, so there's that. 

Can't wait. 

Eulogy for Mary

 This has been a sad week for me. My little dog and faithful companion, Mary, had to be put down at the beginning of the week. It's been lonely in this house without her. In the past year, with the pandemic keeping us all quarantined, she was the only one I had daily contact with. And the only one I could hug and kiss on. 

She was not always the easiest to get along with, but that was because she had not had a normal childhood. Every author knows backstory is what makes an individual who she is, and Mary's was unique. Her first five years were spent in a 3 x 3 foot cage, where she was bred time and again. Fortunately for her, the horrible puppy mill decided she was past her prime and put her up for auction, where she was rescued by a faith-based organization who christened her Mary and spent five months getting her adjusted to normal doggie behavior. Even with all their good training, I still had to keep her on a lead for over a year, in order to get close enough to her to pick her up. She didn't understand stairs, or grass, or someone wanting to pick her up just to cuddle. If she'd been my first-ever dog, I would have given up. But Mary had a big heart in that little body and I knew I could get to it somehow.

I had a big enclosed backyard, into which I put Mary when she first arrived. Rather than relish the open spaces, she moved around the yard in 3 foot circles. The circles gradually got larger, but she didn't learn to run until I took her to my sister's home, where her dog, Harry, showed Mary how to dash across the yard. Seeing her run full-out with Harry brought tears to my eyes. They were a good team, Harry and Mary, and she missed her buddy when he passed. She's with him now, and running free again, I'm sure. 

Mary started slowing down this past year, and took to camping out at my feet, on my blanket. She didn't necessarily want to be held, since she still had trouble with people grabbing her even after nine years with me, but she wanted to be close. Her greatest enjoyment this past summer was being able to sit on the porch swing with me and make fun of the golfers as they zipped by in their tiny carts. 

I'm grateful she's no longer in pain, but I already miss her so much it hurts. I'll pack away her toys and beds a little at a time, and maybe next summer, I'll give them to the Humane Society. Right now, though, they're little reminders of her. I'll bury her ashes near the porch swing, so she can still enjoy that with me. 

RIP, Sweet Mary

Close Enough to Nature

 I'm about to celebrate my third anniversary in my North Carolina home. I enjoy watching to golfers whiz by my back door in their golf carts as they chase little white balls (or pink ones, if it's Monday morning when the ladies have their outing). And, occasionally, I get a chance to see more than golfers from my window, as witnessed here, when a young buck came calling. 

The other morning, though, I was startled to see an animal run by my back door. From the corner of my eye, I only saw a leg as it scarred by my back door. I jumped up, writing forgotten, to see what kind of critter had come so close. Loping across the field was a beautiful red fox! Since the community I live in is called Foxfire, it should not have come as a surprise, but this was the first one I'd encountered. And having a door between us was just fine by me. 

Now, I just have to figure out how to use the fox encounter, such as it was, in my writing. A good friend of mine lives in the mountains and has black bear visitors to her breezeway all the time in the spring and summer. I'll be content with the occasional fox, I think. 

So, what inspires you?