Revelation

ONE 

This week has been . . . telling, eye-opening, has had an air of finality. I'm still processing the biggest news of the week and am not ready to speak on it with any sense of , clarity, I guess. But, speak of it, I will. Trust.

In the meantime, know that the new Brin has a name, her own name.  Before, getting into that, allow me to reveal that I'm betwixt and between whether I'm more turned on by piano players or guitarists. This weekend it has been an equal measure of  . . .  heat.

Back to my the new Brin's back and forth re: her name. Considered and tossed were:  >Stella as in the one who got her groove back, Millie as in the thoroughly modern,  Alicia as in Keys, Bonnie as in Raitt, Sharon as in Isbin . . .    and many others, the common thread? Music or something musical, on that are in sync.

Finally, we got down to one caveat, she didn't want a name made famous by someone else, she wanted to forge her own path, so to speak. Given the givens, we then narrowed possible names down to two:

Harmony and
Melody
A coin toss later and the winner (insert arpeggio) is:  M*E*L*O*D*Y

 . . . tune, air, or theme composed of tones arranged in a pleasing succession

*the sketch is the result of spending a good chunk of the weekend trying to tame the jungle we call a yard. The rains created a condition that was bordering . . . well, let's just say, thankfully, the temps were pleasant enough and the rain held off long enough to get some growth trimmed way the heck back.

End of Season

Someone in my building or someone (at the very least) with access to the front hall of the building sliced down more than half of the sunflower stalk growing, flourishing out in the front yard. I'd left my pruning shears sitting on one of the tables (holding my indoor plants) planning to use them at some point during the week to touch up some of the shrubbery following some aggressive growth following all the rain we've had. 

My usual practice is to put all the yard tools away in one of the various storage nooks that populate the first floor of the condo building. But since I was planning to do some (light) weekday work, I'd left the shears at an easier access point. I'm trying not to take as a coincidence that the chopping down occurred during or just after  Moe, Larry, and Curly of twenty-first century plumbing were in the space to replace a blown water heater. THAT, is another tale. 

To say that I'm incensed over the incident is putting it mildly. I'd said a few of these: 

upon leaving for work Friday morning and seeing the mutilation of my stately sunflowers.

Our small, nine unit condo building is self managed. I get a break on my assessments for caring for the common areas; sweeping, mopping, wiping down the halls and caring for the grounds. I shovel snow and clear ice in the winter, care for the yard , and keep the rear court-yard clean.

I tend to every plant and shrub (most of which I purchased out of my own funds) weeding, watering, and pruning as needed. I never maintained a yard before moving into this building. I've been an apartment dweller (mostly surrounded by concrete or yards "hands off" to tenants) my entire life. This little patch of earth was a new, exciting experience for me. I work diligently to clear trash, reset stepping stones, eradicate weeds (and mushrooms) and generally keep the area as appealing as possible given the limitations of time and budget.

For someone to rudely attack my work, my investment is beyond mean and it makes me want to

SCREAM

 I did scream. Ask Neta, she'd called early Friday morning as I was leaving for work. I walked outside, saw the mutilation and . . . yeah, WTF'D all over the place. 

I'm better now, though. It is September and soon the thoughts will turn to preparing the ground for winter, planning for next year, buying and burying bulbs. And yes, marking the spot of the current sunflower yield and devising a plan, for electrocuting anyone who touches protecting them, as well as, other yields from the savagery of neighbors? or their kids, or the friends of their kids. 

In the meantime I will enjoy what is left of  the summer, left of the various colors of our my yard. 

Ok to eat, but otherwise, ICK

I can't begin to tell you what seeing a clump of mushrooms popping up out of the earth does to my skin. Even now, I can't even look at this picture without feeling the creepy crawlies all over my body. It doesn't take much, especially these days, to send me into a cat scratch fever meltdown and clumps of mushrooms are just the ticket to send me over the edge. 

And wouldn't you know it 'shrooms had popped up all over the neighborhood and seemed to be everywhere I turned this weekend. Even in my own yard slash wannabe garden, which had to be eradicated immediately in spite of the squeamishness. 

As a young girl I remember . . . 

sorry, this post cut short by the ick factor.    

**image located here**  

Garden Weary

My garden kicks ass alright. Mine! Up and down the block. I had such medium hopes for this year, what with the apathetic co-owners and their miserly contributions, I couldn’t expect much on my very meager, limited budget of time and money. But, hopes I had albeit, medium.

But even those not overly lofty hopes, dashed.

Motivation daunted by the loss to two big ‘o trees. Progress stunted by construction crews trampling and crushing most everything in sight. Three hostas gave their lives (probably) for new sewers, the cool grooved alley and the new (hopefully not retail) space next door being prettied for possible leasing.

It’s sad, so sad, it’s a sad, sad situation and it’s getting more and more absurd.

Oh, alright maybe it’s not that dramatic. But, it is sad (and pretty bad). But it is fall or rather, Autumn and it is time to clear, clean and get ready for Spring.

And so now that is my mission as I've decided to accept it, again. I shall clear the weeds and over grown foliage. I shall find some hearty, full sun variety of bulbs to plant. I shall plant them. I shall protect them over what may not be a harsh winter, but winter, none-the-less. I shall prepare for Spring, with colors bursting all over. Well, maybe not all over--the budget is still limited.

Thinking Spring.