Thursday, April 5, 2018

Gypsy and her Fisherman

March 31—the gypsy Fisherman decided it was time to flung open the gypsy caravan and go explore the world again.

“Oh, but it still is so cold for camping!” “But how could you possibly be cold?” “No, it is not possible.” “But I am!”.  And thus, we went to the dunes and camped there for a day and a half and two nights. And it was indeed cold and windy, but it was also so very glorious, and lovely, and the sun shone strong, as strong as chilly winds blew sands in the distance, and I watched the sun come over the sandbanks as half a dozen robins slept in nearby leafless bony trees, and with the kiss of dawn, the wee cries of baby coyotes in the hirsute sagebrush of the high desert...







We sipped heaps of vanilla caramel lattes from the comfort of our gypsy caravan and munched on grapes, corn chip and creamy cheese sauce.  The Fisherman surprised me by packing my softest, warmest pjs ever, and an extra-large extra fluffy extra warm blanket in my favorite color, and it felt like a soft, warm sheep on my skin, and he made sure that the heater was on all night and that my feet were warm, and I loved it all, and thank him, as usual, for compelling me to come out of my cave and do things to which I would always say ‘no’ to in the beginning, and always end up loving later… Because, that’s just the way I am.  And he knows me. 









There was a huge birdhouse on the tree just above by where our gypsy caravan slept, and I prayed for an owl to visit, because this is their habitat and all mated pairs are permanent residents of their territory, and one such pair calls these dunes home.  But I never saw one.


We rode our bicycles on sandy desert paths, the Fisherman put on his waddling fishing boots and went out to the marshes while I collected rocks, we cooked a meal or two, ate pineapple, rice pudding and lentil soup. The downing sun was a fire ball outside the gypsy caravan on the West—big and bright and dying gold at 7:30pm.  We read our books until daylight turned into evening, and the voices of the desert muffled out into the hunting songs of night, we said our prayers and reflected on Jesus dying on the cross—oh holy moment that holy Friday, eternities ago. 






 


 


On Saturday night all winds got loose.  The wilderness shrieked under its ferocity, things were tossed around, sand swirled and dance frenetically and our gypsy caravan felt like a kite in the wind, being pushed from side to side by strong winds as our roofs creaked and doors were slammed.  It was a frightful little night, until everything calmed down, and only the sound of our heater going on and off remained... and we drifted off to sleep on the wings of desert nights...


The following morning, Sunday of Resurrection, the world woke up wrapped in glorious sunshine and quiet serenity… as if the new morning itself was reminding us that within every ending is the seed of a new beginning…




I love Nature and the quietness I find in its great emptiness.  To it I go when I want to find my soul... we are the ones with the messy hair, the dirty feet and the wild sparkle in our eyes…

Sunday, April 1, 2018

New carpet and a gardener's diary


March 27—Today, our living room carpet was finally installed!  


It arrived sooner than we’d expected, and this time I am in total admiration!  I love it so much!  


The transformation was instantly, and I was so accurate in believing that the floors play such a huge part when it comes to selecting carpet colors!  


A cleaner design, harmony with the surrounding, and I love the lines/streaks



The room is back to a neutral, gentler atmosphere.  Softer colors and a contemporary design have make such a great impact in the room!  I totally love it this time! 


March 27I started working on the front gardens this afternoon—how I loathed it.  Despair seizes me when I reflect upon my ideas of how and what I want to see in the gardens and its realization. I am feeling unpleasantly exhausted lately, and this part of the ‘abandoned’ garden is, I do believe, the worst of all, and it must be laughing at my weakness, for it was forcing me to pull and bend and pull more than this old body can stand.  I cannot understand any one preferring weeds to the purple coneflowers I had growing in that space before we left; those rough-hairy, herbaceous perennials native to moist prairies, meadows and open woods.  They are all gone now to a most ferocious of grasses that had taken over that space, and it had to be pulled out by hand and the sharp tips of pick and shovel.  I’m not even close to finishing my job there, and I’ve already filled several trash bins to the brim.  Tomorrow will be another day.


March 28—I worked on the front gardens again today, and the wind was worse than it had ever been.  My throat hurts my fingers are numbed.  But at least I was able to accomplish some of what I set out to do.  One or two small old bushes were removed, and the rose bush that had turned wild was cut to the ground; me not being able to remove it in its entirety.  Yes, another flowerbed has been cleaned up and it is now ready for mulch.


March 29—the end of another cold, unsympathetic month.  If it were not for the garden, leafless and flowerless as it is, March would had been another terrible month, but in the garden, there is always a sigh of relief, a place to dream, and hope, and a more profound peace.  Nobody raking or mowing the lawn or sweeping or fidgeting; although I’d have to say thought, I would much rather prefer the sounds of only the little birds themselves and the whispering of winds than all the awful barks of neighboring dogs that’s going on everywhere.  For it seems to me that more and more people these days are preferring animals to humans, and families are not happy enough with owning just one dog, but they must have two, and sometimes even three, and thus they are everywhere; the constant yapping and barking coming from all directions ending whatever little peace; plus the agony of working outside while having to compete with the insistence of the animal on the other side of the fence for your sacred space.  I’ve been much afflicted by this lately and my dislikes of them are better left unrecorded.


March 30There’s not a single day or hour of my days that I don’t think of my dear mother and whisper her name.  Tears fill my eyes and heart for her all the time; for all the memories kept in my soul and all the love, a love like no other love, for I will never be loved again that way ever again… There’s a particular song on one of my favorite CDs that I play every day.  And it takes me back to one of my first memories of mom—rocking me to sleep.  I remember her singing to me.  A song, a love song; not particularly a children song, but a love song between a man and a woman type of a love song, and although I cannot remember the exact words, or what they meant, my brain has kept the notion of it intact; and I can still remember my child thoughts of it, along with my own interpretation of the song—a sad song.  But its melody is still hunting my memories. I so miss her. 



PS:  New, forgotten old gypsy stories are now available for reading in our GYPSY CARAVAN BLOG, in case you want to hop there and read them!



Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Life...

03-23-18

Today the sun was out and although the extraordinary breezes of our high desert climate are always with us and against us, I was able to work outside... and thus, I spray painted some of the patio furniture, as well as many of my plants supports, trellises, obelisks and whatnots.  These are the ones that I already have supporting some of the ‘soon to grow’ roses and climbers.  Then, it will be all the flowerpots next.



I also worked on organizing the back porch. Nothing looks perfect there yet, and still, everything is looking as perfect as it had never been since we moved back.  I’m excited. 


The small tiled table and newly done pink chairs are sitting under the Virginia Creeper over on the side gardens on the gravel garden path.  The old full-length mirror sits across from it; leaning against the wall by where the climbing Don Juan rose is.  Rain, heat, snow and the pass of time have made a wrecked of that old mirror frame, and thus a new one must be built soon.  If only the Fisherman would find some free time out of his busy schedule to help me with this project!  But he won’t.  Not as soon as I’d like anyways.  





How I wish sometimes that Miss Mary Poppins would bring with her one day a special kind of a handyman for me—one that would be willing to put up with all my nonsenses, of course!  No fancy work here, just little things, little odd jobs here and there as I see the need, and projects that always pop up in my mind on a moment’s inspiration on inconvenient times... projects and odd jobs that no real handyman would ever wanted to do.  Silly, unimportant things I’ve been told! 

I am a strong woman in my strength, stronger than I look, and I can usually do all sorts of heavy work all on my own, but there are things that I just don’t know how to do.  I wish I’d be an electrician, a pond maker, a wood worker a trellis maker a rock lifter and a concrete expert.  What I won’t do in my garden then!  In the meantime, I'll sit and wait for the Fisherman to help, whenever he'll find the time! ;)


03-24-18

Today, I finished working on the little dried creek.  Three bags of smaller river rocks were enough to use as filler and cover the center.  


The big guardian angel statue that was sitting by the pond at the little white cottage, now sits at the head of little dried-creek.  That’s his place now.  I like him there.  This angel makes me think of the Ark of the Covenant of Exodus in the Bible, and of the Tabernacle, and of God living among us.  Yes, I like that thought.  I truly want to believe that God, dwells here. 


I should had planted all the irises only about and around the stones, but some of them I placed in the center where the river rocks are… I thought that would add some interest to the creek, like a more natural look perhaps, but maybe I might have to take them out later?  We just have to wait and see.


03-25-18

And it snowed again… it snowed practically all day today, with some sunshine in the late afternoon, around four.  



I sat by my computer and wrote.  From my bay-windows I could see all the neighborhood rooftops, and I watched, enchanted, at how the smoke drifted away from chimneys like some livid ghosts from beyond… like the souls of the houses leaving themselves, or the soul of the people who live in them…   

Today, I too noticed that birds have returned to the land.  It was almost a soiree of sorts, a great festivity, a joyful revelry in the aviary world.  I sat outside after the snow was gone just to listen.  And what a symphony I heard!  The first, true aviary symphony since we moved back here. 




3-26-18

Today I planted my first two roses. 

It must be spring, because the birds have woken up all at once.  So many songs the air carries in its wings, so many melodies to enchant my soul! 


Saturday, March 24, 2018

Cane-back chairs...

03-19-18

We’re painting the exterior of our house soon, and Gary, the guy who worked on our interior painting of the house this past fall is doing the job again.  Perhaps, I should had chosen someone else this time, but Gary gave me a 13% preferred customer discount, which means over $500 cutback in price.   He’s a complicated type of a guy indeed, but he did a good job—a very hard job done well, it definitely deserves a second chance, and thus I’m choosing him again. 


Deciding on the colors is the real difficult part here.  I know I want gray with super white trims and white columns, but choosing the right gray isn’t easy.  So many shades of gray to choose from!  And this time, there’s no ‘returning’ possible here!  So, I better make the right decision the first time! 



03-22-18 

It’s been raining on and off for the last three days this weeks.  A good downpour of life-giving, precious rain favored us today… rain that has softened and nourished the garden with new growth and new life.  And all those roses I just fertilized last week and supplied them with a high-quality compost-soil are loving it so much!  I can already see new shoots sprouting from scrawny branches, and the ground looks healthy and shiny, and thus, the garden is about to be waken real soon!     

Today, I finally bought the paint I needed to redo my $1.00 French cane-back chair.  


The options were endless.  There are so many possibilities when redoing chairs… colors, fabrics, materials!  However, the minute I saw this chair I knew exactly how I wanted her to look!  


With the help of some gold spray paint and some Pinterest inspiration, it looks like this now.  


For the sit, I used some upholstery fabric I already had. This thick, black fabric brings so many memories to mind.  Of the south, and of our life there.  I can still see in my mind that quaint little fabric store where I bought it from, the southern belle owner with all her fine jewelry and dark hair, and the black and white accent pillows I bought along with it that day.  This fabric was originally meant for our dining room chairs, but then I changed my mind and decided to go for something else, and thus, I never got to use it… until now.


Trying out different pillows!



I think I like this stripe one better!


I love the style of cane-back chairs. Open a copy of Country French magazine and you will most certainly find a dining set with this kind of chairs.  I only wish I should had gotten some more chairs.  There were all 6 of them all in perfect condition and each for only $1.00.  But I didn’t have a place to put them! So I didn't.

The mourning doves are surfing the air above the garden all day long.  A fluffy, extra white couple of them have moved in and soon will be making their nests on climbing roses.  I love to hear them cooing all day long. 



 I hope you are well, and ready for spring!

Love!