Painting our house - second part

June 06—the Marigold yellow front door was painted just right before the painters gave it a quits for the day... 

It wasn’t even 2:30pm yet, when I brought out a tray of watermelon, coffee served in demitasse cups and some ginger cookies for them to enjoy… right on time, because I had no idea they were almost getting already for parting, after a hard day of work...   

From inside the house I could hear their happy laughter and enjoyment as they rested and ate what I'd brought them.  Then, in a matter of minutes one by one got into their vehicles and disappeared down the road to their own little lives… I don’t know why, I felt sentimental right there and then, as if a great loneliness had invaded me all of a sudden; for I was already missing hearing all the hubbub and laughs going on outside all day long as they worked.

I thought of mom, and of how I miss her, I thought of dad, and of how terribly lost and lonely he must feel without her, and for a fraction of time I too thought of all the lonely people in the world and how heavy God’s heart must feel suffering the entire world upon His compassionate shoulders. 

I don’t know what my Marigold yellow door had to do with any of that, but those were my thoughts right there and then.  I was not supposed to close the freshly painted door for another two more hours, so for a long while I sat at the doorstep and stayed there… deep in thoughts as I reflected on life, and on my many blessings, and on why God let my child-like faith and trust in Him be shattered into million pieces that very morning by the gigantic Rottweiler that escaping his domains came upon me while jogging... I could still feel the massive head pushing against my thigh.  And I was so sure God was right by my side... 

June 07—by 7:30am, I was already ready to go out for my morning jog, but first, I wanted to see how my little world looked outside my Marigold yellow door and, to welcome the new morning as best I know—by inhaling it through my senses so I could keep it tucked in my soul throughout my entire day.  When I went outside, Santos and Raymond had just arrived, and were ready to tackle the top parts of the house before the sweltering sun of June started warming up the land.

Yesterday after the painters left, I went to examine the back of the house, and what a pleasant little surprise I found there!  On Monday, I’d brought home with me the cutest, but old and wobbly little iron table from our local thrift store.  My plan was to get it fixed and then paint it the same Marigold yellow color as our front door, so I could put it outside with some flowerpots.  The only setback was, I didn’t know how to fix the wobbly problem thing.  

I happened to mention that to the painters one morning, and now my little table had been fixed, and it was looking marvelously firm and beautiful in her new life.   

You see, at some point during the day, one of the painters, a gentle Mexican man by the name of Mr. Torres had it fixed it for me without me knowing it. I guess, in appreciation for my kindness and all the goodies I offered them?  And I didn't even had the chance to thank him properly, because his job was done, and I never got to see him again.  How sad I felt.  

Today, only two of the six painters came in to finish up whatever was left from yesterday, and the house, including its premises, felt soundless and emptied.  

I almost wished I were the Alicia from the Grand Hotel TV series; that girl who lived in an early 20th century aristocratic hotel with her family during the reign of King Alfonso XIII, and whose life was all about the mysteries that involved her family and the hotel servants, always busy, always bursting with people and interesting happenings.

Can you tell I’m feeling kind of lonely these days?  I truly, most truly enjoy my little life away from the office, but there are times when I need ‘people’… need to feel their nearness hear them talk, laugh, know I’m alive.  I’m a case I guess.

The backyard is a total disarray of broken branches and stomped on plants.  But what can I say?  I should have expected that to happen, being already June and all the plants in full growth.  But that’s how long it took me to find the proper guys to work on our home.  Six whole months!  And I’m so glad it all happened the way it happened.  Because, I got to meet some very wonderful hardworking people, upon whose souls I am placing all of God’s goodness, and blessings, for them and for their families.  

The job is not finished yet.  Santos and his guys will be here again early tomorrow morning to finish things up and take care of all last details.  Then, he will hose down the front porch and even help me put the furnishing back there, he said.  Then, I can finally show you around!

I can hardly wait to see everything cleaned and freshly painted. I don’t have enough hours in my day to enjoy all the little things as much as I want.  Everything is so precious, and I’m so fortunate God thought of me in His divine plan of creation and salvation.  “O Lord, who lends me life, lend me a heart replete with thankfulness” (William Shakespear).

Painting the exterior of our house...

June 4—on this beautiful sunny summer day, I started my day with a sense of heaven.  Blue, clear skies welcomed me to the new day, and by eight sharp the painters arrived.  I went out for my daily morning run and when I came back I was surprised to find them still there.  For some reason, I had this idea that I was not going to find them there upon my return, but they were already taping off windows and filling holes and such.  What a relieve!  We’re finally painting our home!

Later, I went out to do some errands while the painters worked on the house, then decided to stop at Lowes.  My beautiful Savannah rose had to be returned.  The poor thing had never prospered.  From the very first day I planted it, it started dying away.  This had never happened to me before, not even in my very firsts years of gardening.  I blame myself for not having watered the plant enough, right after it was planted, or maybe for not having make a deeper hole, or maybe it was the ants?  There’s a colony of them living right in front of where I’d planted this rose.  Whatever the reason may be, it died, and I didn’t want to wait a day longer waiting to see if it was going to get better.  I’m done with that. 

I didn’t see a specific rose that I liked for that space at Lowes, so instead of buying whatever they had out there, I bought a lovely Sweet William in deep brilliant red.  

I also came home with a new plant—a Kangaroo Paws plant.  That’s the name.  I felt in love with it from the very first time I saw it.  Like a lover I kept thinking about it, and I think I might had even dreamed about it… or maybe was it only those very first illusive thoughts right after waking up when you can’t tell if you were dreaming or just thinking or remembering something?  The thing is, I had to get it!  And thus, I did.  I already had the pot.  A beautiful ceramic pot for which I didn’t had a plant.  Perfect!  Just perfect!

My house in going to be bursting with potted plants this winter.  I am already considering this, for I already had so many of them last winter.  Now, I have doubled that amount, with all the new geraniums I have planted this spring. 

By mid-day a couldn’t see a single thing outside.  It was like being shut-in in some quiet cocoon of sorts… It was the painters putting painter’s plastic in every window.  It felt cozy, but somewhat claustrophobic.

At 3:00 I made a coladita (Cuban coffee because three of them painters are cubans) and called the guys in for a break. Coffee, cookies, cold bottled water and coke, in case some of them wanted some. 

June 5—the real job has started!  The ‘real’ painting day has come, the first dabs of paint have been dispensed, and now the front of the house is almost done.  This is going fast, the guys have been working since 8:00 this morning, and I’m loving every corner, every column every trim in the new colors!   I’ve been feeding these guys two or three times a day... watermelon, fruits, bread, coke, juices, cold water, cookies, and they are loving all this attention.  I don't have to do this, but I do.  They deserve it all—working so hard under the scorching sun so I can be happy! 

While the workers painted outside I decided to paint inside.  And thus, this plain Jane terracotta pot got a new look with acrylic paint.

I’m not an artist, and I’m very sloppy, but ideas are plenty, and this is what I came up with… something to match the overall décor of the house.  I’m loving it!

June 6—the first painters came quite early this morning, I saw them heading down the road as I was already out there jogging.  They waived and continued on towards the house.  This is going fast.  The preparation of the house, is what really takes more time.  Spraying is something of a second nature to these guys.  And everything is looking magnificent, all the columns already gleaming in extra white, just as I had envisioned.  People around here don’t go for that, and I cannot understand why.  They paint their houses in one or two colors, but the columns and garage doors are always painted in that same color of the body.  No contrast, no difference.  Not to mentioned those boring front doors.  Is, as if people don’t have eyes to fathom beauty ahead of time, or before things are done.  I’ve already foreseen my house just the way I wanted it long time ago.   And every corner and every color chosen perfect.

They will be working on the highest parts of the house today, including trims and front door.  Is 9:44am, and I have already feed them on coffee and croissants.  They are so appreciative.  And so am I. 

The gypsies of the North

Camping is so different here than camping in the south… those hot-hot-super-hot and humid camping summer days are over—so here we are now... camping on the top of the world!

This time, we chose a campground at an elevation of 3,900 feet on the south fork of a wild, icy river… in a place where it is always cold at all hours, where deers and bears roam the land as freely as they can be, and travelers only pass by on the way to somewhere else.

A place where fishermen are willing to lose their soul for a trout or two! 

For hours and hours waiting for the fish to bite… while I play... "or wait for wind to fly a kite. Or wait around for Friday night or wait perhaps for our Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone is just waiting.” (Dr. Seuss)

If you want to live the gypsy life, then this is it.  No toilets no shower no electricity no computer no Ipod no phone!  You just do with what you have and what you don’t have.  You sit and listen to the wind tell stories, you put your feet in frigid river waters and wait until you think you are a mermaid of some undefinable realm.  You dream, you play, you hear the songs of the wild, and fancy yourself walking in the world of pixies and hobgoblins.  You walk under purple glowing sky, you eat potatoes you eat whatever you can find, and then, at night, you cuddle under warm blankets and snuggle tightly by that dear funny lover of all your life, as if tomorrow will never come… then you go to sleep believing everything will exceed the previous day... comes the following morning. 

...but of course, this is just me, or better yet, how I see the world, because in reality things could be very different when you're camping in places like that… I will spare you the incommodities, the cold, the dirt… and oh, the deer ticks!  Oh god oh god oh god--panic!  Yes, I almost went into a panic mode when we got home and the Fisherman confessed he had brought home with him one of those nasty little things on one of his legs!  Never in a life time I'd ever imagined something like that, although it can very well be something common, if you don’t take precautions.  Now I'm not too sure if I want to go back to our gypsy life again...  I'm terrified by ticks and Lyme disease!

Oh well, what can I say!  “In a well-ordered universe... camping would take place indoors.”  (Morgan Matson, Since You've Been Gone).

  

Life at that old house in the roses

May 31—on the last day of May the painters gave our house a pressure wash—everything got dusted off and cleaned.  Dirt, grime, insect nests, leaves, and big gunk were knocked down.  Then, it rained all day. 

I went to our local Goodwill and found this cute little fountain.  When the painting job is done it will go in the back porch among all my potted plants, or maybe I should put it on the front porch and entertain the passing world to the soothing sound of water?… but for now, it sits on top of the little orange dresser in my gypsy room.  It looks so cute there!

Withered roses look so pretty… I should had left them be for a little longer, but the room had that particular smell typical of old cemeteries from old forgotten villages in some remote Spanish countries… and, I liked it… I do like it, and I should have let the beauty of lifeless roses embellish the room a little longer, after all, their musty scent perfected the soothing sound of water from the small fountain, but I thought the room needed be more organic, or naturalistic for that purpose; like bursting with potted plants, tall plants such as Kentia palms and Philodendrons, and a few hanging baskets like a little oasis of sorts with the scent of old cemeteries lingering on... And thus, I tossed the dried flowers, unplugged the little fountain and left the room. 

Yesterday, everything in the back porch had to be moved onto the garden, away from walls. And furniture and flowerpots in the front porch are now sitting in the living room. We're all excitedly waiting for the painting job to start... but this disarray of things makes me feel a little edgy and I get a little anxious for order to return and for the normality of things again… but all is worth it.    

I was looking at some pictures of exactly one year ago today… to see how life was unfolding back then at the little white cottage… and oh, the pond—my soul hovered over that pond; my wings flapped above the Crepe Myrtles and Butterfly bushes (Buddleia davidii). How lovely, how sunny and flowery and lush and very lovely everything looked, and how my heart wishes for a pond here at this old house in the roses.

I think of mom constantly.  I miss her terribly.  But there are days that are worse than others, and I'd think of her the entire day, and cry for anything, and my little heart is soft under this great nostalgia.  I don’t know why this happens, or why my heart would seek her out so profoundly on certain days more than others.  The beginning of this week it was like that…  and then the entire week.   She lives forever in my broken heart that doesn’t seal back up... I guess I'm still mourning.   

Do people still read blogs anymore? I read a comment the other day where someone was asking that question; favoring Instagram over blogging. It got me thinking. Yes, blogging has certainly changed a lot from what it used to be ten years ago when I started blogging, but then again people who enjoy reading will always read blogs.  I certainly choose blogs over Instagram, which I think is the plateau for a very different generation than mine… so I guess I'll keep blogging, and hope you'll continue coming by to share my little life!  It is so rewarding.

The painters didn’t come by today.  They won’t come tomorrow, neither the following day.  They asked if they could start on Monday instead.  Of course, I was expecting something like that to happen.  Such a good deal, was too good to be perfect!