It's been harder and harder to sit my butt down and make updates in this here blog when summer is in full swing. I tend to find myself completely preoccupied with working in my garden, walking around my garden, sitting in a patch of grass and looking around my garden, and generally thinking about my garden. Yes, obsessive.
I definitely laugh at myself a lot though, especially when I just find myself sitting on my back steps staring out at the "great abyss" simply thinking. That's when I feel truly ridiculous. I could certainly be doing something better than thinking about the work I have to do on the yard, right?
Probably during one of those garden sessions I suddenly realized, my three-year anniversary of living in old blue had come and gone!
Wow, what a trip it's been.
I'm not so sure that certain things I consider "milestones" in my life as a homeowner would be considered such by others, but as I sat back and let myself reflect on the three years, I realized there has been a lot of significance in what has gone down these past three years.
Here's one way of looking at it:
One dead mouse in a shoe.
Two times tilling up the entire back yard.
Four grape plants, two raspberry bushes, three blueberry bushes, one hazelnut - all of which were given to me as gifts by friends or neighbors.
Thirty irises from my mother's garden in Missouri transplanted here.
Over a dozen pieces of art made by friends or local artists hanging on my walls.
Five coats of blue-green paint in the guest room.
One Halloween party attended by a troupe of six super-hero vegetables (including me as Super Beet).
Two occurrences of potential-but-not-quite-boyfriends breaking up with me in the middle of the night and walking their sorry asses home as I looked from my front door, sadly. (Yuck, going through this once was bad enough...but twice?? Cruel.)
One summer of yelling at rabbits as they happily ate my vegetable garden (current).
One blizzard followed by five hours of shoveling followed by one new snow-blower.
Countless potlucks and parties and gatherings.
One lover turn loved turned heartbreak turning to past love.
Also one dead squirrel under the back porch that involved emergency removal and dramatic screaming.
Hundreds of seeds and bulbs planted, followed by hundreds of terrible cell phone photos on the way to catch and/or miss the bus.
What feels like a hundred hours of indecision and questions and worries, and at least double that of joy and comfort and certainty over making this place home, putting down the cash to put down roots, and putting in the time to make it where I want to spend my days.
Oh, and one really awesome song, written by my first roommate who loves this place as much as I do: