Finding Home

Hens and chicks of different colors.

Hello from sunny Vermont. My laptop is truly in my lap right now, and since the dog is woofing from the screen door, soon he’ll be in my lap as well. I’m sitting in one-half of my double adirondack chairs, my tea to my right, steaming with pleasure. I plan to sit out here for a good long time, getting soothed by the sun, creating strong sentences.

I’ve got my fleece on. It’s not until the outside temperature reaches my inside temperature (98.6 F) that I’m most comfortable in my skin. Once I spent some time in Tucson, and I walked from our hotel to the University of Tucson college campus in dry 100 degree heat. Twenty minutes of being warm enough. That’s mostly what I remember from that trip.

Maybe that’s why I’m so attracted to succulents. My library friends and I visited Cady’s Falls Nursery yesterday, spending an hour or so meandering the garden paths, and there were tables with long rows of hens and chicks of different colors and textures. Someone had taken an old muffin tin, bore holes underneath, and filled each cup with various types. I thought of all the sad irons at my parents’ and even in our own garage, ready for repurposing. We all took lots of pictures so we’d remember the different kinds of containers on display. I came home so animated and energized by what I’d experienced there with all the flowers–alive like I hadn’t been since before all this rough sailing crashed down on us. I used to love planting flowers and tilling the soil. There’s no time for that now.

Yesterday afternoon we went to look at an apartment. We both loved it, though it was a rule out for Serena because of the new off-gassing smells. But it was a rule in for me. This two bedroom, easy lay out, very manageable home felt so right, and I’m filling out an application. Perhaps the timing will work out so we can find Serena a place and then move into this new place ourselves, while we wait for a buyer for our own home. It doesn’t sound practical or smart or financially prudent to carry two to three places, but sometimes the best thing for everybody means taking chances and easing burdens. I’m all for easing burdens, especially mine.

I’m writing more on Quill Point this weekend, hoping to write ten pages or so. I think I’ll have Eva start a succulent garden. And maybe some container gardens. She’s got some treasures in that shed she and her dad built. What odd containers do you plant your flowers in?

Check back next week for another segment of Finding Home.







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One thought on “Hens and chicks of different colors.

  1. Maggie on said:

    I came across Mom’s old downhill ski boots last summer. The kind we all used in the 1950’s. Heavy, with square toes that fit into bindings on the heavy wooden skis. No wonder her legs were so strong! I savored all the memories connected to Mom from these ski boots. Sunday afternoons at Arctic Valley Ski slope high in the mountains above our home in Anchorage, Alaska. Hanging on to the rope tow tightly (but not too tightly because then it work jerk me off my feet) trying to keep my skis in the tracks as I was pulled higher up the mountain side, then speeding back down the mountain side feeling fearful of falling and exhilarated when I didn’t. We would ski until the mountains were colored pink with alpine glow and our cheeks matched that glow. Good memories.

    I planted nasturtiums in Mom’s ski boots. I love the hardiness of these flowers and their vibrant colors. They looked perfect in her boots. I sent you a picture by email.

    Enjoy the sunshine. Soak in the energy.

    Love, Maggie

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