April 16, 2023
Many things were on my gratitude list this week. First, I had the good fortune to be a good friend, and it doesn’t get much better than that. I accompanied a friend who was having surgery in Seattle halfway between her home and mine. The surgery ended up being postponed due a more immediate issue requiring a different (upcoming) surgery. It’s her story, not mine, but I spent eight hours on Interstate 5 in three days, and lots of time with her. It made me happy.
We spent a night at the Inn at Virginia Mason where I spent a night with my mother many years ago, home for a visit when she had an eye surgery. It brought back memories of her, which is always a good thing. (Well, usually a good thing.) Just for fun, I took the suitcase I imagine she took when she spent nights at the Inn over the years. I’m sure the child-sized roller bag fit her five-foot stature just fine; it didn’t work well for my five feet six, a fact I didn’t think about when I packed it.
I found two (of nine) copies of my book in my library. I am happy to see they are shelving it with caregiving books rather than biography. And it’s living next to a new acquaintance’s book! A second copy was face out on the new non-fiction shelf. And there are now (thanks to my daughter) three copies in the Seattle Public Library—two are checked out!
My big accomplishment: I got the peas planted! Next up in the garden (still), a new box for salad.
I’ll just leave this here, because I love her so. Lena is always part of my happy.
A recent Airbnb guest left this in the guest journal. Such gifts remind me why I do this.
New in the yard: the rhododendron that usually has blooms in the dead of winter, but did not this year.
Finally, this week’s daily Walk in the Woods (minus the Sorrento—an urban walk day).
Happy Spring!
Writing Down the Story 
Dear Gretchen,
Yes, the privilege of being a good friend is a fine thing. Loved your meandering check-in. No worries about planting your peas late. Ours went in the ground on April 3 and they are just barely showing their little curved heads. It has been cold. Blessings, Ann
>
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is a fine thing. And I realized yesterday, I should have made the lettuce first priority, not the peas. Good grief. I need to make a new box first. I’m glad you like my meandering. It’s like a journal, that maybe no one cares about. But that’s the beauty of blogging for me: nothing lost if no one cares!
LikeLike
Maybe I’ll get some lettuce starts and the seeds can be a later crop. 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you for your ever clear writing, your heart for your life, and your friends. It is these gestures–walking alongside J. in her medical morass (and soon healing) and keeping the room so personal and beautiful–that make the world shine.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, CBee. I’m so lucky to have such inspiring friends. You and Ann are due a stay at Three of Earth Farm!
LikeLike
You’re a good friend. I’m sure your presence was so appreciated. Lots to love about the surprise of spring. “Not every flower belongs in every garden” is what I lean into when the volunteers are more prolific than whatever I was foolish enough to “expect”. My rhodies are always slow and sluggish but they get very little of my attention these days. Your guest sounds delightful and I love that others find the same sense of peace and “home” that I always find there too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, the rhodies get none of my attention ever. So there’s that. I’m not even sure what attention they would like! My plan for my mother’s garden this year is to toss out wildflower seeds and see what comes up. But first I need to loosen the soil. And I just realized . . . I should have planted them in the fall in this moderate climate. 🙄
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah so very much wonderful! I love that the dandelion has made it into your daily photos. Also, the rhodies here are acting strangely too. It’s been a winter. And wow, what an amazing comment in your guest book! This was a lovely post, thank you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I love dandelions. The flower, at least, if not the broad leafed ones in yard and garden. I realized yesterday that what I thought was a half-eaten blossom is actually (I think) a half-opened one. I’m glad it’s not just my old rhodie that seems tired.
LikeLiked by 2 people