Maybe summer, has saved the best for last, for the beauty of this morning rivaled any summer morning, I have ever seen. Sun had replaced rain, for the first time in weeks. The cicadas were singing and a light breeze stirred the leaves on the old trees. A few “early birds” were out. The birds went about their business, the frantic state of spring, now far behind them.
Late summer is a crossroads, of sorts. It is a time to tie up loose ends. Projects started with zeal, in spring, that were never fully completed and projects that were never started at all, seem to call to us now. When the purple loosestrife starts to bloom, then we are in the twilight of summer . . .and the purple spikes of the loosestrife are beginning to bloom now, at the rabbitpatch.
Today, I am called to finish a project. I am finishing the trim work in the living room. This is long overdue, shamefully long overdue. I had hoped my affair with the ladder was over, after the kitchen ceiling. Why I do not have a girlish figure is beyond me, but alas I look as elderly as ever. Apparently, ice cream and biscuits are not canceled out by hard work. I will be so very thankful, when the appraisal is over and declare I will be lazy for a while afterwards. If I start feeling overly sentimental about the selling the rabbitpatch, then will I remember the ladder – and the lawn mower, that is very temperamental.
The little, under an hour job, of painting the trim work, took all day. I did not factor in that the doors would look so dingy under the stark white trim. I did not expect a layer of dust and dirt beneath the sofas . . .I had just moved them a few months ago, to dust and scrub. Then there were the windows! They were awful I noticed. . .and so I had to clean them as well. One thing always seems to lead to another.
By late afternoon, a dreaded earache made its’ presence known. I have them every once in a while, and they are miserable affairs. It has been about a year, since I had one, but their memory remains clear. Thankfully, I had clove oil. I also drank as much water as I could stand with oregano oil. I slept with an ice pack, right through the supper hour.
I slept through the “early service” altogether. I suspect things went well, anyway. The nap threw me off and the night was uncomfortable. Sleep was fitful but upon waking, I did feel better and realised I detest the taste of oregano oil . . .but plan to use it again today.
When I did get up, I went straight away to cleaning the hall . It has high ceilings where entire communities of spiders go about their business – and the “Christmas Closet” (filled now with secrets) was dusty. I have a door to paint and floors to scrub. I have two more rooms to clean after that and I have to pack . . for I am going to Elizabeth City tomorrow, where a laughing river tumbles by.
At noon or shortly after, I took a break. The spiders had been evacuated and that ladder put away. I was far from finished, but had made progress. My ear did not ache, but I drank a glass of water with a drop of the oregano oil, for good measure.
Cash slept close by, pouting a bit at my lack of attention. Ever so often, he looked up as if to accuse me of not loving him anymore. I would remind him he was the best dog in the world and he seemed to take it to heart, for he perked up at those moments and then buried his velvet nose in his paws, again. . . content with my declaration.
I love dogs. I especially love boxers. Their faces are full of expression. Their heart is worn on their sleeve. They are highly trainable, but require dedicated owners, as they are known as “eternal puppies”. An untrained boxer, could make your life miserable.
I enjoy the company of Cash. He is never far from me when I am at home. I am also very dependent on him, for he is alert and protective. Dogs never lie. If he says “we have company”, then we do whether I heard it or not.
He will be quite forlorn, when I bring the suitcase out, to pack. When I come home, he will gallop around the yard at full speed After our reunion, he will want to eat and he does so greedily . It is the same every time.
Ironically, the first dog that ever bit me was a boxer. A friend of mine who prefers german shepherds, says the first dog that bit him was a shepherd.
By four o’clock, I had lost my gumption. There was a floor to be scrubbed, supper to be cooked and I had not packed. I opted to cook supper first as Kyle and Christian will survive on cereal, scrambled eggs and sandwiches, while I am gone.
As usual, I caught a second wind and started packing, after supper. I was also determined to scrub the floor in the laundry room. I like to leave the house clean, and the boys are good at maintaining the house, while I am gone, for I make all sorts of threats.
It has not rained for two days. If the weather holds out, I plan to meander by that laughing river with Lyla. I do hope it will be cool enough for a picnic . . and maybe we will sit on the old rock again as we did when summer was young and the loosestrife , was just beginning to sprout.