Swung by the new hardware store that just went in–a monstrous, sprawling beast covering well over a block all on its own. I was there for a bag of birdseed and some suet, but was seduced by bleeding heart and an interesting little shade-tolerant blue ground cover that I have already forgotten the name of, but which I will give a shot.
I’m thinking of getting a birdhouse. I wasn’t too impressed with their birdhouse selection there, but perhaps the farmers market or the flea market will have something. They did offer a bluebird nest house, however, and since bluebirds are apparently suffering untold depredations from invader species down here in the South, and I am fortunate enough to have five that come to the feeder, perhaps I should make the offer. I suspect, of course, that the birdhouse will remain empty and I will get Carolina wrens nesting in the barbecue, because that’s how life works.
Once upon a time, my highest ambition was to live relatively comfortably. Didn’t want to be rich, just didn’t want to always be on the trembling edge of anxiety about how the bills were gonna be paid. James and I have actually, in a modest way, achieved that. And I wanted an apartment that didn’t have holes in the floor. Did that. And as is predictable, my wants have grown.
Now I want a house of my own.
And there will not be a single white wall in it. Even if white would look GOOD. I don’t care. I have had enough of white walls to last a lifetime. I want them in copper and scarlet and sage and blues you can chip your brain on. And since we’re dreaming anyway, no bloody formica. I don’t need marble countertops, but the 70’s faux marble formica in the bathroom of this place would gag a hyena.
A washer and dryer would be nice, too. I can live without another trip to the Wash-‘n-Dry.
And I will have a garden, and there will be sun in it somewhere. I am tired of shade-tolerant container gardening. It’s fine in its place. I just would like to be able to plant something that likes sun, and maybe in the ground for a change. Something tall. Foxglove, or delphinium. I love foxglove. It grows wild in Oregon, and the verges of the roads are overrun with serrated pink spires. I miss that. I would like to be able to attract butterflies, who currently regard my deck as some sort of black hole, because it’s in shade all summer.
And I will put up bird houses. And more bird houses. And a bat house. And if I get insanely ambitious, a little froggy pond. Although it would probably prove a breeding ground for mosquitoes, requiring fish, which would die, requiring constant restocking of fish. Perhaps moving water. My stepfather can build a mean fountain when he’s got found a rock he likes. Perhaps I can commission one. And a giant stone fish somewhere! Yeah! And no cement cherubs!*
And perhaps a rocket car. Because that would be cool.
*While I am opposed to cement garden objects d’art, I confess, if I ever found a cement wombat, I would probably break.