Today I felt my head clearing for the first time in days. I thought that I’d beat my son’s flu, but no such luck.
Hopefully I’ll remember how this felt and get a flu shot next autumn.
Since I was in such a good routine of walking the dog for longer
stretches and going to the gym before this, I hope I can pick up where
I left off. If only it was as easy to get into, as it is to get out of,
shape.
I spent much of the past few days dreaming about trees in
leaf (without tent caterpillars), flowers of every colour in bloom (no
bugs) and walking down the garden path in sandals. Just enjoying the
Amaryllis (above) was enough to take me off into my rosy world of reverie.
What
I love above dreaming of my garden, is that the flowers are always
brilliantly coloured and somehow blooming all at the same time.
This
afternoon, I was out in the back garden checking to make sure the
garage wasn’t flooded. The temperature rose farther above freezing than
predicted, so the snow was melting quickly. 
Since
I was by the garage, I had a look at the stenciled garage wall. It was
so good to see that it has emerged from the winter unscathed. I was
almost afraid to look in case the protective coating had cracked or
discoloured or somehow the stenciling had all disappeared. Thankfully,
it looks just as it did before the snow arrived.
You can see a
corner of the wall in the above photograph with Lytton, the dog. Hope
springs eternal with him. He was sure I’d let him out to romp in the
back alley. He doesn’t understand the meaning of the word, ‘later’.
There’s no finer a master of the dejected look than Lytton. 
When
we toured the front garden, I had a moment of sheer happiness when I
saw one of my favourite flowers, Dianthus superbus, had emerged from
the snow – the first green of the year in this garden.
Then my
son arrived home with news that he had passed the written part of his
learner’s driving permit. It is hard to get my head around the idea of
my son with a driver’s permit, especially when earlier I was recalling
how he loved repeating flower names almost as soon as he had learned to
speak.
Reveries and memories … and my wall survived.
Kate smudges in earth, paint and life 
Leave a reply to Louise Cancel reply