As you can see, several boxes are packed and now I will wait two more weeks to start packing again. If Lee was who he used to be he would be pleased to have the house go to a woodworker and a quilter. It is a house built for makers.
With the internet being out for a few days, I needed to have the sight line from the disk on the roof to the tower checked. Sure enough, those pesky leaves came out in abundance. The tree man who has trimmed here before came to solve the problem. It makes me nervous to watch him but I photograph as he goes from my perch on the porch.
Then he cleaned it all up and stashed the debris deep into the woods. It turns out he is the brother of the realtor representing the buyer. This is a small world I live in and likely will not get any bigger where I am moving.
I made it to the dam.
The water was really high….
A walk over to the house to see how it was coming along. The heat and air ducts are now in.
And the garage cleaned out for more deliveries of wiring and insulation.
This morning I took time to catch up on my Riverwalk House book.
I discovered another small tree growing behind the lichen covered dogwood outside my living room windows. I will have to find out what it is.
I found a scrap of cardboard with some of the exterior paint on it. And strings from the webbing of a wrapping plastic that I used to measure distances by making overhand knots from one side to the other of short distances of where I wondered about furniture fitting.
The country is still in shock over yet another school shooting. Friends from different parts of the world ask what is wrong with us that we continue to let this happen. The best answer I can find is that the United States has become victim to a lazy ignorance that no one really saw coming. And this ignorance is very easy for the Republican Party, led by the previous president, to manipulate into so many wrong decisions based on the fears of those too deep in their beliefs to see the truth of what we have become. The women that support the men making choices for themselves and their daughters are the ones I find most heinous.
It may take the next generation to get us out of this revolving door of continual ignorance and the fears that come with it.
Many people touring the house this week. When I get back from staying away and they are still here I get to answer questions. Some are very interested but I will wait for paperwork to show up. In the meantime the house is kept picked up and a book to read stays in the car.
I have been out of internet service for a few days and today they came and said it is tree branches in the way. My tree man called back and said he would be here later today. I hope so because I would like to see the final chapter of a Scandinavian thriller that just disappeared in a storm the other night. Plus it is a pain not to get the latest off my Iphone.
Yesterday I walked over to the new house site and saw that the heat and air things have arrived…
This could mean that by the time I get back there tomorrow it will all be installed…..could happen.
Yesterday I picked up the prints from the framers. So far they are still laid on the table.
Last night I had company for dinner here. First small group since pre covid times. It was lovely to share food, wine and conversation. Plus as my daughter said it lets me practice my social skills that have been locked behind no small amount of anger and sadness these past couple of years. And it is such a good feeling when someone wants to look at my sketchbooks and talk about the emotions connected to the imagery.
Then this morning a walk along the river.
Aren’t those yellowy greens wonderful? The color of my car.
More later when I might have more news on the house here and my new one…..
When the house is being shown I need to disappear. So I go off to a parking lot and read a book or try to write thoughts down. I still start the day with a walk. Twice to the river in the last few days.
The river is rising and is covered with pollen.
It is all so lush now. …like the leaves and blooms are shoving each other out of the way to show off how much bigger and better they are. I wish they would have taken their time and not be so rushed to bury the details of of what is behind and under them. Full on summer is what we have now.
The other day I sat in a parking lot writing about a homeless man I saw along the pavement of my river walk. I saw him up ahead, arms loaded with filled plastic bags. As I approached he started lamenting how wasteful teenagers are with their food. He pulled french fries from a food container, proceeded to toss them to a pair of ducks and tell me that at least they weren’t completely wasted. Not once did it occur to me that he might have eaten some of them himself. He took such pleasure in feeding those ducks.
On my return I saw him up ahead, right where I left him. The ducks had moved on but he did not. As I kept walking toward him I saw him take a comb out of his back pocket and slick it through his hair. When I was next to him he asked if I knew about the bank in town giving away free tomato plants. I did not. So he told me where it was and reminded me to take advantage of their free plants and get myself some home grown tomatoes. I thanked him, said I would, knowing I wouldn’t. But what struck me then and has stayed with me is how he combed his hair to talk to me. It was such a beautiful gesture.
And while I was writing this down in my pad while waiting for the hour to be up…the hour I need to stay away from the house, I thought more about hair. There was a woman at the river walk this morning. She was walking her large French poodle. Her hair was shaped just like the dogs…a puff on the top and the rest hanging down the sides of her face similar to her dog’s ears. I tried not to notice her white blouse with puffy sleeves matching the white fluffy shoulders of her dog. I wondered if the dog is an influence she is aware of. Then thought about my own hair and the influence of negligence.
I don’t comb it. Wash it once aa week. Squeeze the curls in as it feels the heat of the dryer…best done bending over so the thinning hair does not dry flat to the scalp. Once every five weeks I get it trimmed. And as soon as I am out of sight of the hairdresser, I run my fingers through her perfect placement to move things around. ANYTHING to make it look like I did not just come from the hairdresser’s.
It is like bouquets of flowers from the florist. Each one selected and placed in a position of formulaic beauty. None of them look happy to be there in floral arranging positions 101-110.
When I wanted to bring flowers to someone I would go to the florist and ask to go through the coolers to pick my own bouquet. All they needed to do was place them into a paper, wrap and tie a bow after assessing the cost. I wanted flowers that looked like I wandered through a garden or down a road selecting just the right ones for that person. Not those that are forced and shaped and stuffed into yet another glass vase I would need to store in the garage.
I wonder if florists let costumers do that anymore.
Now when I want flowers for myself I pick through the ones on sale (3 bunches for $10) in the grocery store. Most of them look like what they are – unwanted. But on a good day there will be a good reason to take not just three but six bunches home to spread on the kitchen counter. Trim their stems and prop them willy-nilly in a large clay pot. Find some greenery in the yard to get them all comfortable with each other. Put them on a table in a room seen from all directions. I have given them the last home they will know and as each one dies off, they are tossed over the bank to join all the remains of other flowers, rescued, appreciated and flung into the wilds of down below.
This morning I was back along the river. For awhile I had company to walk with.
The river was higher and there was a fetid odor as the path got closer to the water.
There were at least fifteen ducklings in this group on the water. So much fun to watch.
And always the beautiful details along the path.
I watched a man coming my way drop to the ground and begin doing pushups. He had grey hair and was also carrying dumbbells. He was serious about his morning workout. I waited until he finished by taking pictures of the river. When we were about to pass, he apologized if he was “over stepping” but wanted me to know that there were homeless men further along and since I was a lone woman, perhaps I should consider not going as far as where these men were. I thanked him, said I was at my turning point anyway and watched him raising his dumbbells in alternate strokes over his head til he was way out of sight in front of me.
And I thought about the homeless men under the overpass and how they likely were not sharing leftover french fries with ducks.
The signs are up. One showing last week. Two scheduled for today, more tomorrow and Friday. Good thing I just put fresh mountain laurel in the vase.
I need to leave the house each time it is shown, so I have about two hours to get this posted.
Walks this week…the river, the dam and this morning over to the house.
I like this rock pretending to be a vulture looking for prey out on the water.
And the river flowing toward the power plant below the dam.
And the view from my porch here.
This morning I walked over to the new house. I met a man with a dog who will be a neighbor. He is a retired law enforcement officer from Atlanta. The neighbors seem nice and more diverse than where I live now.
My house is now painted grey.
It will have white trim. I did not bring a tape measure but found string there I could knot to take distances from walls out. I decided that I really need shelves built in on each side of the fireplace for those things I love looking at. So I met the builder of those shelves and explained I would like him to make them deeper than he had planned. I told him a house is all about the things in it, so making correct spaces is important.
This past weekend I had time to catch up on my sketchbook about the new house.
Now I will post this and check all the rooms, apartment, shop and wipe pollen off surfaces on the porch.
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