GreenAcorn of Flourish

Not quite enough sleep, and my stomach was upset most of the day. However, I got up and put my clothes on, because I knew the neighbor who is a contractor would be back, and I wanted to make a better showing. Nothing gives confidence in social interactions like the knowledge that one IS wearing underwear. Sure enough, he turned up while we were drinking our tea. He very efficiently installed a support post to make sure the porch won't sag until he can come back and do a complete job of removing the old one and putting in a replacement that will be nicely finished. He has a lot of work piled up, so he won't get around to us for awhile. I really appreciate him for taking the time to come in and shore it up until then.

I'd been planning to clean some things on the porch. While I was prospecting in the garage for a bucket, I discovered some boxes with things in them. I got curious and opened them up. I found and put away: the heavy medieval cloak the Duchess made for when she was pregnant with Ikes, and then gave to me when I was pregnant with the Philosopher; the purple shirt with orange trim I sewed for the Sparrowhawk's 21st birthday; the embroidered wool waistcoat my mother made him one Christmas; his Captain Picard shirt; the box of blocks that the Duke made by hand for the baby Philosopher; the Sparrowhawk's and my Recommended 2nd Degree Black Belts; two restaurant-size pump action coffee thermoses; a Christmas angel; and one of my parents' old creche sets. The fabric items are being washed/cleaned, the other things put away elsewhere. Now I have two more empty storage containers. At that point I decided I needed a shower. En route to the shower I ended up doing some bathroom cleaning and putting away the Sparrowhawk's clean laundry. Then I finally got back to the porch and washed off the cheery vinyl tablecloth, which gets dusty with rain and wind, and scrubbed down the big black punching/kicking bag we still have from our martial arts days--it got really dusty too--and then started washing the doorstep and walls. I say "started." There's a lot left to do.

The Sparrowhawk mowed the front lawn, checked the tires, which were fine, and went to the post office to mail the Nipper some books about beekeeping that he asked for. We sat in the back yard for awhile, but I didn't really get any writing done. I had other things going through my mind. A cardinal flew right over my head, and then sat and sang in the bushes. I complained that my gardening was inadequate. The Sparrowhawk said he liked it that way. So I read him Robert Herrick's "Delight in Disorder."

A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribands to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part.

Well, that's me all over. Not that I wear petticoats, but my shrubberies are certainly tempestuous. Being too precise in every part has never been my problem. I think "Tempestuous Petticoats" would be an ideal title for a Georgian romance. And its sequel, "A Wild Civility."

I chopped up a lot of vegetables, and the Sparrowhawk made a delicious stir fry with some rice. This seems to have agreed with me so far. Maybe I will feel better tomorrow. We've finished "The Family from One End Street" and moved on to another Arthur Ransome, "We Didn't Mean To Go To Sea." I THINK we have just reached the chapter where the children accidentally drift down the estuary and are carried out into the Channel--in the middle of the night! The chapter is called "Nothing Can Go Wrong." Ominous guns hang on the wall, waiting to be fired. It's really quite thrilling.