long weekend notes

Weekend notes. Art, pictures, mirrors and empty frames are off the walls.  It is sooner than I expected but it was what presented itself for today when it started out cloudy, dark and wet.  After two boxes of art/pictures (with another two to go), I am finished for today because there is sun and a chance to sit on our deck and tap on keys.  We have not had anytime outside in this lovely space this spring.  Granted, there may have been a few appropriate days that we missed.  Trees have fully leafed out, the grass is extraordinarily green, the peonies are poised to burst with just a few more days of sun and a million ants, and the lily of the valley . . . another one of my favorites . . . blooms!  Thankfully, a friend brought by cuttings from her flower garden last week and I kept the vase—all of mine are packed.  I have what I need for lily of the valley to come inside.  

Saturday must have been 72 degrees with almost absolutely no humidity and virtually bugless.  Heaven in Madison.  Sunday and Monday have afforded some time for a grand weeding and between the two of us, it is almost done.  Good gardening days have been scarce and when there has been one, I have stayed with packing more than I might have.  Just a few minutes in the extraordinary green and melancholy washes away — and it is only weeding.  This time of year, I usually weed and plan for additions and movings.  Not this time.  I do what is in front of me to do and I do it gratefully.

Friends who want to look and/or buy those treasures that I want to get rid of have been stoping by.  So much more fun to show/sell to friends or even friends of friends than doing the Craigslist thing.  

 In the past, I have packed room by room which is efficient for labeling and cataloguing boxes; however, I’ve been packing since March for the house sale and I’ve done/am doing it by category.  Books done, art done on Monday, glassware and dishes, including trays and all those pretty things I can’t part with done in a two waves, I’ve had one go at cookware.  Lamps are gathering in one corner of the living room, baking ingredients and tea things found boxes today. More kitchen in another week. I am hoping that the last pots and the remaining dishes and bowls will go into one dish pack with the big label to open first.  The same with linens of all sorts, most are packed—one more box, perhaps a tub, should capture bedding and towels.  I suspect that will be the absolute last box packed.

The green metal table and chairs that we bought for our patio in Indy and that has found a home on the porch in Madison will be leaving.  Thankfully, to the mother of a friend.  It is like so much else that I am shedding—I’ve had it for a long time, can attach memories to it, but I cannot use it where we are going and it still looks good. There was a final rack of coats in the basement that I’ve held on to much long than I should have.  Nothing was vitally useful but nothing was completely useless either.  But I will never wear David’s heavy leather jacket or my leather bomber jacket for that matter.  I have never worn the long leather coat that was my mother’s or her fur.  I was finished with her late fall jacket that I’ve used in my cold weather rotation.  And then there was David’s wedding suit and an Irish knit sweater that his parents brought back for him when they travelled.  As I was disposing of these things I was very aware of how little that belonged to David remains with me.  I can’t even say that I am sad to part with the things but I am sad about the idea of this parting.  As long as I lived here, the room David’s remaining things took up was small and of no consequence, but I resolved not to carry what I do not use.  And I am holding to that.  I was so aware that as I gave over each piece, the act was deliberate, intentional and those things, or other things, would not belong to David again.  It is another farewell.  Later, when I survey the basement without the clothes hanging on the rack, I search my heart for some regret and it is not there.

Julia needs a iPad and phone vacation — or confiscation, depending on who is describing it.  Too much time obsessing over an anime series called My Hero Academia.  We go through this every hew months it seems and the bad mood does not abate for days.  A week’s deprivation seems life a lifetime to her, and almost the same to me.  Someone will inevitably comment that the need to take electronics away is very age appropriate—not really.  She is 18, more appropriate for someone 13 and even someone 13 would have more social options to fall back on.  I’m still praying for a friend.  Maybe in Newton.

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