The house felt terribly empty all day without Leon. I kept thinking: This is the calm before the storm for soon we’ll be four bonding and housebreaking together through winter.
Last night, I was content by the fire with The Durrells in Corfu never unaware of the absence of Leon on my chest. I’d keep looking around for him and wanting to call him to come sit on my lap. I feel like I’ve lost my twin.
The pool table is gone. Jay and Kelly did a skookum job of removing it yesterday and now the building is ready for renovation (once the fence is finished).
Last night I went to bed trying to think of names for the kittens that are coming. I thought of name pairs and rejected every one: I hated Romeo and Juliet, for example, and Orpheus and Eurydice, Sonny and Cher and every combo I could think of.
Then, Sunday morning Jay, Kelly, Paula and I had breakfast together at Robert’s and while we were talking Kelly said Ying and Yang and I thought they were excellent names for my cats. This morning, I’m not so sure.
The planting progresses: Now when I look out my office windows I see my imprint in the new trees, the fence and planters. It makes me feel overpoweringly happy. When the sunlight hit the deep purples and reds of the leaves on my new trees, it was like I’d been painting with leaves.
There is colour in the yard now. The pots outside my outbuildings add something beautiful and they move me because their part of my home — my home! And I’ve started the garden at my front entrance. It’s really the base of two trees. Today I’ll bury fifty Narcissus bulbs and some lavender in it— neither of which deer like according to the nursery.
A nice barbeque and blueberry pie felt deserved after the day of work in the garden.
The weather right now is ideal and Peter and Allyson arrive at dinnertime. I haven’t seen Ally, a dear friend, for eight years. They moved to Dubai and the Qatar. Now they live in Ontario. Dinner tonight will be a blast.