Wednesday, December 13, 2017

The Cone Fondler

That (above) is the inside south wall of my studio. That nice thick cork is for my notes and drawings and stuff. The unfinished ceiling you see is the last of the Pine planking to be done. It’ll be finished today and Darrell will move onto the installation of the hearth, stove and floor.

And this is a view of the exterior south wall of my house. It’s the wall that’ll host the sunroom Darrell’s going to build for me in January. I got the snowshoes at the recycling centre. I love having them on the wall. And see the Amaryllis in my kitchen window! Doesn’t it look nice and cozy in yesterday’s sunlight?
Thank God that creepy (pseudo) “Christian” pedophile lost in Alabama.
My studio has a big shiny chimney now. It’s really tall and on the inside, the way it goes through the roof is really tidy. Everything in the studio is perfect —all new and straight and unblemished. I can hardly wait to move in. My rug for the bed end arrived today.
The Azaleas I planted in containers already have noticeably larger buds. That excites me.
The Genus name of the Fir tree is “Abies;” the Family name is Pinaceae, so Fir cones are Pine cones after all.
My space heater is drying the living room carpet. Can you guess why? I’m really glad I settled on Pinecone Park for the name for this place. Were I to be deciding today it might be Feces Folly or Urinetown.
“Stop and smell the roses,” the saying goes.
When I first encountered them I didn’t think of pinecones as roses. Quite the contrary: I thought of them as God’s little brown and tapered turds. But now I have them drying in my living room. I protect them from the cats and I turn them like incubating eggs.
I pick them up one at a time; that’s how it began. Then I picked them up, again one at a time, to lay them out to dry on the tables. Then I turned them and got them all onto racks to get them more thoroughly dry and yesterday I started picking up each one and gently squeezing it. I could tell from the temperature if it was dry or wet.
It’s led to a connection with them that verges on the profound. They’re seeds; each one is scores of potential trees. They’ve become my babies; talismans of life yet fulfilled.
I treat them as if there were precious. I spent hours working on them today. I’m putting the dry ones into large cardboard boxes that I’ll keep in the house. I’ll be handling them individually again when I sort them by length and degree of germination (width) before I start handing them again to glue them to the fence.
My home has Pine floors and the studio is all in Pine too and now the fence is becoming a monument to Fir cones. Pinecone Park really is the perfect name for this place (because Fircone Folly, although more accurate, is heinous).
On Monday I went to the vet’s to arrange to have Ethel’s stitches removed (they were removed yesterday). While I was there I asked about Fred’s cough.
I’ve been there often already. Karen, the receptionist, is perfection: She’s warm, efficient and knowledgeable. She was so kind to me when I was so overwhelmed by Leon’s passing. Still, on Monday I could not speak at all. I had to mime everything.
Karen was fabulous. She was awesome at interpreting my Charades. Still, it seems odd to me to be unable to speak because I feel so over-the-moon happy here but I could not get a single sound out. The good news: She told me not to worry about Fred’s cough but to watch him.
The bleached pinecone is novel. I don’t like the idea of using bleach because I don’t know how to safely dispose of it. I’m on a septic system. But I may do a few more to use in special places. It looks good but the process is harsh.
At ten o’clock there was a knock at my front door. It startled me because I wasn’t expecting anyone. It was Ryan the (spectacularly handsome) man who came to install the chimney in my studio. He really took to the studio. Handsome is so nice, especially with good manners. Sigh.
I hated taking Ethel in to have her stiches out. I’m so scared she’ll hate me forever. She’s so slight and timid. I’m really glad that’s over with. Sheba’s turn is coming and I don’t have anything like the anxiety I’ve had over Ethel’s spaying about her surgery. She’s so big and earthy and solid.
I ended my day in the disco hot tub on a fine clear night looking at the stars just before pie. Excellent.
And today’s another sunny warm (for winter) day.

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