Tuesday’s Cosmic Moment: I walked around the yard to visit every shrub I’ve planted since moving here. The magic moment happened at the Camellia tree. I’d given it up for dead because the Deer ate every single leaf before the fence was finished. But no! There are lots of buds on it. I felt as though a friend had awakened from a coma; I was overjoyed that one of my “children” survived.
I’m definitely going to get another couple of yards of soil and plant more Azalea and Rodos in the yard. I want to plop them amongst the natural bush growing in a glade in my yard. I don’t want a garden; I want to brighten up what’s naturally there.
My water was treated. I enjoyed doing my teeth in my bathroom again instead of in the kitchen were I have purified tap water — thanks to my horrifically expensive system. It’s wonderful to not smell my water any more.
I fetched Ross and Pam at noon. I was delighted that the drizzly day brightened. We came home, had some champagne and talked and talked after having not been together for a long time. After that, we had lunch: individual quiches, my favourite salad, strawberries and cookies.
After lunch, we hot tubed and they loved it. Then a walk on my favourite trail and then I took them back to the ferry for their trip home.
In the evening, I cried my way through a documentary on PBS about Fred Rogers and his neighbourhood. What a remarkable guy! I particularly liked listening to Itzhak Perlman’s recollections; he spoke about meeting Mr. Rogers for the first time and discovering that the on-air personality was the same off-air.
The accounting of Mr. Rogers’ episode with Koko the signing Gorilla turned me into a puddle.
So I’m off to Nanaimo now. It’s a decent day; nice and mild. I get a free trip, thanks to the MSP Travel Assistance Plan. I’m getting my hands x-rayed and getting some supplies in bulk while I’m over there. I hope I have enough time to check out a nursery.
I found a new wood supplier. I’m getting a couple of cords from him and then three more from Doug, the fellow who peed in my yard. Then I’ll have six cords seasoning over the summer for next winter and no winter wood stacking.
And the start of the courtyard has been pushed back a week because the pavers are taking longer than expected to arrive.
My friends know my history with alcohol: One beer in 1968 (Germany), some red wine that same year when I got home from Europe that made me pass out and, finally, three beer in 1994 one night when a friend was trying to help me get over Steve’s departure from my life.
Then, perhaps six years ago, Paula got me onto champagne. As part of her job, she found a boutique champagne maker in France who wasn’t selling his grapes to the big champagne producers. Instead, he bottled his own; his mark is Gaston Chiquet. Then I grew to like a BC sparkling wine producer and, for special occasions, Veuve Clicquot.
Since the onset of my condition, however, I stopped drinking alcohol. Until yesterday. I brought out some Veuve for Ross and Pam and oh my God it was good! I get the demi-liter bottles. They are excellent for two. Oh my God. Veuve is the best for my palette. I don’t think I have ever enjoyed alcohol as much as I did yesterday — just two glasses full.
My new resolution: Drink less and drink better. All I ever want to drink now is Veuve.