The next week, I rented a rototiller. We created a 40' x 7' garden space where we used to have pointless lawn. I started all the seeds indoors. We have some concerns that the ground is too hostile. All clay and grass. Grass is such an asshole, a monoculture asshole that supports no life and requires a great many resources and time to maintain. Still, it's been fun watching things grow at a glacial pace as it were. Next year the ground will be better.
And I'm still working on quilts and cooking a little bit. Some pear salad and pear/chicken flatbread with the exquisite pears had delivered for my birthday, and some bread made with Greek yogurt and self-rising flour. Really blurry pics, but very tasty!
We spent our ten-year anniversary in Eagle Creek after a fresh rain. The park had been closed to vehicles due to idiots swarming the park. It should always be a pedestrian-only park. It was calm and quiet, and it was evident that nature had healed itself. We picked up a pizza for dinner, and I had made a cake, and we popped a bottle of "champagne" that Larry picked up during a visit there right after we started dating. We also made home-remedy ant killer with Borax and peanut butter, because that right there is true romance.
I had five cubic yards of mulch delivered and spread it over my back and front yard over the course of four days. My place never looked so good. The pandemic has taught me to slow down and not plow through work. I can't believe how much more enjoyable hard work is when you just slow down. I've also learned to stop when I'm getting crabby or sloppy. Putting in my starts of Columbine and Foxglove gave me a huge boost. I've been wanting an English Cottage Garden for some time now, and I'm actually making it happen, little by little, seed by seed. It felt good to give myself that dream, and I am going to give myself many more little dreams that deliver big joy.
Larry worked on the horrendous garage while I spread mulch.
Drunk Monkey Gardens takes on a literal meaning as I string beer cans across the crops to scare away birds. Also, my deflated Happy Birthday balloon and some inside-out potato chip bags.
Duct-taped a broken sunflower. It lives!
The other big thing going on is that our country is a disaster and President Nero Bunker Bitch is a dumpster fire. I don't know what we'll do if he steals the election again.
I took some PTO to vacation in Indiana because that's how bad things are now. Adjusting my attitude about "the way things are" was necessary. We camped at Shades two nights and had a fantastic time--just 48 hours away in nature a mere 70 miles from home. The weather was perfect--cool in the evenings. Campground not crowded. Mostly tents. Fairly calm on Sunday, even better the next night. I loved lying in the tent and listening to the birdsong at dawn. So many calls and responses. Beautiful songs we never hear in the city. We had the rainfly off the whole time, and just took in the beautiful trees while watching the moon slowly scrape its arc across the sky. Our first night, an owl took residence in a tree above our tent, and he hooted all night. He hooted it up all night. What a delightful sound. Oh, the sounds of the forest! We enjoyed s'mores and hotdogs over the fire, the way you ought when you camp! I felt the trip did a lot for my imagination and spirit. Camping takes me back to a time long ago. Early 70s, camping with my family. I think it's a rite of passage every summer, and without it, I feel adrift.
We've been to Shades probably close to a dozen times in all seasons, but we both agreed this was the prettiest we have ever seen it. We just went a few months ago in late Winter, and it was interesting to compare the trails in Winter and Summer. In the Winter I notice "the things left behind." Fallen logs become sculptures of art that I love to photograph and study. In Spring, the wildflowers take the spotlight, drawing you closer the ground, the tiny world of mosses and blossoms. In summer, it's lush and succulent. We hit the perfect time--lush and warm but not humid and buggy!
We had fun issuing ourselves "awards" on this trip. I gave myself many. First, I started my period early the day before our departure. Camping and periods do not go well together. But I had just finished reading this fabulous book called "Adrift" by Tammi Oldham Ashcraft about a young woman who survived alone for 41 days in the Pacific Ocean. Conditions musn't be perfect and never will be, so you have to do things when you have the chance! So I gave myself a medal! Next, I did not drink a second beer after dinner. Another medal! And then I didn't eat a s'more because I was already full! Yet another medal! Larry issued himself one for coming up with a clever contraption to put a grill over the fire ring using tent stakes.
Rain was forecast for our last day, but we hiked anyway. When it started pouring on our lunch break, we considered going home instead of heading on to Turkey Run State Park. We started driving in the direction, and a storm kicked up. Getting home by 4 pm on a PTO day seemed a waste, so we decided to press on. By the time we arrived (14 miles from Shades), the skies had cleared, and we hit a trail. It was late afternoon and quite wet, but the sun's rays found their way to the canyon in dappled light and spotlights. The water flowed through Sugar Creek and the canyons. The mossy walls were emerald green. We could have sworn we were in Washington or Oregon, not Indiana. Hardly anyone was on the trails and we played in the Devil's Punchbowl and scaled rocks and boulders. It absolutely took our breath away. Therefore, we issued ourselves yet another medal for braving the rain. What a reward!
Rocky Hallow canyon right after a rain took my breath away. We loved the beauty so much that we hiked it in both directions. And practically had the whole trail to ourselves!
Rainfly off--view of trees overhead in this peaceful park.
One of many Trash Pandas who raided our campsite day and night. This one nearly jumped in the car. It managed to abscond with a bag of trail mix!
