Sherry's Garden

This was the 3th time I'd attempted to visit a new friend's garden. We became acquaintances a couple years ago and from time to time Sherry would invite me to see what she'd done at her house. I like her a lot. She is very humble, but every once in awhile she says something that makes me think this is a person worth knowing. Like mentioning off-hand "I have a lot of friends who are artists". Or, "I just finished enclosing my porch room, and I love the floor we chose". And mentioning that she's related to my speech professor from college, whom I liked very much. That she went to Italy and washed her clothes in the hotel room and hung them out the window to dry. I just plain like her.

So this morning I went to visit her garden. I took my camera because she told me about an intriguing Clematis vine that has bell-shaped blue blooms. As I walked through her house to the back, I saw she did have a lot of artist friends. The walls were covered with work. Important looking pottery and glass caught my eye. Creative touches everywhere inspired me, or to be more accurate, made me wish I tried harder in my own house.

I was at a loss for words when I walked on to her patio. I was still speechless for words though I was Oooing and Ahhhing when she handed me a generous cup of espresso. The first sip was a jolt as I hadn't expected espresso, and it was delicious.

She has raised flower beds throughout her yard, and their borders undulate in and out past the bricked patio. It is cool and lush. Roses, Lavender, Clematis, Lilac, Azalea, Hydrangea, Rhododendron, Columbine, varieties of fern, mature Wisteria, blue and white Spider Wort are the names I can think of, but there was much more. She also has a huge freeform iron sculpture, and tall cast planters holding pink daisies from South Africa. There is no direction to look that something is not growing.

Toward the back of the yard her husband and daughter were working in a nice size vegetable garden. They have a large drum composter behind their garage, and beside it, a 50 gallon? rain water collector they just installed. That really intrigued me. It is half full already, and comes with a spigot attached. They say rain water is the best for your plants; I think it's a good investment.

There are benches and garden chairs positioned here and there. Interesting art pieces, statues, and sculptures, and Green man faces added points of focus. I took two pictures and wouldn't you know it, my camera said 'battery exhausted'. Sherry said she'd let me know when her Wisteria blooms. I've not seen any since I was 12, so I look forward to that and I'd also like a better look at the art in her house, too.

Granddaddy Gallops

Since Mom was raised in Birmingham AL, but moved to Ohio when she married Dad, I never got to know her father very well. I was thinking about that and decided to write down what I know/remember about him. His name was John Fayette Gallops and he came from Georgia. (One of his brothers was named Grady.) He was very tall and had a lot of hair. We called him Granddaddy.

He worked on the Panama Canal before he married. Then he worked for the railroad running from Birmingham to Atlanta. Actually, he worked for a company, my mom once explained, that wanted him to oversee cargo that was being hauled on that train. Once he had a dog in his car. She said it was overcome by the heat and he worked and worked to come up with ways to save it, but it died. She said he felt terrible about that for a long time.

My dad said that when Mom took him to meet her parents, he overheard Granddaddy complain that he couldn't understand a thing that Yankee said.

Mom took me on a train to visit her parents when I was maybe 3 or 4? I remember a few things about that trip. I remember a black man wearing a hat with gold decorations on it walking down the aisle and giving me an egg salad sandwich wrapped in wax paper. He later turned our seats into a berth and Mom and I slept together in it with a curtain pulled across the opening.

Next I remember walking down a street (which was Alemeda Ave) and a thin little woman with black/gray hair in a bun and dark circles under her eyes, running towards us with her arms out, making a noise like she'd been hurt. It startled the shit out of me. My mom started to cry and I thought she was afraid. I also thought that it was a witch coming at us, so I cried too, but it turned out she was my grandmother. My mother called her "Mama".

When we went into their house, Granddaddy told me he had something to show me. He led me into the corner of their kitchen. There was a dead mouse in his mouse trap. He seemed pretty happy about that, but I'd never seen such a thing and felt sorry for the mouse.

I remember he held my hand and took me for a walk on a beautiful night. Mom dressed me in a pretty dress and shoes for that trip, with a tiny purse to carry. I think we road a bus too. He took me downtown and we stopped at what I thought was a theater and he bought me a paper cup of lemonade. He also stopped somewhere and let me select a toy but I don't remember what it was. I ate watermelon at their house and Granddaddy told me if I swallowed a seed I'd grow a watermelon in my belly. Oddly, I don't remember one thing about Grandmother after the "witch" incident, just a feeling that she was a kind woman.

Granddaddy came to visit us only once when I was pretty young. The biggest thing I remember about that is he left a red pill on the upstairs bathroom sink. I found it and thought it was an M&M and started chewing it. It was a bitter pill and made me vomit. He sent me a present for my high school graduation, a long strand of faux pearls.

Mom told me he was a member of the Presbyterian Church and (their) Ku Klux Klan. She said he had a white robe and hood in his closet.

He died in the early 70's; Mom, Dad and I drove to Birmingham to his funeral. Grandmother had been dead for a long time and he had remarried a woman named Minnie. Minnie buried Granddaddy in a grave where she too would be buried in the future. Mom discovered that when we were walking to the graveside. She started to cry because she had assumed/wanted her parents to be buried together. I, in my smart-aleck youth, stomped over to Minnie and her entourage to demand why the hell wasn't my granddaddy being buried with my grandmother? Mom was appalled with my behavior, but I never regretted it.

Also, after the service I took a couple flowers from an arrangement at the grave. Minnie squeaked "you're not taking flowers from the grave are you?" and to her entourage "I never saw such a thing!" I wasn't well versed on funeral etiquette, but saw nothing wrong with this. People looked shocked and I embarrassed myself, but I wouldn't back down to her and selected another. I never regretted that either.

Canoe, beaver, geese, cell phone

My son went on a little canoe trip last night. Temperature in the low 80's on a balmy evening. He was with his buddy, and they started out below Dover Dam, and stopped 2 1/2 hours later at the Wooster Ave. bridge in Dover. He said the river was low and quiet. They saw a beaver swimming and said his head was so big, he bet the beaver was as big as his dog, who weighs 60 pounds. He said they then came upon a large flock of geese, and he couldn't guess how many hundred baby geese. He said the parents raised their wings, honked, hissed and stuck their tongues out at them as they went by. Actually, there were so many he didn't know how the parents knew which were theirs. I wish I could have been there.

It sounded like a really nice evening, but as they got about 20 yards from their stopping place, he made a dumb move, and tipped into the river. He said the water felt delicious, so cool and refreshing. But he had to move fast because he had his cell phone with him. It got wet and wouldn't work. Oh, and he also lost his sunglasses.

So today, he was really upset with himself for letting that happen, and was trying to dry it out in the sun under the windshield of his vehicle. After about 3 hours in the sun, it still had condensation under the screen. So he left it sit there another 3 hours. By then the water was gone, he tested it and it started up. He didn't loose a bit of data, and knows how lucky he is on that one.

I still can't stop thinking about those baby geese.

Mom's Paring Knife

My mom used to regularly say "I couldn't live without my sharp knife". She had a little paring knife with a dark gray blade and an oval wood handle. It was almost as sharp as a razor and never needed sharpening. All my life I watched as she peeled vegetables and fruit, an expert at it. Her peelings were so thin you could almost see through them. She could peel a pound of potatoes in minutes, flicking the eyes out with a quick twist. Or an apple in a minute. She would share slices of whatever she sliced and that's how I came to know how good raw cabbage, rutabaga, and celery hearts are.

She didn't really want anyone else to use it. It was so sharp it was almost scary, and I'm sure she was afraid we'd mistreat it at some point (kind of like the time my son used my sewing shears to cut a wire, they were never the same after that). I could never attain her skill with a knife. Mine was nowhere as sharp as hers. I wanted that knife someday, but it disappeared after she got dementia.

I bought a similar one on eBay, finally, after months of searching and researching. Seems others know their value, because I bid against 7 others to get it. Turns out it was a carbon steel blade and I believe that is the secret. It will bloom with rust if not dried after use, but is always very sharp. I keep mine on my windowsill over the sink, because I want to know where it is all the time.

Auction Time

I haven't been to an auction in awhile but like everything about them. I like signing up for my bidder number, and perusing the tables, digging into the boxes, examining antiques and marveling at the beauty of old things. I like getting coffee and a gooey roll that I rarely allow myself anyplace else. My ears are open to conversations around me. I really do want to learn about antiques and the experts in our area are there. They generally keep their mouths shut. I can see their point, why give up your secrets and add competitive bidders? But others who are pretty smart are glad to tell you everything they know and more. There are, in my observation, 3 types of attendees. Those who congregate in the first 2 rows, the regulars, and the one's who stand behind the chairs, who are regulars (and share their knowledge) and the rest who seem to be irregular visitors. They are afraid to bid at first (like me).

I'm usually outbid. I'll spot maybe 3 things I really really want, but am not smart enough to know the items will go for 3-4 times my limit. It's ok. I always get a few things I'm happy with. It takes a couple hours for my adrenaline to settle, then I'm hungry for lunch. I always get soda and a coney and add everything on top including chopped onions. After lunch the heat of the day blooms. But people don't leave, they sit redfaced, backs wet and watch. The regulars in the front by now have boxes and boxes piled around their chairs.

Actually my favorite part of the auction is at the end, when they sell the rows of miscellaneous in boxes. I once bought 12 boxes, for about $3 apiece.

They really are full of useful things. Letter openers, keychains, razor blades, SOS pads, furniture polish, pot holders, jars of screws and nails, recipe books, fondue pot, perfumes, mirrors, rolls of shelf paper, can opener, incense burner & incense, wind chimes, sewing box stuffed full, bowling trophies, business envelopes, Christmas stuff, Matchbox cars, soldering iron, snack trays, electric skillet, box of paraffin, toothpick holder collection, light bulbs, ashtrays, can of WD-40, Elmer's glue, stapler, Tupperware Popsicle maker, Rosary, magnifying glass, Kodak camera, paint brushes, empty picture frames, trivets, magic markers, travel checkers game, Kleenex tissue holder, trowel, back scratcher from Florida, Dr Scholl's inserts (never been opened), dog leash and flashcubes. I love sorting through it, sharing with friends, keeping what I like and storing what I 'might need' later.

How to Build a Brick Sidewalk

I always wanted a brick sidewalk. So when I heard that a friends neighbor was giving away old paver bricks. I put dibs on them right away, surely I could build a little walkway around the side of our house? Then I realized this meant I had to haul bricks ASAP, find a place to store them until use, then figure out how in the world to do this.

So I drove my husbands truck to the lady's house and started loading bricks. They were so big and heavy I could hardly hold one in each hand. I carried them 2 by 2 to the bed of the truck and started stacking them.

When I got home I tried the wheelbarrow to move them 60 feet to the site. I was able to handle about 15 before it was too heavy to push. This wasn't working well. So I decided to carefully maneuver the truck sideways in the street, back up over the devils strip and sidewalk, and back up into the side yard, trying to miss the tree, hedges, house, flowerbeds, etc. It really wasn't that hard, just something I'd never done. Now I just had to off-load into stacks by the hedges.

I repeated these steps 3 more times, until I had gathered every brick she had. Now I started thinking about the pattern, width, supplies needed, and why the hell am I so impulsive?

I dug out the area where I wanted the walk, about 8" deep X 44" wide X 2 miles long, and wheelbarrowed about 16-20 loads of sod and soil to the compost pile 200 feet in the back yard. I am a fairly sturdy person, but this was hard work! The bricks were about 4x4x8. I figured on a base of 4" of sand, then the bricks, would make the walk pretty level with the grass.

The next week, I started looking for sand. I had no idea how much I'd need. It turned out all the playbox bags of sand had been sold out for the season in my area. Then I discovered our town has a sandpit. This place had huge mountains of rocks, gravel, sand and big machinery. I found their business trailer, parked and went in. A woman told me sand was $17.50 for a truck load. Perfect, all the sand I could need for only $17.50. She told me to drive on around the other side (she pointed to a mountain of sand behind me), and someone would help me there.

I did that, and within a minute a huge scooper machine drove up and dug into the mountain, backed up and approached the side of my truck. I started getting a little scared. The amount of sand he'd just scooped didn't look like much at all, just a corner of the scoop actually. But he raised it and drove forward until the scoop's shadow covered the truck, and started to dump it. The noise, shaking, and feeling the truck lower under the sand's weight scared me, and after just a few seconds I held my hand up to stop. Just because I wasn't sure how much I could take or the truck could take! The guy backed away and drove off.

So here I was with several tons of sand. I could tell when I put the truck into drive that this might be tricky going home. I drove very slowly and the engine whined. I started braking about 100 feet before each traffic light or stop sign. When I got home, I repeated my operation of backing into the side yard. Now I had to empty the truck (groan). Out came the wheel barrow again. Shovel, fill barrow, carry it to the plastic. I had laid out a plastic tarp because I didn't want the sand to melt into the grass. I kept that up until the truck was empty and I had an enormous sand pile.

Now my husband started getting involved. Ahem. He tried to describe how to build the base. He wanted me to make it slightly higher in the middle so water would run off. He wanted me to level and tamp the soil, then fill the area with sand and tamp it hard and smooth again, then plunk plunk plunk, lay the bricks in place. He said that would be the easiest. Oh, and to use a level going both the length and width so the angles of the bricks would be uniform.

So I leveled and tamped the soil. I lined my path with plastic so grass wouldn't grow up through the bricks. Then I filled the area with sand, tamped that, and finally it was time to start laying the bricks down. This finally felt like the fun part. I had a little stool I sat on to save what was left of my back. I'd carry 8-10 bricks to the work area, and start arranging them. Gradually it started to take shape. Carry bricks, place each one, place the level, hammer the brick (with rubber mallet) and check the level, over and over. I forgot to add I lined the walk edges with plastic landscape border as I went, kept it pushed up against the brick and stabilizing it with sand filled on the outer sides as I progressed. There might be a better way, but with the curves, this was the only method I could think of.

I got as far as the patio to the gate, about 25 feet, and stopped for the summer. I was exhausted. I still had half the walk left undone but my heart wasn't in it anymore. Except for another fun part. I threw buckets of sand over the finished bricks. When it dried out, I swept it, and the sand filled in the cracks and stabilized the bricks. It looks wonderful when it's done!

Finally, as the weather started to cool down, I bricked the rest of the walk toward the front of our house. It was one of the hardest projects I've ever attempted and it was worth the aching muscles, and swollen fingers. I go outside and walk that walk several times a day. I love how the bricks are all different earthy tones, that a little moss has established itself, that my cats use that walk, that it looks so beautiful, and that I built it all by myself for about $17.50. I counted the bricks this morning and was surprised there were exactly 400.