Thursday, March 22, 2012
Not to talk about the weather, but how can I not? Once the heavy fog burned off this morning, the day became gorgeous with the temperature hovering in that 75-80 degree sweet spot. All week we've had lovely, lovely weather. More like May than March. The henbit has already peaked. The cherry blossoms are in full swing at Joe and Joanie's house across the street.
We (meaning Robb) have already mowed the lawn once, and we (meaning me) are almost done mulching the flower beds. Once they are done I want to scrub down the siding. The north end of the house is looking pretty mildew-y. Robb wonders why I bother with some of these projects since we're renters. But I want to leave the place a little nicer than we found it. And I am optimistic about my goal to leave this house by the end of 2012. I don't really have a plan at this point, so don't scrutinize that last sentence too hard.
Would you believe that dogwoods are starting to bloom? And that's just crazy--usually the last petals are falling right before Mother's Day.
Robb is hot and heavy into his model skipjack, the Maureen Elizabeth. (He originally planned to name it the Barbara Leigh, but that curly headed little cherub bumped me off the nameplate. I see how it is.) This is a picture of me holding the rudder. Kind of looks like a cartoon meat cleaver. Anywho, Sunday is his first race, and he's super psyched.
I continue to be obsessed with a place I call "the meadow." My favorite spot in the neighborhood.
I'm always snapping photos of it. Constantly. For the past three years. (That's why Robb says our hard drive is 80% full, and I need to start migrating photo files over to the external. But it's only 4 terabytes. I'm not sure that's going to be enough.)
Recently a for sale sign cropped up at the end of the driveway. If I had a million dollars I would buy the meadow...all 17 acres and the 6,000 square foot house that sits by the water's edge. I wonder if the new owners will love this place as much as I do. (And I don't even live there.)