The larks still bravely singing fly.

For all those who gave their life to protect our freedom.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks still bravely singing fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the dead: Short days ago,
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved: and now we lie
In Flanders fields!

Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you, from failing hands, we throw
The torch: be yours to hold it high
If ye break faith with us who die,
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

(John McCrae)

Nesting on Spinnaker Trail

Hard to believe we moved into this house six weeks ago. The house looks as though we've lived here for years. One of the front garden beds has been totally transformed, and will soon have a flagstone patio along with the new tree, bushes and flowers. The other front bed will be transformed once the blue jays have hatched and left the nest, but the area around their nesting bush is being prepared for perennials, grasses, and the tree that will eventually replace the bush. 

My veggie and herb garden is well on its way, and the pots of flowers on the deck are blooming and spilling over the sides, and the lemon tree is showing signs of fruit. Yesterday we hung lights on the patio downstairs, and even though we agreed not to try to tackle the backyard this year, I'm finding it really hard to resist. 

I'm cooking and baking again, so much so the refrigerators and freezers are full. I guess the blue jays aren't the only beings nesting here on Spinnaker Trail.

The Bathtub Saga

This is the kind of thing I'll read later and delete, but in the meantime, I need to vent.

We bought a house in April that has a jetted tub. I'm the kind of person who uses a jetted tub. I know most people say they prefer showers over baths, or they never use their bathtub, but I do. A lot. Having a big bathtub, preferably jetted, was on our list of "wants" when we were house-hunting.

Since the day we closed escrow, I've been trying to clean the tub. When the jets are on, black gunky stuff comes out. I've tried everything imaginable and it doesn't get better. I've looked online and tried every suggested remedy. I've purchased special cleaners, all to no avail.

Finally I called the home warranty company. It hasn't been a pleasant couple of weeks where they're concerned. Essentially they don't care that the tub isn't useable. Their latest is that it is "maintenance" and they don't cover maintenance. There have been so many other things related to the bathtub they've told me they don't cover, I've come to believe they don't cover anything at all. Home warranties are just things sellers buy and offer, but they really don't mean a damn thing. If something breaks or doesn't work or isn't useable, you're essentially on your own.

And yes, I do understand that this is a first-world problem. But it's a problem for me nonetheless. I'm pissed and all I really want to do is go take a long soak in the tub and have the jets soothe the tension right out of me. But I can't. Because it isn't useable. 

Spring Discoveries and Progress

Today, while Frank and I were pruning trees and Doug was putting the final coat of paint on the front door, we talked about how lucky the former owners of our house were that it sold in March. Now that the trees, shrubs, etc., are coming out of dormancy, it is evident how little care they took of them.

That isn't to say care was absolutely necessary. Many of the plants and trees on our property are low maintenance. They'll do better (we hope), once they're properly pruned, and all the muck (pine needles, leaves, mulch, trash) that has built up for years is cleaned out from under and around them.

It was hard to tell what some of the plants were back in March and April. Thus with spring, comes discovery. On a positive note, there is beautiful lilac budding that I can see through the kitchen window. Three or four other lilacs (we think) are in various stages of budding and dying. The dying part is sad, but at least we know now what we're dealing with.

The burberries have come alive better than I imagined. The four that were planted in the small bed near the garage have been thinned to two, with grasses, rock roses, spireas, and penstemons planted around them. Part of our progress is doubling the size of that bed and clearing out the rest of the area to put in a flagstone patio. 

My primary job this weekend has been pine needle clean-up. Again, it doesn't appear they did so very often. I think there are at least twenty bags of needles out front, and more than twenty bags worth still to be raked. 

The yucca plants are my biggest challenge. There are years worth of leaves, needles and trash clogging them. Not to mention the dead stalks. We probably have twenty scattered around the front and back yard. When they're healthy, I don't mind them. The way they look now, I detest them. It'll likely take me most of the summer to get to them all, and I may not this year. That's what next year, and the year after that are for.

The most unexpected development, the most exciting for me, is that we've carved out a niche for a vegetable garden. There is a raised bed with a southwest exposure that is narrow, but long. It gets a decent amount of sun throughout the day, but especially in the afternoon. It will give the vegetables the heat they need. If the somewhat small bed is successful, there is plenty of space in that area for us to build more raised beds and expand our crop next year. Another bonus is there is a drip system already in place that will merely need to be tapped into. 

I love gardening. It's likely apparent by this post. My grandfather had a vegetable garden the size of a football field. It was perfectly tilled, planted, and harvested each year of my childhood. The gifts that garden gave our family were not only those of nourishment. They're memories. There wasn't just a vegetable garden, my grandfather had various other gardens scattered around our property. The rock garden was one of my favorites. There is the beginning of a rock garden here too. 

I told Doug today that the front of the house was looking very "garden-y" (in a good way, I added). There are containers set here and there, filed with perennials, annuals and herbs. There is a new tree planted just outside Charlotte's study window. It's a service berry, and if you've never seen one, google it. It's beautiful. In a couple weeks the "manicured" bush in what will eventually be a terraced bed, will be replaced by a multi-trunk maple. I'm hoping by the time the tree is delivered and planted, the blue jays nesting in the manicured bush will be ready to leave it. If they're not, I'm not sure what we'll do. 

There are so many unexpected "discoveries" with this house. I knew I loved it the first time we looked at it, but every day there is something new uncovered that I love even more. 

Transitions

I opened and read the last Prairie Winds Elementary School newsletter I'll ever read. I also printed the form for Beck to attend the middle school transitions classes. As I look ahead at the calendar, I see that in less than a month Frank and Doug will be on their way to California for a quick four-day college tour trip. And last week I got an email about senior pictures and when they're due for yearbook inclusion.

How did this happen? How did all these years fly by so quickly?

I say that Frank's transition from high school to college is made easier because Beck has six more years ahead of him. But it isn't true. I'm freaking out (more than a little) that Frank's life will be changing so drastically a year from now. He's freaking out too, and I wish he wasn't. Perhaps my insistence that life won't be so different, and that this will still be his home, and he'll be home a lot for vacations, etc., isn't ringing true. Maybe he's sensing the insincerity of my assurances. It isn't as though I don't mean them, it's more that I'm feeling the same way he is.

The boys have eight days left in this school year, and then we'll transition into summer. Last night Frank told me he isn't teaching swim lessons this summer. He's going to lifeguard, when he wants to, and otherwise do what he wants to do. I'm all for it. He's going to hate not getting much of a paycheck, but he'll have the rest of his life to worry about that. And we have six more years before we truly have to face empty-nestedness. Thank God for periods of transition.

What First?

Prior to closing, prior to moving into a new house you look at the photos again and again and again, planning what you're going to do "the day you move in." At least that's what we did. There were things that were our top priority, that have since fallen pretty far down the list. Things we didn't even consider have either already happened or are scheduled to be.

Granduer is the biggest problem, I think, followed by budget. (She laughed out loud.) But what first? Granted there wasn't a lot that needed to be done to this house. The former owners only lived here part of each year, and kept it immaculate. However, there are things we want to do to make it ours. 

We've decided we can only tackle the front yard this year . . . which is exactly opposite of what we originally planned. In the past couple days Doug ripped out an Aspen stump that was the focal point of the area near the front door because of the handprints, probably those of their grandchildren, that were painted or carved into it. Things like that are only dear to those whose handprints they belong to. To us it was an eyesore. I also pruned a bush near the front door that I had no idea what it was, until I pruned enough of it to find a tag telling me it's an Oregon Grape. At least I was able to look online and see what it was supposed to look like . . . which it now is pretty close.

Much of the rest I thought I'd prune can't be done yet. It's still too difficult to determine what is dead and what is still hibernating. So we wait. The manicured bush in the front yard will wait too, until we figure out what to replace it with, or how to redo the bed to our liking (it was also on the first week chopping list).

Inside, the dishwasher I thought I'd replace in the first few days works perfectly fine, but the replacement for the cooktop I thought would be suitable arrives next week.  

I'm still struggling to clean the jetted tub, which only seems to spew MORE disgusting black stuff rather than less. It is quickly becoming my bane given how badly I want to use to soothe my tired bones.

Each day I think "let's do this," only to walk around and find something else to do instead. First world problems, right? The truth is I love this house. We haven't lived here a month, yet it is home. It's comfortable, beautiful, and we're really fortunate that we found it. 

Soon the things that drive me crazy today will be things I no longer notice, the way that happens until you decide it's time to sell the house, and then you go back and wonder why you didn't do it years before so you could be the one to enjoy it rather than the people who will move in next.

College Tours and Oysters

Plans have begun for college tours. Frank's number one pick, currently, is Berklee School of Music, where he's attending a music production workshop this summer. He's also already enrolled in their online program. Once he's seen it, and toured it, and talked to an admissions advisor, it may very well remain number one. In the meantime, he's considering his options should he not get in.

He's already seen Colorado State, CalPolySLO and UC San Diego, none were the right fit. CalPoly felt right, but now that he's narrowed down his major, it no longer does.

He's going to visit a couple schools in Tennessee, two in California, UCD, and maybe UoT@Austin. I'm handling the east coast/Tennessee tours, Doug is handling California. We'll have to juggle a bit to get to Austin, because Doug and I both want to go.

I'm so excited for Frank, because he is so excited. It isn't everyone who starts college knowing what they want to do the rest of their lives. Many change their mind part way through. That may happen with Frank too, but for now, he's following his dream.

While he's at the workshop, I get to explore Boston, a place I visited frequently in my early twenties. I'm considering Airbnb, which should allow me to save money, while also allowing me a different perspective from the standard hotel trip.

I haven't figured out yet where we'll stay while in Tennessee. One friend suggested we stay anywhere that has a pool (given we'll be there mid-July). I'm open for suggestions if anyone has one or two.

This is definitely a parent perk . . . getting to see the wide open world of possibilities and opportunities through our childrens' eyes. I can't wait for Beck to figure out what he wants to explore, consider and visit. 

The world is Frank's oyster, which he with sword shall open, while I live vicariously and enjoy.