Sunday, July 26, 2009

Sunday with Clouds

The back of the house with new insulation, housewrap, and no windows. Yes, the hollyhock blooms are black.

The first night without windows, their openings were covered by a somewhat translucent plastic. When I put the bedside reading lamp on that night, the moths and mosquitoes beat themselves against it, making so much noise I feared they'd succeed at getting through. The moment the light switched off, they stopped.

The next day the men fastened up the housewrap instead. It looks like heavy white plastic, so less light gets through. The insects were less attracted to my bedside lamp, but still they took a lickin' as the wrap stopped them from getting in while I lay contentedly on my bed, eating Rolo ice cream and skimming through a Ruth Rendell novel.

Yesterday was pretty much a layabout day, as two pills were required, and some sleeping, to vanquish the neck migraine. Unfortunately I awoke with it again this morning. After eating some granola with buttermilk (food sometimes helps) and coming over to the old house in hopes of catching Scott for some huggin' before he headed to town to do some painting for a customer, I was still feeling crappy but unwilling to take more medication. Instead I sat at the computer and did some online reading for about an hour, and voila! the aching neck has vanished and is now just a neck. A happy little pencil neck. A skinny long neck holding up my big head, as Scott has occasionally pointed out (thank you my dear, you make me feel so attractive).

The pup, Chloe, provided some entertainment last night when she discovered the water jetting from the sprinkler could be played with. Lord luv 'er, she's sweet. A pain in the ass she can be—dragging things onto the lawn, dragging things out from under the oak trees (where I've been putting stuff I have no place in the house for, like vases and jugs and pottery wine goblets), pestering the cats and the old dog nonstop—but she is still sweet as can be and worth putting up with. The pupness will pass. She may decimate my flowers, which pains me, but this too shall pass. She may dig in my garden to bury a treat, which pisses me off, but I still give them to her for the pure pleasure of making her happy. She is clumsy and goofy, worth a smile many times a day.


  1. I love your hollyhocks. I have one pitiful plant. It's in full bloom -- but one compared to your gazillions looks mighty pitiful. Lucky you. I hope you and your big head are feeling better.
    - Jodi

  2. But Jodi, one hollyhock this year means a half-dozen next year ... they spread like the dickens! I think hollyhocks are my favourite flower.

  3. Tried to grow hollyhocks this year, here. Nothing! They started out beautiful! then fizzled out. I wish I could throw the seeds and have them multiply!

    This was a great post, Kate! Loved it!

  4. They are a beautiful flower. They remind me of old farms and homesteads. In the way back of my mind, I think I remember seeing them on my grandparents dairy farm. My mother has confirmed this. Let's hope mine spread next year. I took a really nice picture of it in bloom. I'll post it one of these days.
    -- Jodi

  5. That's strange, Greenleaf Kate. I thought Hollyhocks were unkillable, kind of like Virginia creeper! Tips: water hollyhocks heavily. They don't like to dry out. And they like lots of sun; don't put them in a shady spot if you want them to perform spectacularly.
    It's because they're so tough and beautiful that you're right Jodi, they can be found in nearly every farmyard, and every flower-loving yard up here in the north country. I've broadcast multi-coloured hollyhock seeds so will have blooms from them next year. Love those glorious colours.


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