It is a drizzly spring morning after a night of solid rain, the windows are open, and I’m wearing one of my husband’s shirts to keep the chill off.

The perfect weather to me, this, and it really, really might mean I should live in Seattle rather than in Texas, so as to have more of it. The thing that stops me though, is the question on if it’s rarity here is what leads to my appreciation of it? If it drizzled all the time, would I love it as much? It’s the concept of the cherry blossoms being appreciated in Japanese culture not just for their beauty, but also for their transience. It has a name, its called “Mono no aware.”

We have crepe myrtles that bloom profusely 9 months out of the year here, and sometimes they stop visitors in their tracks. For us? The locals? Eh… that? That’s just a crepe myrtle, you know? And so… it’s probably like that. I enjoy the novelty of a drizzly morning with a cool breeze when I can get it, knowing it may not happen again for a long time.

We had storms overnight, nothing too bad, but I did lots and lots of gardening in the run up to the start of the rainy days that were coming. I finished the vegetable garden in the marked off area my husband was going to put another brick patio for his BBQ pit. I hauled in bag after bag of soil and compost (the area was all sand) and got 3 rows of black sesame seeds planted next to the tomatoes and banana peppers, as well as the zinnias and cosmos seeds in.

I then put some upright branches through the whole thing. This is an English technique called “pea sticks” and is to keep floppy plants from breaking. Its way more attractive than tomato cages or rows of twine held up by t-posts. (Not a strong enough support for the actual tomatoes though, unfortunately). The pea sticks are VERY needed to keep the cosmos from breaking- I do it every year for them- so I just extended it to the rest of the vegetable garden to also serve as “jerk dog” protection.

(that’s a picture from online, mind you, but it illustrates what I’m talking about without me having to go out in the drizzle for a picture of mine.)

It does depend on having some trees around that fairly often cast off branches. Lucky me… I have pecans in the side yard, so there isn’t a shortage of fallen branches in this neck of the woods.

For me, the main benefit to them is they basically serve as anti-tank devices, like the ones from WW2.

Things can have more than one purpose, don’t I know it.

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In other “prep for the upcoming prolonged rain” news, I realized my brother in law had not covered my husband’s barbecue grill last time he’d used it… so I needed to put the custom cover back on. As it had been crumpled up behind the pit for over a month now, it was covered in leaves and stuff, and I worried about bugs. Justifiably, because I got bitten by a little spider as soon as I tried to pick it up. It looked to be a cross between a jumping spider and some other cute, furry spider with a bigger abdomen than jumping spiders usually have. It was rust red on the abdomen, I think. Maybe darker legs?

She was cute. It wasn’t her fault I scared her. I didn’t smash her, and I let her go on her way and shook her off the cover. It didn’t hurt as badly as a wasp sting, didn’t turn red or swell, and faded by the time I had the cover fully on the pit, so I just… shrugged my shoulders and didn’t do anything about it besides wash it when I got back inside.

I mention this all now because we really should find that spider and study it because my right hand has zero stiffness in my fingers today. Like… its a marked difference to my left hand. I don’t THINK I have arthritis, but am totally willing to accept I have some stiffness, normally. And yet my hand feels 100% right now, no stiffness at all- it might be my hand from back in high school, you know? Wonder how long this will last?

I can picture the exasperation when scientists interview me to try to find this little spider. “What did it look like?”

“It was cute.”

A cure… lost to medical science forever, unfortunately.

And don’t look at me like that, I know what the dangerous spiders look like around here and it wasn’t one of those… I’m not completely cavalier about a spider bite.

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I cut all the roses ahead of the storms too- so every room in the house has small little nosegays (there’s a fucking name) of short stemmed antique roses in it. The entire house smells heavenly.

The roses ball (hold moisture, turn brown, and don’t open properly) if the buds get wet, so cutting them and bringing them in is the only thing to do when a storm is a comin’. I’m not mad about it.

And, all together like that, it really hammers home the difference in rose scents. Roses can have 5 official scents- Old Rose, Myrrh, Tea, Fruit, and Musk.

“Old Rose” is the kinda classic rose smell. Warm, sweet, and a bit spice smelling.

“Myrrh” is the more clove, cardamon smell but can edge to woodiness. (I have a LOT of trouble telling Old Rose from Myrrh, fyi)

“Tea” is what you find in more modern roses, and can smell like tea leaves and has a very floral undertone. A stupid way to describe it, I know… “flower smells like flower” but here we are, and it does in fact smell exactly like that. This one is my least favorite, though I can still appreciate it. A “greener” note to the scent, when compared to Myrrh.

“Fruit” can be anything from peach to blackberry undertone, and is a jammy/ fruity/ sweet scent.

And “Musk” is the more complex, dark room, rose candle smell with maybe a hint of smokiness and or nutmeg under there somewhere.. edging towards cloying. Interesting detail- for musk roses the scent is produced in the sepals, not in the petals as is found in all the other rose scents, so you have to get your nose closer in the bloom to get the full effect.

In all five of those there is huge variability, they can combine, and you can run across any of those with a peppery undertone to them- which I really like, those peppery notes. A peppery Musk rose is to DIE for, in my opinion, though my favorite is the scent on our Heritage rose- which has a honey Myrrh scent, with some hints of Fruit.

I played around with both the color and scent combos of the cut roses when I was arranging them. It was fun, in the modern way things are “fun” for me, these days. Not the heights of joy as in the past, but still there and appreciated when I find it, if you catch my drift.

The ONLY rose I grow with no scent is Belinda’s Dream and as it has the most perfect and HUGE bubble gum pink flowers on it all through the year, she earns her place in the garden. But she just squeaked by on that because seriously… why have a rose and then not have a scent from it?!

Look at that gorgeous free loader, barely earning her spot. I stuck one of her scentless flowers in each of the arrangements I made, as filler.

I take my roses VERY seriously, don’t you know.

Here’s how seriously I take them.

The first presentation I ever gave in my life (outside of middle and high school) was about antique roses at the garden center I worked at in college, as a part of the customer education events they did during the summers. I was nervous about it, having never done it before, so I practiced and practiced and practiced. The night before the presentation my husband (then fiancé) shook me awake and said: “You just gave your ENTIRE rose presentation in your sleep. It was really good. You’ll do fine tomorrow.” Bless that man, you know? He let me get through the entire thing, too.

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In non garden news, the bathroom creeps towards completion. At least the painting is done now. I went with a soft terracotta-esque pink… a color which I wouldn’t have done while my husband was alive. But I think it’s pretty. And so… why not. The sink cabinet is still sitting in the middle of my bedroom, being infuriating. And the trim boards are not on yet. But ever closer to a completed bathroom remodel and then never again. You hear?!

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I was using this vintage mug the other day and wondered if I should get one with stacks of money on it, so to as manifest that into my life, too. Because the mug preceded this guy:

It’s pretty uncanny.

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My resolve to drink 3 days or less a week took a hit in March, what with all the traveling and vacations, but overall is still going well.

I do need to update this week- I did drink 3 beers yesterday early evening. It was a weird afternoon, all the girls were at friends’ houses and it had this weird lonely restlessness to it. Most Fridays it’s just herbal tea, hanging out with the girls, and then writing on grief, as I mention LITERALLY ALL THE TIME, SORRY. But this week… there was just something in the air to the afternoon. So I pulled weeds in the garden, ate dinner quickly, and then went back outside and watched the sun set over a few beers.

And then the street FILLED UP with cop cars and a firetruck with their lights on- they parked in front of my house. I had many a neighbor call to find out if I was alright. You have ONE husband die at home and they never let you forget it around here, I tell you what…

It wasn’t for us.

It was for my neighbor across the street. The eccentric old lady who was always gardening and feeding the deer pan after pan of lasagna (I still shake my head on that) is no more. She must have fallen in her back garden and died. I saw her that afternoon. She wasn’t there long.

The cops and everyone got there before anyone in the house even knew. Her daughter and the daughter’s boyfriend came out the front door to see what was up with all the lights. The cops went up to them and talked… they started crying and ran around the house to the back.

I can only assume a neighbor saw over the back fence and, not knowing the lady’s phone number, called the police first.

It was odd.

A bit later an unmarked van got there. I figured it was the funeral home. The driver got out, carrying a bag of gear, and went to talk to the crying folks on the front porch before going into the backyard. It was confirmed to me it was the funeral home shortly after, because a Spanish church song started playing before they wheeled her out and put her in the van.

They did this for my husband, too.

The funeral home here in town plays music as they take the deceased out of their home, and continues to play that person’s music all the way to the funeral home. If they don’t have anyone to ask what to play, they play Amazing Grace.

I ABSOLUTELY love that they do this.

I had Fito Olivares played for Lucas. As proud as he was of his heritage I wanted him played out to tejano music.

It seemed fitting.

My neighbor was a nice lady, who didn’t even let a walker slow her down from gardening, she was outside puttering in the garden most of the hours in the day, almost every day. I’ve often thought that would be the way I’d like to go: like Don Corleone, dying in the rows of tomato plants on a beautiful day. And that appears to be the death my neighbor got. How lucky, in the scheme of things, when looked at from a very particular angle, you know?

It started raining, soon after they drove away. As if the rain itself held off, till after she… was cared for, I guess is the term to use. And then it rained all night.

Godspeed, neighbor.

And now this street (and life in general, like seriously) can really knock it the hell off, you know?