Tag Archives: forget-me-nots

I put that headline to warn anybody who does not like bellyaching posts.  I thought “bellyaching” was a more descriptive word than “whining,” but the pedant in me feels it is the wrong word since, for once, my belly is not aching.  I pause as I ponder the discrepancy to pour myself another cup of coffee, which may solve the whole problem.  Hey, I can hope.

It is mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, and once again I have not done much blog-worthy activity.  I could perhaps have made a Lawn Order Post, as I spent some time wrestling with my deck and back yard.  Not a lot of time.  In my defense, I am old and suffering a mysterious complaint which renders sustained movement painful (I did mention this was to be a bellyaching post) (once again, the pain is not in my belly).

NOT from my Media Library

I suddenly bestirred myself to get up and go out into the back yard and take a couple of pictures.  Here is my rhododendron, just beginning to bloom.  It is now blocked by a new tree I perhaps should have cut down when it was still small.  However, there are other trees in my yard I may want to have taken down, so perhaps I should let this one live.  I do like shade.

A little more color.

I guess I mentioned that my mower is at Collis Tru-Value Hardware being worked on (just to plug a local business).  I thought it behooved me to do the best I could with the non-power mower.  I figured I could at least get the weeds and grass mushed down a little.

By no means a large section of lawn.

This meets my cousin Mary’s criteria of “looks better than it did.”  A little at a time, I will get the whole thing looking better, and when the power mower is back I hope to get it looking  very nice indeed.  Then I will take more pictures and maybe even invite people over.

These are all over the yard.

On the way back to the house, I took a picture of some forget-me-nots.  It didn’t turn out so well, but I will have plenty of opportunity for more pictures.  Before I went inside, the dog next door on their back porch barked at me.  She often does.  If a ball has fallen into our shared driveway, sometimes I throw it for her to chase while I beat a hasty retreat.  I did so this time.  Alas that my throw was not very strong, and she returned before I had gotten far.  A young woman came out of the house while I prepared to throw the ball again.

“I always feel so bad, because she just wants to play,” I said.  “So I throw the ball, then try to escape.”

I heard her call the dog Luna as she brought her back into the house.  Now I know the dog’s name.  It’s always good to be on a first-name basis with the neighbor’s dog.

By the way, the coffee did help the headache.