Sylvia's Journal

The squirrel house is clean again, as clean as it can get, being open to nature in too many ways. I had to chase one little mouse that was still living there and I am sure will move back in again as soon as the dust settles. I am quite proud of my work, with everything having a place to sit, hang or stand. I threw out old and very greasy copper oil cans, handmade tin cans, also greasy and other stuff that Axel wanted to save (“it’s old and maybe worth something!”). That may have been true but it would also become a project to make it suitable for sale; we have enough projects already. With that he agreed, and we tossed everything in the garbage can.

While I was busy with the shed, Axel was downstairs in the basement trying to get the mold under control so he can set up his work area for cutting and assembling his graphic design school assignments without his lungs seizing up. On that beautiful 10+ day he walked around in yellow slickers with a facemask as if he was part of a chemical spill cleanup crew. He also had to throw things out that we had held onto for much too long. We will have the largest garbage pile of the neighborhood tomorrow.

The next chore was getting the plants ready for going inside, which requires the cleaning of pots and the removal of bugs, spider sacks and dead leaves. It also requires creating space for them inside, which triggers off a whole other set of tasks. Winterizing is one long series of self-generating tasks and we dread it each year. Last year we had much of it done for us because we were still somewhat handicapped, but now we have no excuse.

In the middle of all this we were interrupted by Chicha’s loud barking to announce the arrival of 4 kayaks with friends inside them who had landed on our beach for a visit. It is nice to be visited from the ocean side of our house rather than from the driveway and it doesn’t happen very often. They were doing the right thing being on the water. We sat on the beach for awhile, with four people tossing sticks for Chicha to fetch. She was in seventh heaven with all that attention.

The last chore of the day was planting the tulip bulbs at the family grave. The planting of the grave is a bi-annual ritual that involves a toast of vodka to the ancestors; Axel thanks them for all they have done for him and I thank them for having produced Axel. We pour some of the vodka over Penny and Herman’s grave as we know they would have liked that. We don’t pour any alcohol over the grandparents gravestone as grammie would definitely not have been pleased.

We stopped at Diane’s house on the way back with something soothing for the throat. Diane was one of our most dedicated caretakers last summer and fall, with her soups and organizational skills. She had returned from the hospital where, in her own words, she had her throat slit for some operation that we hoped to get more details on. But we did not find her home.

Back home we tried to ignore the clutter and the diminished space as a result of the plant invasion and set to cooking our meal which from now on will always have to include Swiss chard as we have so much of it. The internet helps. Last night was a warm chard/raison/walnut salad. Today will be a subcontinent meal fashioned around dhal and a (chard) sag.

But before that, Nuha and I plan to fly over Essex county where I will show her one of the most beautiful landscapes I know, a far cry from sandy Saudi Arabia.