— Bonnie Friedman
Each moment I spend at the new house the more in love I fall.
Last night we stood on the deck and gazed at the stars. The Milky Way was amazingly bright and every star in the sky shone with a clarity I've never seen. There were more stars in the sky than I recall ever seeing, a testament to the absolute remoteness of our new locale. Hubby had the electric company cut power to the security light near the house, thank goodness. There is nothing uglier than the pus-yellow colored light of a dusk-to-dawn bulb on a telephone pole. Complete darkness is what I like. That's one of the reasons we moved so far out, the seclusion.
At dusk last night we watched an egret fly lazily from our woods to our pond, passing in front of the deck, not at all mindful or even aware of our presence so close to his flight path. This morning I spotted a pair of bright little bluebirds, their jewel-like bodies swooping and soaring, dancing to the low, murmuring call of mourning doves and melodious songs of robin, cardinal, meadowlark. I put bluebird nest boxes on the ever-growing list of Things To Do, right beneath the Make and Install Bat Boxes entry.
A corner of my front yard has sprouted blue, yellow, orange wildflowers mingling with the wispy, pale blades of fescue grass. I may leave them be, perhaps even add a few more native wildflower seeds to the patch.
Am I loving the mess in the house? The 1/4 inch of dust suffocating every flat surface above eye level? Nope. Not in the least. But the mess is swiftly losing the battle to my always merciless cloth, sponge, scrubber and bottle of bleach. Hubby and a friend spent the day painting the living room a lovely toasted coconut and the dining room a delicious lemon basil. It is gorgeous! He also played my pool boy for a bit and vacuumed the pool, but it's still a sickly green. I think the filter needs a'changin' and the chlorine needs a'boostin'.
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