Spring is here and part of my mind is on the cleaning. Notice I say part.
From Webster (on the web): pärt
Interesting that when I tapped on the pronunciation it only said “art.” I didn’t hear the “p.” Selective listening? Perhaps. I am told by those I love that I have lost my filters. Recent hearing tests indicate that I have hearing loss. Maybe my Ps and Qs are on the way out as well?
Back to Webster. Plural – parts Synonyms of part
1a (1): one of the often indefinite or unequal subdivisions into which something is, or is regarded as, divided and which together constitue the whole.
Lately projects begun with time tables and intention have led down lanes of memories with a little mystery thrown in. My efforts at Spring cleaning are a prime example. What started with the idea of a quick fix has turned in to a “well, maybe by October.” For the past few years I have imagined moving a bed of perennials closer to the house where I can see and enjoy them. So on a sunny day a week ago I grabbed a shovel and commenced bed prep.
Much to my archeologist-at-heart delight I unearthed some kind of a stone wall/bed/walkway thingy. There is also some kind of what appears to blue gray ash; probably coal. Further investigation by my seven year old grandson unearthed bits of pottery and old glass. And the cleaning out of a new flower bed is on hold. The boy is returning with his metal detector for a deeper understanding of this mystery. There is speculation about what the site may reveal about the history of this old house with plenty of hopes of buried treasure and fears of buried bones.
Research has suggested that if apple trees were in blossom the good bugs and pollinators were safely into their life cycle and I could move the leaves that protected their winter habitat. Having been stalled on the bed building and confirming that the local orchard had blossoms on their apple trees I began the Spring clean up of the yard.
Upon raking the side of a hill under forsythia bushes ready to bloom I discover the “lid” to a ceramic pot I had made 30 or so years ago. The green man lives! And I am more than a little amazed that my creation has endured two homes and so many seasons.
Also in the mounds of leaves and bracken was the remains of another garden pot project. It is also still fairly intact; still able to perform its intended function to be buried in the garden and filled with water to leach at root level. I haven’t planted such a garden in many years so have no need for root watering but part of me says there is another purpose for this relic. Perhaps a toad hall or frog pad is in order. The making is already taking shape in my brain.
I was heavily into clay when I crafted the pot. I was raising two kids, working full time, recent owner of my first home and taking night classes to complete my degree. Those memories, like the glaze on the green man, have faded but concrete evidence remains.
I have been blessed with the memories of love and warmth from more than a few beings but none as currently poignent as the ones of a precious grandpuppy. She left us after 15 years of unbounded joy of life and unconditional love for her humans. Part of my heart she took with her, but the part of her that she left behind will be forever etched in my heart and mind that was made richer and fuller for having had the honor of her love.
Seasons change. Time passes. But the heart and mind hold on to that which is important and precious. Part of my thoughts are on what needs or wants to be done today but a good part of me wonders as I wander……Oh, that’s a song…🎶
swansroost 