Every spring here in Illinois, I do the same thing to myself - I burst through the doors on the first day where temperatures don't require down coats and head-to-toe bundling to drink in that delicious sunshine.
And every year, I'm hornswaggled (a term that I find is perfectly acceptable down here). The weather gives us a sneak peek, a tiny tidbit to get us all excited and to dig out the garden tools. And then, it happens...the temperatures drop, the pollen count explodes and it's miserable. For days. On end.
Case in point, last Saturday and Sunday were in the 50s and 60s. We spent those two days really enjoying the weather and watching the curtains flutter. We tackled the now infamous "leaf project".
Despite the weather...today, on my lunchbreak, I stepped outside in a coat and rainboots into a cold, miserable drizzle under a pale gray sky to lay down grass seed and to gently rake aside some debris burying unknown garden finds from the side of the house. My goal was to try to expose and hopefully identify some of the perennials, trees and bushes that previous owners have planted.
Once again, I embraced my A.D.D. tendencies and moved quickly along the side of the house. Daffodils, lilys, prairie grass, a few ornamental trees and a gorgeous dark green leafy ground cover that appears to vine (ivy?)... Instant gratification. I would bag the piles of ick later.
I moved on further to the back of the side yard to discover another garden. I'd reference Frances Hodgson Burnett and call it my very own Secret Garden, but the area is in plain view. Just another example of the famous saying that a man will walk straight thru the gates of hell with both eyes wide open (since we tend to ignore our senses).
Perched centrally in that garden is an old metal weathervane/windmill. I posted a picture earlier because I'm hoping that those more creative than me will be able to help me come up with a way to repurpose it into something for the birds. A feeder, a perch? Should I just make it a piece of garden art?
It's clearly something you'd see down on the farm. I would love for it to make the house pop. Color - lots of color. The Victorian Period was splashed with color.
However, our house has been resided, possibly several times, into a drab off-white. The only hints of color to the house are the red cedar wheelchair ramp off of the porch (my son three-year-old Henry calls it "the bridge"), the black shingled roof and some trimwork on the front porch in a pale green. There is also bright green Astroturf covering the whole floor of the wraparound front porch, but that's not really my idea of "color".
So, this weathervane/windmill-a-ma-bob is ample enough in size that I can place it somewhere in the yard to add some eye candy.
One of my best girlfriends introduced me to spray paint not so very long ago. I keep finding things around the house that are begging to be primed and painted. I've sampled reds, blues and greens, a stony-finish taupe. Not sure where to start with this thing. I see endless possibilities. Hubby, no doubt, sees it as something he's going to have to help me haul out of the garden bed.
No matter - the weather will not get me down. Ok - honestly? It will. But only for a short time. Because I know something that only people who have spent a fair amount of time in Illinois know: if you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes because change will undoubtedly come.
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