I currently have no less than 4 various containers, including a 7-11 coffee cup, sitting on my kitchen counter holding plants that were gifted, acquired or are in process of moving from one spot in the yard to another. I moved the butterfly bush to it’s new spot in the back yard but it’s looking awfully droopy. I wonder if I should have cut it back before I moved it. I wonder if I should chop it back now. Would that kill it? I thought they were supposed to be hard to kill. I might have a green thumb, but that thumb can turn black at any time. It’s all a giant experiment, I really have very little idea of what I’m doing out there, although my garden seems to say otherwise at times. There is a partial hole dug for the fig to move into, bags of mulch and compost scattered here and there in the yard. I did manage to plant the strawberry plants I thinned from a friend’s patch, but the hibiscus someone gave me is still sitting in a pot on the front porch with zero signs of life. I suppose I could just go set it in the sun and see what happens.
I finally got to see the building Betty has been rehabbing since her return from NYC in December. We realized we need to schedule time together weekly because entire weeks have gone by where we haven’t talked since she moved back. Which seems slightly insane, since she lives two doors down and for years we saw each other several times a day without effort. Life being what it is, even though we now have time set aside for each other on a weekly basis, sometimes other things pop up. Which happened last week and so Friday morning turned into a spontaneous adventure of the sorts we used to have all the time, just rolling with things. I had to run back home and grab my camera to capture some images after finally seeing the interior of the building that really is just up the street. I love crumbling old plaster walls, I love layers of old paint. The building is just a nondescript square box, but it has claw foot tubs, hints of pink & that green I call Southern Gothic Green that was visible through the crumbling layers and a view of Brown’s Mountain through the second floor rear windows. Some of those things won’t be there by the time construction is completed, but I always like knowing they are there, just under the surface.