Last week Clif and I painted and decluttered in preparation for the arrival our eldest daughter Dee, who will be staying with us until her office reopens, probably sometime in September.

Dee can work remotely from Winthrop as well as from Brooklyn. After a year and a half of not seeing her, we are delighted to have Dee stay with us for as long as she can. With the Covid variant spreading across the country, we figured it was better to have her come to Maine sooner rather than later—August was the original plan. Right now, trains and buses to and from New York City are still running, but for how long? Things might shut down again if Covid gets really bad. So yesterday, we collected Dee in Portland and brought her home.

Staying here for a couple of months is much different than staying for a week, the way Dee usually does. For such a short time, living out of a suitcase is no hardship, but for a couple of months it is another matter.

There is a closet in the guest room. However, it was stuffed with clothes I no longer wanted but couldn’t bring myself to give away. Also, the brown doors didn’t open well.

First order of business for Clif: Remove the doors and shave a bit from the bottom so that they can open easily. While the doors were off, he said, “Maybe I should paint them white and give them a fresh look.”

Good idea. While Clif did that, I sorted clothes and cleaned the closet. When I was done, the closet was empty, and there were many bags of clothes to go to Goodwill.

Clif and I regarded the scuffed walls of the empty closet.

“Paint that, too?” I asked.

“Yup,” Clif replied, and the inside of the closet got a  coat of paint.

From there, it was on to a small white night stand with drawers tucked in the basement. Perfect to go next to the bed. However, the top looked especially bad.

“Paint the top?” I asked.

Clif painted the top, but then the sides and the drawers with ugly yellow flowers looked horrible.

“Paint the whole thing?” I suggested.

After I sanded off the flowers, Clif painted the whole stand.

And what about the old clunky drawer pulls? Those had to go, and off we went to Lowe’s to buy some sleek black drawer pulls to go with the newly painted stand.

The room looked pretty darned good as Clif noted. Except for the corner with the open metal files containing documents from twenty years ago. Away went most of the documents—I did keep a few folders—and out went the stand to the side of the road. The yellow free sign did the trick, and the stand was gone by nightfall.

Readers might recall that this spring when we bought new chairs for our patio table, the twenty-year-old umbrella looked so shabby that it needed to be replaced. This was a prime example of the “Diderot Effect,” named for the famous French philosopher and what happened when he got a new dressing gown. You can read about it here.

As with the patio, so with the guest bedroom.

Phew, what a lot of work. But it was all done with heart, and how satisfying to get rid of the clutter.

Now, onward to August and to time on the patio.

Finally, here are a few photos of flowers I took last week in between cleaning and sorting.

A busy, busy weekend for Clif and me, two homebodies who live on the edge of the woods. And we never went farther than two miles from our home. (Of course, it does help when people come to your house.)

On Thursday—not technically the weekend but close enough—three new friends came for lunch, and the weather, not too hot, not too cold, allowed us to eat on the patio. Very nice getting to know these three.

On Friday, Clif and I headed to van der Brew for a rousing night of Trivia led by Nick the Librarian. We were joined by friends Claire and Lori, and what fun we had. As usual, a few times, we talked ourselves out of the right answers. (I still feel bitter over Berlin and Beyoncé, when the answers should have been Moscow and Alicia Keys.) But despite our missteps, we had enough points to finish in the middle of the pack, and we were pretty darned happy about that.

On Sunday, our friends Alice and Joel came over for a barbecue of patties made from Beyond Burger, which they agreed tasted like regular hamburgers. Alice and Joel were so impressed that they indicated they would be looking for Beyond Burger when they go grocery shopping. Naturally, we finished the day by solving the world’s problems. Good of us, isn’t it?

Over the weekend, the temperature dropped to 60°F and it rained. Normally, this would be a bummer for a holiday weekend, but after the extreme heat and the drought, it felt like a blessed event.

My new rain gauge collected an inch-and-a-half of water. The gardens should be happy for a few days, anyway.

Gray skies and rain make a perfect combination for photos of white flowers.

And here’s a bonus picture, taken before the rain came, of a lily and the world.

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Nifty posts from blogging friends far and near:

Lavinia, of Salmon Brook Farm, wrote a poignant farewell to her beloved cat Hope.

Going Batty in Wales featured an oh so magical round house, much of which was built from recycled materials.

Thistles and Kiwis was greeted with a beautiful sky on the morning of her birthday.

Ju-Lyn, of Touring my Backyard, has posted mouth-watering pictures of hawker noodles.

On Suzanne’s Mom’s Blog there are some deep and insightful thoughts about Independence Day, better known as Fourth of July.

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Finally, the return of a  feature I know you’ve all been waiting for—well, maybe some of you more than others—the video of a song I’ve been listening a lot to lately. “Road to Nowhere” by Talking Heads came out in 1985. Still seems appropriate.

As Stephen Foster once put it, this is the merry, merry month of May. The grass is greening, the dandelions are blooming, and the birds are singing.

For Mainers who garden, it is also the busy, busy month of May. In northern New England, spring is a rushed affair. By the time mid-June rolls around, the gardens are so well established that you had better have all the composting, fertilizing, and moving of plants done or you are out of luck and out of time.

To add to the merriment, I am also in the thickets of At Sea, Book Four in my Great Library Series. My current podcast story is winding down, but I’m still working on it. Then there is blogging, and while the writing is more casual, I spend a fair amount of time on each post, even fluff ones such as my Friday Favorites.

In my younger days, I could have managed it all and still have energy leftover for night-time projects. I kid you not. Once the children were in bed, I used to do fun little things like, say, paint cupboards or clean out a closet. As I look back at my younger self, I marvel at how much energy I had. Now that I am a senior, evenings are spent watching an hour or two of television before going to bed far earlier than I ever would have imagined when I was in my twenties or thirties.

This is a roundabout way of explaining that I will no longer be blogging three days a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Instead, I am cutting back to Monday and Wednesday for the foreseeable future. Having an extra day to work on my book will be a big help. And who knows? Some rainy day, I might even be able to clean out a closet. We’ll see. Books, podcasts, and gardening always seem take precedence.

I will still be reading and commenting on other blogs. Such a wonderful community and a real source of comfort during the past year, which has been scary and lonely and just plain stressful.

Also, on Mondays, I will continue featuring posts from other blogging friends. I enjoy looking outward as well as inward, and it is my pleasure to share posts from folks near and far. Formerly, I did this on my Friday posts, and I decided it was a feature I want to keep even though I am cutting back.

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So here are some  posts from blogging friends near and far:

On the green banks next to green water, Clover and Ivy found a lone goose to add more atmosphere to this already moody picture.

On Thistles and Kiwis, along with the usual photos of mouth-watering food, is a photo of a tree with foliage so glorious it made my heart leap.

Ju-Lyn, of Touring my Backyard, takes a detour that brings her to some wonderful, funky public art.

This week, on a lovely day in May, we received the first farm share delivery from our very own Farmer Kev, a young farmer extraordinaire and a friend of the family. Farmer Kev has a farm and co-op and delivers a mix of things that he grows as well as items “from away,” as we Mainers would put it. From his co-op, you can order an astonishing range of items ranging from eggs to tofu to nondairy cream cheese.

Here is a picture of Farmer Kev.

Sometime this summer, I hope to go to his farm, take pictures, and do a short interview with him for the blog.

In the meantime, here is a picture of what was delivered on Tuesday.

The greens are from his farm, and I immediately wash, spin, and package them so that they are ready to eat whenever we want to make a salad.

The other vegetables are from away, but they taste amazingly fresh and delicious.

We have paid ahead for four seasons of Farmer Kev’s Organic, and I can’t think of a better way to spend the money.

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I came of age in the 1970s during the time of the great singer-song writers—Carole King, James Taylor, and Joni Mitchell. The Rolling Stones were going strong. Ditto for David Bowie. In short, folk and rock are in my DNA. This is the music of my youth, and I still love it.

However, luckily for me, I have children who came of age in the 1990s, and what a time for music it was. As with so many things, my girls broadened my musical horizons, and it didn’t take me long to become a big fan of alternative rock—Counting Crows, REM, Pearl Jam, and Sister Hazel.

So here’s a trip back to the 90s with Sister Hazel. At the risk of sounding nostalgic, I do have yearnings for the time when gas was less than $1 a gallon, and climate change was still just a blip on the horizon (I know, I know. climate change was there, and we should have been paying attention.) Authoritarianism seemed to be on the wane, and there was even a book published called The End of History. (Again, I know, I know.) The 90s also saw the rise of independent cinema along with the rise of alternative music.

I could go on extolling the virtues of the 90s, But I’ll stop and leave you with “All for You” by Sister Hazel. I hope you enjoy this trip down memory lane.

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Simple pleasures and favorites from blogging friends:

It’s fall in New Zealand, and this week on Thistles and Kiwis, yellow calla lilies and crunchy leaves are celebrated. And rightly so.

The pandemic has been with us for well over a year, and I think for many of us, even the homebodies, it has been crushing at times. But with the vaccines there are glimmers of light, and on Piglet in Portugal, there is a rejoicing in going and out and about again.

In Something over Tea, there is a lovely floral surprise to brighten the day.

In Touring My Backyard, Ju-Lyn finds “respite in running, in nature.”

The last day of April, and there is a steady rain, much needed as the month has been dry enough for there to be fire warnings. For us, the rain couldn’t have come at a better time. A day or two ago, Clif removed moss from the roof of our little shed and added it to our moss garden. I have read that moss needs to be watered regularly for it to take, and there is no watering like a steady rain.

Here is a picture of the moss garden to date. Regular readers will notice what we have added—a cement lantern, which we had put in a  side garden. As a result, the lantern was mostly unseen. Clif and I thought it was time for the lantern to come out front and shine.

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Readers who are fans of the wonderful The Great Pottery Throwdown will recognize the man in the picture below. His name is Peter White, and he was one of the potters in Season 4, which ended not long ago. For me, he stands out among the other potters—all who are excellent in their own way—because of his age and his willingness to learn new things. Peter turned 70 not long ago, and a clip on the Throwdown featured him expressing his desire to keep learning, no matter how old he is.

His attitude both inspires me and captures the way I feel about writing, which I have been doing for a long time. Nevertheless, even though I am not young, I always seek to be a better writer. Peter, who was not at the top of the pack at the beginning of Season 4, exemplified how being open and willing to learn can go a long way toward improvement.

And for those who have not seen Season 4, well, you will just have to watch for yourselves to see how far Peter rose.

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As for music…hot off the Tiny Desk (Home) Concert press—Lake Street Dive!

Rachel Price, the lead vocalist, has such a wonderful voice that it gives me the shivers. Her voice is smooth without being cloying or overly sentimental. Wowsah, that woman can sing!

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Favorites and Simple Pleasures from Blogging Friends:

For sheer lovleliness and wisdom, Xenia Tran’s Tranature is an oasis in a harsh, often chaotic world. One of her posts this week—Puente Poetry: Presence—captures the sadness and beauty of living.

Alys, from Gardening Nirvana, chronicles how her spider plants went from being indoor plants to thriving outside in her garden in sunny California. (New Englanders, do not try this at home.) She then goes on to compare the plants to bloggers. Alys concludes “You follow bloggers, they follow you, and before you know it, you’ve found a community.” Absolutely, and how wonderful.

Amanda, from Something to Ponder About, writes in praise of solar energy. In Australia, where she lives, “1 in 5 houses now produces energy from solar systems.” And this includes her own house. Yay!

Among other delights, in This Week’s Small Pleasures, Thistles and Kiwis features tall evergreens against a bright blue sky. To this Mainer, there is no finer sight.

In Touring my Backyard, Ju-Lyn rejoices in sunshine after a rainy spell. And perhaps even more important, getting her first vaccine. Great news, Ju-Lyn!

Spring, as chilly as usual, has unfurled itself in Maine. And for me, not a moment too soon. As I have discussed with some of my blogging friends, I seem to be in a funk where nothing I read or watch pleases me. I suppose it must be because of the pandemic, where even someone like me—a homebody who’s safe and secure—feels the weight of the past year.

Whatever the reason, it is such a relief to go outside most afternoons to work in my gardens. Felder Rushing, in his book Maverick Gardeners, has encouraged me to embrace my unconventional approach to gardening. In short, I am letting loose all my wild, creative gardening impulses, and it feels great. For the past year, we have been so confined, and how freeing it is to be unconfined in the garden.

Along those lines—we have begun creating our driveway moss garden because, why not? We don’t really need that end for a driveway anyway.

As we slowly add some gathered local moss, random bits have been seeding themselves in, encouraging us to think we are on the right track. The shape looks a little bit like the state of Maine. Not planned, I assure you.

We will continue to seed in moss as time allows, taking care to water on days when it doesn’t rain. Now, when this moss garden is done, I could just leave it alone in its green loveliness. Or, I could add small garden ornaments to dress it up a little. H-m-m-m, I wonder which way I’ll go…

Readers might remember that about a week ago, we got new chairs for our patio. What a delight to see them next to our glass table. But then we put in the umbrella, even older than the replaced chairs, which are twenty years old.

Clif said, “That old umbrella looks pretty shabby.”

“Sure does,” I replied. “Especially next to those new chairs.”

This put me in mind of Diderot’s dressing gown or bathrobe, as we say here. Diderot, you will recall, was one of the luminaries of the French Enlightenment and is perhaps best known for his contributions to Encyclopedia, or a Systematic Dictionary of the Sciences, Arts, and Crafts. Most people sensibly refer to it as Encyclopedia.

But Diderot is also known for his red dressing gown, given to him by a friend who had noticed how threadbare Diderot’s old dressing gown was. (I want to note that none of my adult friends have ever seen me in a dressing gown.)

At first, Diderot was pleased with his new dressing gown, but then he noticed how dumpy his study looked in comparison. One thing led to another, and in the end, Diderot spent more money than he should have refurbishing his study so that it would go along with his snazzy new dressing gown.

This story points the way to what happened next on our patio.

That’s right. A new umbrella.

As the comedian Jerry Seinfeld might have asked, “When’s it going to end?”

All right, confession time: Few things fill me with more joy than  rich, dark compost does. If this makes me sound like a gardening nerd, then so be it. And when the compost is free, well, even better. For home gardeners, our town’s transfer station offers compost for the taking.

Behold a mountain of black gold,

where Clif digs with his trusty spade.

Voila! Compost at home waiting to be spread. Be still my trembling heart.

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Now,  you might be asking yourself, “What can compete with compost?” How about a book about wildly creative, eccentric gardeners? Yes, please! Enter Felder Rushing’s Maverick Gardeners: Dr. Dirt and Other Determined Independent Gardeners, introduced to me by my blogging friend Susan Rushton.

I cannot overstate how much I am enjoying this book about folks who, as Rushing describes it, color outside the lines when it comes to gardening. From photos and descriptions, I gather that Rushing is this kind of gardener, someone who tosses out the notions of perfect plantings and tasteful groupings and instead goes for wild creativity. It seems that I am that kind of gardener too, with an inordinate fondness for folderol and ornaments tucked among the plants. Then there is my obsession with moss. How I love moss, which grows on my front lawn, on my driveway, and even on the roofs (or rooves, as we say in Maine) of our house and shed.

Reading Maverick Gardeners feels like discovering a community of kindred spirits, exactly what I need right now in this time of the pandemic, which can throw even the most buoyant spirit into a funk.

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For music, once more to NPR’s Tiny Desk Home Concerts. One of the things I especially love about Tiny Desk is how it introduces me to music and musicians I never would have heard of otherwise. So it is with C. Tangana, a Spanish rapper who got together with his extended family to make this extraordinary video that features musicians and singers of all ages. Note how in the back right corner, his mom and aunt are really into this concert. Finally, you don’t have to understand a word of Spanish to be moved by the music.

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Favorites and small pleasures from blogging friends:

From Thistles and Kiwi, food, glorious food, and an equally glorious blue sky.

Alys, from Gardening Nirvana, has put together a lovely collage of what’s blooming in her garden right now. There might be a sweet kitty in the mix, too.

Ju-Lyn, of Touring My Backyard, extols the loveliness of rain, especially when she is watching from her balcony.

If you would like to have a post featured on my weekly Friday Favorites, let me know, and I will include it.

On Saturday, there was great excitement at our home in the woods. Six new chairs were delivered for our patio—our living room as soon as the weather is good.

Because we are Mainers, Clif and I are not ones to get rid of things willy-nilly. Mindful of both the drain on our budget and the drain on the environment, we like to keep things as long as possible.

And so it was with our previous chairs, which we had had for twenty years. The seats were, ahem, tired. Very tired. (One had even ripped.) Twice we had scraped and repainted the arms and legs, but the rust was making such inroads that a third time seemed like a fool’s errand.  In short, it was time for new chairs.

And here they are!

Naturally, we needed to have drinks to celebrate the arrival of chairs that not only look good but are also comfortable.

May the new chairs last as long as their predecessors did!

As for the old chairs…Did we toss them out? We did not. Instead, we tucked them down cellar to be used—primarily by Clif and me— when we need more than six chairs.

After all, we don’t want to get too drastic about throwing things out.