Plans and Progress...

... or lack, thereof.

Next on the agenda is the gable and windows on the east side of the house. I have yet another delay, however. In lieu of painting I shall be in the field for several days working. It is a hurry up and wait sort of project. I had known for several weeks that this was a possibility and then yesterday (Tuesday), I got the word: can I be there Thursday (tomorrow)? Yes. I can. And I will be.

And so the scrapers and sandpaper, brushes and paint shall remain in their cupboard until I return.

In the meantime, rather than start a phase I knew I couldn't finish, I spent time on the vegetable garden. It seems that all I have to do is let it slip out of my mind for only a day or two and it bolts. This artichoke was "almost" ready to eat and in the blink of an eye, it's too late. It is going to flower and soon will go to seed. That's okay as I think it is a beautiful thing.

Bulk trash pick-up was today so I spent a bit of time cleaning up the after the loader had done it's business. We'd stacked a pile of cuttings from the Mulberry for pick-up and they were taken away. I'd also trimmed back the cactus that were "encroaching" on the alley.

I try to find a point of balance: working on the painting project but also keeping up with the needs of the garden. As it gets hotter the vegetation demands more attention: some to stay alive and some, like the Bermuda grass, needs to be beaten back or it will take over everything.

Prickly Pear

Cholla and Globe Mallow

Baby cantaloupe from Mary!

I planted one of the cantaloupes in a raised bed in the vegetable garden and the other I planted in the front yard beneath the lemon tree. Hopefully, they will thrive and bear fruit!

The Back Porch and the Casita

The three-day weekend was upon me. Friday evening would find us entertaining Danny and Joni, Mary, Brian, Matt and Denise on our, hopefully, freshly painted back porch.

I made do recycling the masking tape I already had and trying to be neat in the places I had none. I got all the crap out of the garage. And it rained. It started spitting on Wednesday, got pretty serious on Thursday night and kept right on through most of Friday morning and into the afternoon. No worries...

The pencil cactus in front of the Casita. The socks are full of sand and keep it from flooding during the summer monsoon.

Got milk?

Those zillions of two-by-fours. Taping and painting was like standing in an oven - that corrugated metal got amazingly hot.

Painted the old chest to match. It has found new life as a seat.

In the Casita: a small tray of essentials for our guests. The sink is freshly scrubbed.

Crisp sheets and the rustic comforter and pillow shams from my Mom added just the right touch.

I believe the next phase will be the east gable on the house, the trim on the exterior of the patio, and the front porch. Brick by brick, my citizens, brick by brick...

Moving Right Along...

For the most part, the garage is complete. I've a bit of touch up to do here and there and a vent on the roof needs to be painted but it has be done first thing in the morning or the asphalt shingles will burn the skin off my arms. On the whole, I'm thinking it looks pretty sharp! (That's the pergola in the foreground.)

And so, I am moving along to the patio. This will be an exercise in patience as there are about a zillion little two-by-fours that need to be masked off with tape. Naturally, to prolong the agony, I painted the windows first. Two windows look out from the kitchen onto the patio, one of which is over the kitchen sink. It's full of little knick-knacks and such - in a tiny kitchen every bit of space must be utilized to the max. Of course, all the trinkets mean I don't need any sort of curtain for "privacy."

You can kind of get an idea by what I mean about all the masking tape. This is the top of that support post that Steve repaired for me. I think it turned out pretty nice.

The patio itself is probably a million years old - well, okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but it's been attached - and I use that term loosely - to the house for many years. Technically, it's over spanned but has been "grandfathered" due to it's age. It's a tenacious assembly of wood, corrugated aluminum, and some sort of funky scalloped metal trim. We've spent many many happy hours with friends and family enjoying its shade, ambiance, and the cracked concrete slab that I've decorated with flowering vines. (Yeah, I won't be quitting my day job.)

Before I could get after the trim, Steve needed to effect some additional repairs. (He likes doing this sort of thing so I "save" it for him - hee hee!) Next I'll be using some more of my favorite patching compound, sanding, wiping, and painting away.

The pressure is on just a little bit as Danny and Joni will be arriving on Friday from Cortez. They're attending their niece's wedding but will be staying with us at Chez Wilson. We are putting them up in what our insurance company euphemistically calls "The Casita" which is actually the freshly painted and air conditioned garage (complete with futon, television, and hot and cold running water). It's rustic but better than the back of a pick-up truck. Right now it's full of all the crap that was on the back porch. I'm out of masking tape. They say it might rain.

No worries...

Brush in Hand

After weeks away, my project is back on track. It was like climbing a mountain; getting the ladder back out, locating my cans of paint, sand paper, scraper, patching compound, brushes, hammer, nails, ratty apron with the big pocket... In my mind the project had taken on an enormous insurmountable scale and I was dreading it. Once back up on the ladder I gradually moved into my zone and again enjoyed the experience. Focusing on what is right in front of me - peeling paint, resetting a nail - it's a bit like a working meditation.

Today, I spent the morning hours scraping, patching, sanding, and washing the front of the garage. Tomorrow, after it is thoroughly dry, I will apply the paint. Once I had finished washing down the walls, 'Clem flopped down on the now-cool pavement and had his siesta.

The front of the garage differs from the back in that is hasn't been blasted by the sun to the extent as the south-facing wall had been. It also has a vent which will require a bit more finesse with a brush.

While 'Clem napped, I retreated to the cool interior of the house and waited for the sun to move from the back door where I would next move my operations.

The back door which leads into the kitchen faces east and takes the full brunt of the sun for hours each morning. When we first moved into our home the back door was french-style, top-to-bottom single panes of glass and rotting wood. It had baked and offered minimal thermal protection. Years ago we replaced it with a solid-core steel-clad door possessing dual-paned glass, but it still takes a beating from relentless el Sol.

I taped, sanded, and removed the hardware (door knob, dead bolt, strike plate) and was well into my painting when I heard the sickening squeal of tires on pavement and the twisting of metal on metal.

I dropped everything and sprinted down the street. The sight was chilling. No fewer than four vehicles strewn all over 7th Avenue. A woman was on the side of the road screaming hysterically, so I headed to her. A young man - her significant other - was already on the phone calling for help and her six-year-old son, uninjured, Thank God, was standing by her side. I knelt in front of her, told her I was trained in First Aid and asked if she would allow me to help.

There were no obvious external injuries but she was complaining of chest and stomach pain. She'd been wearing her seat belt and the airbag had deployed - the seat belt probably being responsible for the pain. There was nothing to do now but watch her and keep her still, comfort her as best I could, and wait for the paramedics to arrive. I held her hand and stroked her hair and spoke to her by name. She calmed some but when she closed her eyes I made her open them back up and look at me - I needed her to stay awake.

My neighbors, a nurse and a doctor, arrived and I relinquished my care. The police, fire department, paramedics, arrived and I melted into the background. When she was safely on a back board and being loaded into an ambulance, I walked back home. Only then did I realize I had gravel embedded in my knees, wore filthy socks without shoes, and was covered in paint.

I finished painting the door and trim. Now it was therapeutic. It wasn't enough to eradicate the images of broken glass, pools of radiator fluid, and a screaming woman - but it helped. And I tried to hold in my mind a picture of an unharmed six-year-old boy who smiled in spite of it all.

Biding My Time...

It's Sunday. About 3 PM. The mercury stands at 101 in the shade. I won't be scraping, sanding, or painting anything until after the sun goes down.

Inside the light is dim and cool. Crinkled voile covers the windows creating a red glow and blocking some of the harsher rays of the sun. Officially, summer has not yet arrived. My senses tell me otherwise.