Last night, I heard my owl for the first time this season. I’m not sure if it’s a girl or a boy, or even if it’s the same owl from year to year, but its “woot-too-woot,” usually around four in the morning, is my literal calling card for the start of the soon-to-come summer. The defective hummingbird feeder (which fed mostly ants) has been replaced, but the hummingbirds have found a new reason for leaving zero-star Yelp reviews for my single purpose restaurant: I neglected to fill it up to the brim before I decamped to tend to various errands in the city. All seems forgiven at the moment, though.
I spoke too soon when I said all the appliances over-wintered unscathed. Although not strictly an appliance, the ceiling fan in the living room that worked perfectly fine a week ago now refuses to start. Since it’s only June, it’s not an immediate problem with respect to needing a brisk indoor breeze, but the logistics of figuring out what’s wrong with it will be a problem since it lives at the peak of the vaulted ceiling, only reachable by scaling three levels of scaffold. All I can say in my own defense is that the height of the ceiling seemed like a good idea at the time.
The washer did give me a scare when I attempted the first load of the season, beeping and snarling and extruding pink antifreeze into the sink. Thankfully the problem was merely that the water hose taps had never been turned back on. It only took two passes through the wash cycle to remove the anti-freeze from the clothes.
I always say I like the idea of gardening more than I like gardening, and since I can choose not to do what I don’t like doing, I do the bare minimum. The chives have gone rogue, springing up all over the place other than in the pot that’s intended to confine them, and I will just leave them to their free-range ways and simply figure out more ways to use chives. I have plunked geraniums in the two hanging pots, planted basil and oregano, and am contemplating situating the dill into a container. Possibly today. Possibly not today.
Normally by now I would have been in the water several times. However, courtesy of actually having spring weather this year, the water is still a little too “refreshing” at the moment. But evidently not too refreshing for the tubers that are making the rounds of TransCanada Bay. Alas.
The flag isn’t up the pole yet, the dock chairs have not been liberated from their winter configuration, and the cushions have not yet migrated down to the shore from their seasonal siesta under the bed. There’s a gaggle of canned goods on the kitchen counter, imported from the house that becomes someone else’s at the end of the month, which will require a complicated game of Jenga to cram into the cupboard. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be on the back deck. Reading a book.