Buying Dirt

Pink on one side green on the other.

 

Dear folks,

I’m gun-shy this morning.

I got into trouble last night.

It was with my blog carrier for “sensitive material.” 

Hey, I’m a good Jo, and I still believe in free speech, but I overstepped their specifications, and they placed a warning on my blog.

I wasn’t sure which statement set off their bot.  I repeated information that wasn’t true, but I specified that it wasn’t, and it had tickled me before it went away. 

It wasn't the carrier who took it offline. It was me.

For those who read yesterday's post, April 29, I would appreciate any comments. Were you shocked, offended, disagreed, or agreed?

I know readers are reticent to comment on this blog; either it’s hard to do, or they are afraid I will snatch their email. I don’t know, I am just happy all you guys show up💖💗 and whether people put in likes or not doesn’t matter as long as they read my material. I appreciate your time in reading this.💗 I know you have many choices, so that you choose to look at these words warms my cockles. Thank you.💗💗💗💗💗

I am sure the powers that be didn’t object when I got off topic at the end of my post and talked about buying topsoil for the area in our backyard where the grass isn’t growing.

It struck me as my daughter was throwing the bags of dirt over the temporary fence I bought to keep the dogs off my intended new lawn, that our great-grandparents would exclaim, “Buying dirt?! What in the world is the world coming to?”

What if they heard that in the 2000s, we would be buying water, and what about $5.00 cups of coffee?

See how we ease into such things, and soon they become commonplace? We adjust.

The area I am talking about is under the Maple tree where the roots are growing up through the ground. After the leaves covered the ground last fall, the rains came and added to the the lawn's demise.

Now we have a large patch of bare ground.  

I love that Maple tree. It is beautiful in the summer and provides delightfully calming shade—do you bask in shade? (When it is hot enough, we do.)

But can I convince the birds to leave some seeds to germinate, the seeds to sprout, and grass to grow where we once had a lawn?

We’ll see.

This is our life, folks: conditions change, we have at-home challenges, we have world challenges, and here we are trying to find joy in a chaotic world.

It’s probably not all that much different from earlier times.

At least we have indoor plumbing.

On the Way to My Blog Peaches Gave Me a Message

 

 

Since it is May 1, exactly two years since I decided to write a memoir I’m honoring our Pink dogwood Tree.

After that Peaches the Pink Party Poodle for Peace tells me: "Don't worry."

He ha, two years since May 2023. An entirely new memoir that could be stuffed into that space.

However, two years ago, on this day, I began writing a memoir and declared that I would try to write 50,000 words before the blossoms fell from the tree.

The last blossom fell thirty days later, and I had only written 48,000. It beat me.

Wasn’t it cool that I could look into that living color bouquet outside my window and type out my life?

Seven years ago, when we bought this house, the tree was cut down to its bare bones, a trunk and five branches. Nary, a twig or branch showed, no leaves either, but then it had no branches to support them, and it was December to boot. I didn’t pay much attention to the tree until it pushed out a teeny tiny pink blossom one year, and I exclaimed, “I think it is a dogwood tree!”

A Pink Dogwood is one of my favorite trees. Since then, it has grown about 20 feet and pushed pinkness out all over itself. (I think my ashes ought to be sprinkled under that tree. It can decide how long we will live, and we can go out together.)

After about 16 thousand dumb title ideas for my memoir, I am now calling it Echoes after a Ray Bradbury’s quote, “No sound, once made, is ever truly lost.”

I love that guy—he hugged me once, did I tell you? Oh, that was name-dropping, but I hoped his hug would somehow shore up a bit of talent for me. Besides, he seemed like such a happy fellow and taught like Socrates—out under a tree.

And from Barbara Davis (The Last of the Moon Girls) comes:

“At Some Point, We Must Step into our Stories and claim them as our own. It won’t be easy, stepping into the light never was, but it’s what we’re called to do.”

 

From Peaches’ blog comes: “Don’t Worry,”  August 6, 2012.

 

 Me catching a power under the steering wheel.

 

Don't Worry!

I Peaches, Party Poodle for Peace, am a happy dog. Don’t worry about the future. Future will take care of itself. Many people don’t know how to be happy, don’t roll in grass, don’t know how to dig for moles and come to house with nose stacked with dirt. Don’t know how to give high-pitched happy bark in greeting, or how to give low bark that tells owner, “Check this out.”

Worry? I don’t worry—waste of time. Well, I did worry when I accompanied Bear to the Vet.  Couldn't help it! I thought I would have to go see the doctor, maybe be left there, but didn’t. Whew!

Can’t nap and worry.  Can’t chase lizards and worry. Worry takes away joy. I live for joy.

I have a job that makes me happy. I look after my people and the house. I go for rides and walks with family. I keep lizards away from the door. I keep Obi Kitty away from my food dish too—cats are so sneaky.

 

Me

An aside from Momma: Little Peaches has Addison’s Disease which is not a disease, but a condition. It means her adrenal glands are not working properly.

Peaches lives with her chronic health condition. We take care of her, we give her medication, she maintains. She goes about her life in a positive way. If she feels poorly we give her more subcutaneous fluid. She makes a contribution to life. I love her, she loves me, and she pontificates on her blog…

 

On my way to my other blog this morning, I stopped by Dog Blog by Peaches and saw that a few people check in occasionally, even though she hasn’t written since 2021. I saw that one person has Peaches’ blog noted on her blog. Bless that girl, so I downloaded her book on Kindle—haven’t read it yet, maybe tonight.

https://monicaeuen.blogspot.com/ 

 

Did Peaches send me to her blog because I need the message?

That’s the way it works sometimes.

https://dogblogbypeaches.blogspot.com/