One step from owning garden gnomes.

I was so filled with rage today. It might have been a combination of my mom leaving and me having to drive her to Toronto to catch her train, me missing the big Father’s Day dinner at our house because of it, and it being rainy. Everything seemed to be setting me off – not being able to find the muffin tins to make my buttertarts and blaming it on the messy condition of the house (all my tantrums seem to lead to that), and just generally being snippy. Traffic was causing me to roar, and so was my GPS unit which was lagging as I was trying to meet a 5:40 boarding time for Mom’s departure at Union Station. And then she missed her train because my GPS decided it was going to turn me around and make me drive through the city and hit every red light there was… and then I had to rebook her on the 7:05 train to London and figure out a way to get her to Sarnia. It didn’t help that once I finally saw a glimmer of hope coming down Bay Street… we realized the street was closed off in front of Union Station. That’s just what one fucking needs when you only have 5 minutes to get on the train. A big middle finger to Toronto.

Agh. It has not been a good day.

Just when the month is becoming enjoyable, you realize you only have two more full days at home before going back to prison (work) for a month. I booked two weeks off and I’ve yet to hear if it’s been approved. I’m guessing not. I’m going to be an unhappy camper if it’s not.

However… on the brighter side of things… Mom did a PHENOMENAL job in the yard. I brought her up here for a weekend getaway so she could spend time doing things she liked, that would not only help me out but keep her occupied and make her a little happy. Gardening always seems to be a therapy for her. She converted the sad garden on the side of our yard into a beautiful space. What she did would have taken me a week. She’s so full of unique ideas, though… things I’d never think of. We had this old woodstove from the boathouse that we were just going to pitch, until Mom declared that it could simply be spraypainted and put in the garden as a focal point. How right she was. Len spraypainted it fire engine red, and then Mom and I went thrifting and she found this old-fashioned camp cookware that she put plants in and sat on top of it. She also bought an old tin watering can and sprayed it red, and filled it with flowers… as well as another pot. She found an old tricycle in the garage that she put a plant on. I mean… what a difference she made in this yard! We had hostas everywhere that I didn’t think looked very nice, until she showed me that they can be divided and spread out. They look a lot better with red mulch around them than they do in a shady unkempt spot full of overgrowth. And when I realized what it costs to buy one hosta, I accepted that we actually had a goldmine of plants in this yard, if only we put the time in to manage them.

And then there’s me… it took me two days to dig out a 6′ garden and transplant all my flowers into it haha. It doesn’t even look that spectacular, but that’s because my seeds haven’t fully sprouted yet. My hanging baskets and my gardens have started to sprout, which made me excited. I’ve never really gardened before, but our yard almost looks normal now.

I found out what a pain in the ass it’s going to be to get rid of all our poison ivy, though. It’s everywhere, and we need to get it controlled before we leave because we have renters coming. I’d love to have a flamethrower and torch it all, but apparently inhaling the fumes can kill you or something. I think as long as it doesn’t rain tomorrow I’m going to go spray it all with bleach. Or maybe I can wear a hazmat suit and transplant it all into one spot and tell everyone it’s my “exotic” garden haha.

Len cleaned up the yard in front of the cottage and pruned the stupid yews that I HATE. They’re growing EVERYWHERE and we’re not allowed to cut any of them down completely because Len’s dad had this pact with the old woman he bought the property from, that he would NOT cut down the yews because she loved them so much. So now we’re stuck with them. We trimmed them right back because they were wild and out of control, so at least they look better… but I still hate them. I read online that you can cut them back to a 6″ stump and they’ll still come back. These things are like the cockroaches of the plant world! Maybe if I’m lucky…. I’ll trim them back to 3″ and they’ll die and I can just say, “Whoops.”

If it’s nice tomorrow I’m going to take photos and post them. I’m slowly becoming proud of this place.

I’m missing Mom. It was actually really enjoyable having her here. Goodbyes suck.


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