With a rake and a wheelbarrow—that’s how I best remember my Papa. So whenever I’m smoothing out the earth’s surface after wrestling the root of all roots, I think of him and the meditative hours he spent shaping landscapes to his liking. Whether it was a rototilled garden that fed his nightly vinegar and oil salads (yuck!) or simply the satisfaction of standing back at the end of the day and seeing his progress, he reaped the rewards of hard work.
That’s what I love most too. The more thought-demanding and labor-intensive the project, the greater the reward when you stand back, arms crossed, nodding to yourself (or someone nearby) with that quiet, satisfying “I did that” pride.
Which brings me to today’s triumph: my second-ever loaf of bread. The smell of it, the satisfying crunch of the perfectly crisp top as the knife broke through into its spongy, moist center, and the way the butter melted into every nook and cranny—pure bread ecstasy. Honestly, it felt like a gourmet chef had whipped up a seven-course meal tailored just for me, and that bread would be the star of the show.
In my 43 years, I can confidently say I’ve never planted a garden in February. But Georgia, like Washington, apparently likes to play tricks with “false” warm-ups that lure eager gardeners back to their raised beds too early, like workers who forgot to set their clocks back. Even if I’m jumping the gun, raspberries, and strawberries are hardy, and peas, lettuce, and arugula can always get cozy under the frost blanket Paula kindly mailed me.
And speaking of updates, has it really been two months since I mentioned the pool? Well, that’s because nothing was happening—until now. The past three days have been a whirlwind of Leisure Living Pool workers malleting board forms, sanding concrete, and fitting the entire space with a liner. I’d heard about the snail’s pace turning into lickety-split, but experiencing it firsthand is a whole other beast.
I did get in a bit of trouble today for turning off the liner-stretching machine. A worker stopped by to let me know that’s not allowed, even though the “big guy” yesterday said it was fine. Lesson learned—leave the machine running, even if it sounds like a diesel truck parked right outside the house all day and night. Got it.
Our current instructions are to fill the pool with water up to an inch below the second step. Since I already messed up by turning off the machine, I’m on pins and needles about screwing this up too. But Dave and I made an executive decision to turn off the water for the night so we wouldn’t have to wake up every hour checking the level. That’s a problem for tomorrow me.
Now it’s time for Dave and me to settle in for our weekly episode of Severance. Last week, it was fun having Dave’s sister Cathy join us and share her theories on what’s really going on—because I sure don’t have a clue.
Take care.
Love,
Jaclynn
PS: In all my blah-blah-blahing, I forgot to mention the fluffy cloud pancakes I made this morning. Just Google “Japanese pancakes,” and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Don’t forget to imagine topping them with freshly whisked heavy cream infused with maple syrup because that’s what I did. Trust me—they’re incredible.
Going On 40 