We have a contract on Grandpa and Grandma's house. It closes in just under two weeks. The inspection is on Monday. Most of the inside of the house is clear of belonging and sporting new paint, all but the wood shop in the basement, that is.
Now we have moved onto the garden and that one is harder for me. Eleanor died six and a half years ago. She was an avid, enthusiastic Master Gardener. Her life was in her garden; her loved showered on each plant. Don kept it watered and had a gardener weed it, but the garden clearly misses Eleanor. Now that the house is selling, we are working hard to move as many plants to our garden as possible. It is a painful and sad, as well as hopeful and connecting. I always miss Eleanor, but there are certain times, especially in the late winter and in May, when I missed her the most. During the last, cold throws of winter, I could look out of the window in the living room on the north end and see the fushia blooms of the magnolia tree thriving, its leaves not yet emerged. It is not supposed to winter over in our area, but there is it. The same thing goes for the azeala bush outside of the kitchen window. And then there is the Japanese peony, also not supposed to live in this gardening zone. When I missed her acutely, I would look out or go outside and visit her in what was left of her in the garden. On Sunday days in March, when I had the urge to clean out the garden, I could hear Eleanor's voice gently reminding me to wait, that the plants would yet need the leaf cover as protection against the cold. May was the most glorious of months.I am thankful that we did not have to move the plants when they were at their peak of blooming.
Now we are transplanting as much of the garden as possible. I hope that in the end that it will feel like we have moved Eleanor here, too. I hope that I will be able to walk around my garden and feel her here. We've moved dozens and dozens of plants, as well as the flagstone bench that was used to admire the sunsets. We will move the patio furniture. I hope that it will help us feel less sad.
Right now I am broken up every time we go. I think about how there will not be any back porch dinners, or birthday parties, or Christmases. There will not even be any more 4th of July as we have known it in the past. The bike parade is taking place, but Ethan will be working nights. Ellie and Kohlton will be in New Hampshire with Mark and Martine, celebrating the holiday at the lake with friends that Mark has had since high school.
The neighbors behind us are moving out as the owner is going to put two houses on that lot. When I arrived home from running errand today, I found that they had already removed the lovely tree that signaled the end of the driveway and kept the dogs cool. Gone are the old fashioned roses that put forth soft blooms every spring.
I've had enough of change. I don't think I can take anymore. Too bad that I can't make that limit stick.
I am going to distract myself by making a cake and a birthday crown for my niece, Aurora, who turns two tomorrow.
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