choosing our flowers

 

 

When you move into a new house, you are full of good intentions and vigour:  You will get this house whipped into shape and transform this house into a home in no time.  Everything will get unpacked.  We'll put everything on the walls.  We'll put the furniture in place.  But a home is a place of flux.  It takes some time to figure out how that transformation from bare rental house into loving home will work.  And, invariably, there is some stuff that just doesn't fit right in the new house.  At least, not right away.  So we have three boxes still unpacked from when we moved in nine months ago.  We have an agenda to avoid letting that unpacking job slip past a year.  But part of making a house your own is decorating.  The garnish that makes the meal feel right.  There's a lot of good planting already in place at the house but a couple of areas in the driveway and around the porch are barren flower beds where, several decades ago, someone probably had something beautiful but now it is just rocky, parched soil dotted with weeds and the occasional decent plant struggling for survival.  So Liz wisely decided we didn't have to live staring at these ugly troughs of nothingness.  We could bring them back to live.  So off to Aberfeldy we tromped where the kids ran free and didn't quite listen to our futile demands like "there's a large truck backing up!" while we chose some flowers.   Then we all pitched in a brought the little deserts to life with assorted colours and plants as you'll see in our next chapter: Chapter 2: Diggin' in the Dirt.