The yellow house is in an uproar, which I’m sure will give me lots of metaphors for industry observation.
Our handyman, Mario, is scraping decrepit wallpaper
off the living room wall
and onto the floor.
Out in the garden, Bernardo and I – along with Joe, a teenager neighbor – are wrenching the landscape into shape. First, we had to plant the trees.
This was primarily Joe’s responsibility and he did a GREAT job.
Then I flung myself helplessly at the rose bank, to prepare it to receive myrtle as a ground cover:
I do not feel I accomplished much.
I emerged looking as though I’d drowned in mud.
Today we are wallpaper/paint shopping, and planting the myrtle.
And if we have time we’re going to chop up our hosta plants and redistribute them. Rhizomes are almost as fun as baby mandrakes.