It feels like I haven’t accomplished much on my old farmhouse, lately. However, a few pictures taken from the past and present, reminds me that slow progress is still progress.
I’m calling it the kitchen bedroom, because the space was the original kitchen – dark and depressing and far away from the rest of the house. You know, I had the new kitchen moved to a huge room that sat in the middle of the house. This bedroom is not finished, but it’s getting there. Much brighter and inviting than all that dark, ugly brown paint.
We had an impromptu party Friday afternoon and a toilet seat needed to be replaced in my mother’s bathroom. I did it. I went to the big box store, bought the nearly $60 seat, brought it home, read the directions to install it and boom! New toilet for company. Yay, Me!
It’s the last night of winter. What could be more comforting than homemade mac-n-cheese, on a cold night? Yes, fixing supper is an accomplishment.
Recent pics taken around my property. Pots planted in day lilies, gladiolus, herbs. (Covered tonight, as the temps drop to the 20’s) Yellow flag iris herald spring. The old mailbox standing guard next to singing wisteria. And Miss Marigold enjoying the afternoon.
The elephant cream pitcher in two different kitchen window sills and different flowers. Still charming. She’s a favorite to display a few blooms each summer. This morning only two Mardi Gras Zinnias and a fresh sprig on Sweet Basil. Along with her are miscellaneous green and gold La SoLana cream and sugar sets, that were left in the old kitchen of my old farmhouse.
The first picture was taken at my mother’s former house. The second at Flowers Proper. Difused light from the sunporch. I like it.
I can’t not talk about the weather. It takes hold of everyday life and changes my plans. A tropical storm started out on one side of the country Amanda, crossed the Ucitan and became Cristobol, bringing with it rain and high winds.
The storm knocked down most of my flower patch. Roots are exposed. Plants, still living, are growing crooked. The stems travel along the ground, but the bloom at the end turns upward, trying to face the sun. I will endeavor this weekend to righten the storms battering. Wooden stakes, jute twine, hammer and elbow grease should do the trick.
This is a picture of what our nation is going through. We are battered by a storm whose name keeps changing. We’re knocked down. Running low. But at the end, we need to look upward.
Blessings for a safe weekend from the Exile’s Kitchen.
Last summer I planted Shata Daisy seeds around the base of my mailbox. Plants emerged from the ground and they were maintained, but no blooms. I didn’t despair, for I knew from experience in another life that perennial daisies take a year to mature and bloom. So, one plants the seeds and the payoff is 365 days later. Worth the wait.
Also worth the wait are birthdays of grandchildren. Born 21 days apart are Levi and Hazel. Sweet, Sweet.
Daisy and Birthday Blessings from theexileskitchen.