The Wheel Turns to the Light

by cathrynbauer

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The hollyhock seedlings not only made it through the darkness of winter, but they’re thriving!

Somehow, despite it being winter, the garden is growing!  I had Pete Merski and crew out to make cedar paths and dig two big vegetable beds.  It came out very well, though things are a little more square than Ted likes.  But I will be softening the lines with plants and curved pathlets of steppingstones.  Our California garden was always a bit of a metaphor.  When I was building up the soil and planting perennials, I was struggling to become a court reporter.  The garden filled in and blossomed as I passed my first exam, grew fuller as I developed a successful CART career, and became spectacular as I was finally passing the California Certified Shorthand Reporter exam, surviving my first, awful agency and moving on to success in reporting.

Similarly, I see the garden before me as symbolic of life in Maryland.  It’s just bare, nearly raw land that I need to bring things to, energy and know-how and even some outside help.  Today is going to be interesting.  Ted is off to a conference with his friend and work cohort Matt.  I rather wish I were going somewhere for a few days.  Pleasant as the house is, I have some end-of-winter cabin fever.  But today should be interesting, assuming the weather doesn’t keep me from doing what I want to do.  My reporter friend Cassandra is having a first birthday party for her granddaughter; surprised and pleased to be invited!  Ted and I were going to go to the Medieval Feast of the Celtic Society of Southern Maryland, a group that interests me.  Since he couldn’t go, I asked Matt’s wife Melinda.  Don’t know her well, but she seems pleasant.  After dropping off Matt this morning, she came in for coffee.  Although we didn’t spend a lot of time together, it reinforced my opinion that she is someone I would like to know better.  So today should be interesting.  I did email someone about an Irish session up in Baltimore, too.  Weather permitting, I may visit them tomorrow sans fiddle and see what they’re like.

Onward.

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