yard party

It is quiet in the gardens this morning.  Mostly.  If I close my eyes, I can hear the hum of the fridge, the little cat scratching her claws on the carpet on the stairs, JoJo whistling and begging while peering through the windows of the deck door.  I could go open the door so she and Gus can run in and out at will, but that means the big cat can no longer lay stretched out on the cool kitchen floor and the little cat will disappear, back on alert, already gone looking for hiding places downstairs.

When I look outside from my chair, I can see something large and buzzy, flying back and forth across the yard.  Not sure if it's a humming bird or maybe some superbee.

I note that the windows JoJo looks through need a serious cleaning.  Many dog nose-prints and tongue-licks there that don't particularly trouble me but might bother the guests later today.

Jack and Jr and I spent most of yesterday out in the yard, pruning, weeding, mowing, edging, raking, and then hauling to the landfill.  The gardens look much tidier, but I distinctly remember thinking several times that I didn't know why we had to do all of this in one day--one very hot day--when it's only family who is coming today.  They're family, for heavens sake. 

But it does all look much nicer and I couldn't have done it all myself.  Those two can work so hard.

Even the flower pots on the deck, which looked so cheerful earlier this summer, but have suffered from the heat and perhaps some insect infestations--now look happy again after I removed a few dead bits and added a few more colorful live ones.

I'll clean up those windows and then Jr and I will go to the grocery store to pick up the last few items needed for the meal, and if we're lucky, the farmers' market will be open with fresh cherries or corn or little tomatoes to add to the table.  Probably too early for local watermelon, but we'll pick up one somewhere and settle it into the big metal tub with the sodas and ice and water to cool them all.

We'll toss together a big potato salad and bake a big pot of beans, and when Stu arrives, we'll skewer the meat and veggies for grilling.  And if we are lucky enough to find fresh local corn, we'll husk it and cook it quickly and slather it in butter and salt and pepper.

And then I'll sit back and watch, hopeful that everyone will enjoy the food and the conversation and the company.  If I remember, I'll snap pictures of people smiling and laughing and talking and swimming and pondering.  Mostly feeling satisfied and welcome. 

And after the food is gone and the conversation is over, I will sit back and sigh, quietly contented that those who came enjoyed themselves and those who didn't or couldn't were missed, but we did the best we could, the food was good, and the kids had fun.