Sidetracked

My out-of-doors goal for today was to sweep the steps that lead down from the driveway to my deck and to rake up all the wind-blown branches, twigs, and leaves from underneath the Noble Fir next to the steps.

These were going to be my "before" pictures:

"Before" sweeping the steps.

"Before" raking under the Noble Fir.

I did a rough sweep of the steps, and then I needed to get a rake and also a pair of clippers from one of my sheds. (Thanks to my dad, there are three sheds in our yard.) The shed door had blackberry vines growing over it. Blackberries are very, very prickery. The vines had also intertwined with a rose bush by the shed, and an unwanted pair of holly bushes were growing under the rose. Everything with prickers.

The Distraction

I did have one pruner with me that we used in December to take the lower branches off my Christmas tree. I used it to cut at the vines until I could open the door, then I pulled out a rake. I raked up the prickery vines and used the rake and pruner like tongs to pick them up and put them in a wheelbarrow.

I kept cutting and picking up, cutting and picking up, until I had cleared the area in front of the shed door. I cut blackberry vines into pieces and their stems down to the ground and cut the holly bushes to stumps. Rake, rake, rake. Careful disposal of all the prickery cuttings into a wheelbarrow, and then finally rolling the wheelbarrow over my lumpy, bumpy lawn to the creek side, where I turned the wheelbarrow upside down to empty it.

The left and right sides of the shed can serve as "before" and "after" pictures.

That took me so long, that I needed to come inside to take a breather. To motivate myself to come back out, I left the shed door open and the rake on the ground, and I brought the wheelbarrow up to the area under the Noble Fir that I want to clean up.

Now I've been inside for a while and, unsurprisingly, feel a certain disinclination to go back outside and do more raking and sweeping. It's late in the afternoon, and it looks like it's clouding over. I'll go check the hourly forecast on my favorite weather website.

I looked at the hourly and the 10-day forecast. If it were going to rain tonight, then I could not sweep or rake again in the near future, but there's no real chance of rain until later this coming week, and even then it's only a 50/50 chance. So I can wait until tomorrow or the next day to finish up.

I did take the dog outside, and I closed the shed door and brought the rake and clippers to the steps. I got ambitious enough to use the clippers to cut back some sweet box that was overgrowing the steps. So I don't have an "after" picture of the steps when they're thoroughly swept clean, but I do have a "during" picture when at least the shrubbery is cut back.

"During" the steps clean-up.

My Gardening Attire

When I disturb earth and leaves and branches, I'm always concerned that I will also disturb spiders, who might then scramble up my leg. To keep them from crawling under my pant leg, I tucked my (black) pant legs into my (white) socks, before slipping my feet into my (black) clogs. I was going to be working in an area where most likely no one would see me. (No one's looking at you, anyway.) And I said, as I headed out, "It's not a beauty contest. It's not a fashion show."

My Dog's Participation

My dog, of course, came with me while I worked. I had him on his leash. While I swept the stairs, I just kept the leash loop on my wrist. When I was gathering up the sweepings at the foot of the stairs and throwing them over the retaining wall under the big cedar tree, I let his leash drop, so he could wander over to the sunny part of the deck. Sometimes when I let go of his leash and he drags it around, he doesn't quite understand that's he's free, and he just walks around slowly but fairly near by.

When I went to the shed, I could see him peering through the cedar branches, but he was at a loss to follow me. So I had to go back and walk the way he needed to come, so he could follow me. While I was doing all that chopping, and cutting, and raking, and picking up by the shed door, he ambled around the yard.  I have a big back yard, and at one point he was at the far side and looking as if he might trot over to the neighbors', so I called him back. At first he just looked at me, then turned his head around as he sometimes does as if he's looking to see if I'm talking to someone else. So I had to call sternly and clap my hands loudly—that gets his attention, as he is also a little hard of hearing, as he's getting older—and then he sheepishly and slowly came to me. He stopped just a little ways away, and I reached and took his collar and brought him right to my feet. Then I petted and praised him a lot, so he would know it's a positive thing to come when he's called. After that, he stayed pretty close.

I did have to pick up his leash when we were down by the creek with the wheelbarrow, and a neighbor's dog (a little white terrier) showed up and wandered around the shed. My dog wanted to bark and challenge him, but he listened when I told him to be quiet. When I dragged the wheelbarrow back to the shed, the rumbly noise plus my unfamiliar self (we always only see each other from a distance) encouraged the neighbor's dog to stay a distance away from us and eventually he went up the stairs and, presumably, to his own home.

Astonishingly, I did not take a picture of my dog the whole time we were outside. I do have one from inside, though, in the morning before we went out.

The faithful companion.

Fauna

On our way back from the creek, I saw an incredibly beautiful butterfly, dark purple or black with yellow or white spots around the edges of his wings.* He stopped on a branch of a young, small Japanese maple, and sat slowly moving his wings. I wished I had my camera.

I did have my camera with me earlier in the day, when I saw a hummingbird down by the creek. He hovered a little while, then sat on a branch. He's so small it was hard for me to find him in the lens. I had to play with this picture to try to bring up his color and make him visible. When he was flying, he was iridescent blue.

The hummingbird.

My Person

At the end of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek Annie Dillard says, I go my way, and my left foot says "Glory," and my right foot says "Amen." As I came in from my yard work, my left knee said nothing, but my right knee said, "Ouch."

The Significance

It means much to me that I work in my yard and grow flowers this year. It is a sign of healing, of moving through the journey of sorrow and loss to a place of greater peace.

Footnote

* I searched online for a butterfly-identifying site for the Pacific Northwest. Of course, the more I looked at pictures of butterflies, the less I could remember exactly what my guy looked like. But whenever I thought, "It could be this one," it was a species called Mourning Cloak. I also learned two new words: riparian, which means "relating to wetlands adjacent to rivers and streams," and estivate, which means "spend a hot or dry period in a prolonged state of torpor or dormancy." Hot weather puts me into a state of torpor, so perhaps I estivate.