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Tag Archives: on the deck


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saved from away. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

almost every time we mosey around an antique shoppe – likely every time – i find myself musing about how no one should buy anything new. at all. ever. we should all just go peruse antique shoppes, flea markets, thrift stores, for – in those places just brimming over with possibility – it is probable that we would find all we need. and more.

we really do love a good antique boutique filled with vintage treasures just waiting to be re-homed.

because i agree with annie leonard (greenpeace), “there is no such thing as ‘away’. when we throw anything away it must go somewhere,” we have not yet disposed of our (decades and decades) old range. we have, instead, cherished it and putzed with it when it was struggling. but it is not in a landfill somewhere and, for that and for its long, long lifeline, i am grateful.

we were on the quest for a single ladder – to add to our deck with a purple sweet potato vine. we wanted a bit of interest over in the corner and found a stack of single ladders outside our favorite antique shoppe. but in the steps between where we parked big red and the ladder stack, there was this little garden table. d instantly stopped and drew it to my attention.

because our backyard is – indeed – our sanctuary, a small peeling paint white garden table could be the perfect addition – over there, on the deck, next to the railing that defines the potting stand garden.

$20.

but there is a sale. 20-40% off.

we buy our chosen ladder (who knew there were so many different widths?) and bring it out to the truck, ready to leave.

but that garden table.

it called us as we walked by. the second time.

so we went back to look at it, to wonder at its story, at where it had been, at its character as evidenced by its patina.

we snapped a photo and went inside – just to ask.

because we have been there many, many times, the gal at the checkout knows us. she asked me what I wanted to pay (though we weren’t yet sure we wanted to purchase it.) i replied $10 and her quick answer was, “sold!” i couldn’t help but wonder what a small garden table with as much joie de vivre would cost in a retail shop, a garden store, a catalog.

we happily loaded up this small sweet table and readily re-homed it on that spot on the deck, placing a soft green petite licorice plant on top.

every day – several times a day – we step outside and are deeply sated by this place of sanctuary. we wander to each plant, each herb, each grass, our aspen tree, and marvel at the growth in this hot-humid-greenhouse-type summer. we express, once again, gratitude for this space and its stuff.

and we plan our next trip – just to stroll about, to tell stories as we see items with which we had grown up, to goof about purchasing items completely out of our taste or – sometimes – completely out of taste at all. it is always an adventure.

to borrow from home goods advertising, we go finding. only our finds are the things people no longer want and wish to sell, the items that may have ended up disposed of, tossed out. our finds are filled with the magic of repurpose. they have stories we don’t know and can only imagine. they have new stories we have created for them. in turn, they create a place of tranquility and easy serenity.

and in some small way, we have saved the earth – even just a little – by saving one more thing from ‘away’.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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not just for breakfast anymore. [kerri’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab.]

yesterday we had lunch on the deck. in our pjs. and it was not saturday. so – voila! – there go the rules! besides…what are the rules AND who makes them???

we were not – unfortunately – in our matchy-matchy red buffalo plaid flannels. it’s too warm for those. but pjs nevertheless. though, i must say, we have seen plenty of people out-and-about in their pj bottoms – i mean, anywhere and everywhere. i have encouraged d to not be so modest about his pj-wearing. we are right in fashion, apparently.

regardless of our hesitation to be pj-forward in all places, there is nothing quite so delicious as breakfast-on-the-deck followed hours later by lunch-on-the-deck…all in our pajamas.

it was a week of weeks and that discounts all the rules. period.

pjs at breakfast and pjs at lunch.

it’s not like we were in the FRONT yard.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this SATURDAY MORNING

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in the taffy-pull. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

i procrastinate putting away the wrought iron table and chairs. i just want to leave a couple pillows out, a place to sit, the possibility of a meal – one more time – at the table on the deck.

all the other things-of-summer are put away. we’ve cleared the potting stand. we’ve transplanted the lavender. we’ve put the tiki torches and the fire column in the garage. the old door and the black and white prayer flags are taken down and the rugs are rolled up. it’s not easy – this nod to impending winter. and so, we keep out the wrought iron table and chairs and just a couple pillows.

and this week – it has been possible – because this week has been a gift of sun and warmth. and this week we have been able to stretch it out a bit longer, pulling on the taffy of early-autumn just a little bit more.

it’s like a gear-up moment. a chance to sit – for no other purpose but sitting – in the sun. a chance to ponder the coming holiday season. a chance to daydream a bit. a chance to let go – even momentarily – of worry.

and when bellaruth – in my guided imagery meditation – asks me to imagine a place, to see it, to feel it all around me – i would guess that one of those places might be sitting at this outside table, pillow behind me, feet on another chair, eyes closed in the sun. or maybe, sitting on the edge of the deck in the taffy-pull of glorious fall days.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

Autumn Hillside

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the edges of autumn. [two artists tuesday]

somehow breck knows. nature, in all its wisdom, whispers “it’s approaching” and breck’s gorgeous aspen leaves begin to turn.

we sat against our pillows with coffee this morning, a cool breeze through the bedroom windows. the crows were cawing and i could hear the lake pound the rocky shore. there is a beach hazards alert today calling for rip currents and higher waves. it’s a little grey out – the day i am writing this – and you can feel fall in the air. the wistfuls are at bay, waiting just a little longer to kick in.

but the grasses are evidence, as plumes of gold and maroon shoot up toward the sky. the cherry tomato leaves are beginning to yellow. the long stems of daylily flowers – sans blooms – are drying. the chippies are amping things up. there are just a few less birds in the morning and we hear geese overhead. up-north, along the side of the lake as we paddled, there were pockets of color. maples turning just a bit, reds and yellows, catching the sunlight. the mornings were cool, sweatshirt-worthy. playing bags in the garage invited a few yellowjackets, their quest to stay alive in september always pre-empting my ease outside as i try to avoid getting stung. it is quieter here at home during the day; school has started. it’s dark now when we wake up and the sun is setting earlier in the evening. autumn is arriving. we are standing at the edges.

we sat on the deck late saturday afternoon after a day of chores around the house. we talked about how it is already september. we tried to remember june. i opened the photo gallery on my phone and went back to the end of may so we could track the events these months. dates and happenings blurred as we strolled through pictures and not-too-distant memories. how does this happen? time flying by.

at the end of a week fraught with sudden worry, we were grateful. we had ridden the roller coaster of fear and intense concern, we had been lingering for days in not-knowing. we reached the end of the week with a few answers, the best of the possible worrisome scenarios. and we were grateful.

breck’s leaves quaked in the breeze that picked up that evening. a few raindrops fell on us. we stayed in our adirondack chairs on the deck and turned our faces to the sky. autumn is coming – in the way seasons roll round and round – and we are happy to greet it.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY


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here, he gazes north. [d.r. thursday]

on island he gazed south. here, at home, he gazes north.

it doesn’t matter that there are inches of snow piles on the deck. ever the snowdog, he lays in it, relishing the cold, and gazes north. i wonder what he is thinking.

dogga is rarely still. he seeks the bark-back of other dogs in the ‘hood, standing in the middle of the backyard. he runs around the opposite-traffic-circle sign, around the pond, to the fence, then the other. scoping out, trying to get the attention of simply any other canine.

but there are those moments, in the middle of his self-initiated fray, that he is quiet and still and he poses, like the lions “patience” and “fortitude” flanking the front of the new york public library. “patience” and “fortitude” have been trademarked and are featured in the logo and all of the library’s marketing shenanigans. perhaps dogdog is the branding of our backyard, of our home. gazing north. or – simply – gazing.

for we, too, are gazers. we sit and ponder. we gaze and wonder. we watch the backyard change seasons as we change seasons.

the other day dogga was laying on the bed when i walked into the bedroom. i sat down next to him, his wagawag-tail thumping. i told him all the stuff i was thinking about, because isn’t that one of the reasons we HAVE dogs?

he listened. thump. listened. thump thump thump.

he did not solve anything. he did not answer any of my questions nor did he ask any questions. he did not agree or disagree. he did not argue for reason. he just listened. with patience and fortitude.

were i to lay in the snow with dogdog on the back deck gazing north perhaps i would also have more patience and fortitude in this season of time. at the very least, i would be in the best of company.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

gaze and browse david’s online gallery