It was just one thousand, four hundred and seventy-five days. That’s all there were.

Just now, whilst re-arranging my closet, I came across another reminder of those last days of Tim’s life. Some sort of bed liners that the palliative Nurse had given us, and for some insane reason I’d saved the stupid things. Crazy really, but I suppose it’s my Grandma in me not wanting stuff to go to waste, because “you never know when it may come in handy“.

So it was June 1st, and it was already 20.6 degrees Celsius at 9:11AM, and it was a Sunday Morning.

My plans were simple – compromised of hand washing my underclothes in the sink, washing bed-clothes, airing out the whole lot outside, and packing away the winter, once and for all. And taking a nice long walk with the furry beastie. Perhaps even a short visit with an old friend from Dodge.

I found the bed liners when I was going through one of the 5 storage bags I moved all my cloths in from the cottage. They took me by complete surprise, and caused a few minutes of deep grief and memories to spill out. Dang things, those memories.

At the back of this closet sits the little suitcase that holds the pajamas he was wearing when he died you know Mom. I keep looking at it, wondering if I should open it up.

No, my heart says, please no.

~~~ *** ~~~

So I’ve aired the whole place out, and all over the ground outside are all these slippery Elm key’s…like confiti all over my little outdoor space. I think it looks lovely, almost FEYish. It really makes me smile.

So the Grnarl has found a new home. My outside garden is simple, practical. It is all rocks and dirt and concrete and fresh green leaves, and clay pots, and furry beasties. Very similar to where we found the Gnarl. It adds alittle of the Grey County raw beauty I’d grown to love. It brings just that whiff of the Lakeside Forests Tim and I used to transverse…makes for lovely, peaceful memories. Good things. Simpler things…even when it was all wrong, but somehow right…strangely.

I brought some of that magic with me.

So here is where the Gnarl sits outside my door, in its new home. The rock on top of the tin is also from the back woods behind the cottage. So I have a piece of the very bones of the place. And sitting underneath the toadstool of the Gnarl, rests my Gargoyle. All poked and old-looking. It even has a lovely patch of moss growing in the crook of his arm.

And I can’t forget the Stone Cat, which once served as Gizmo’s Memoral at the Lake, where she spent her last 2 years.

An excellent retirement for an elderly cat. Spending sunny days laying in the cool shade, on the hot ground under the Tomatoes. Note the shadow beside her – Shoe Monster perhaps? I keep his ashes in an Urn. So they can once again share a spot of sun together I suppose. I guess you can bring the magic with you wherever you go.

What I’ve grown to love about this lovely place, is the cool breezes, it keeps the heat at bay. If you keep all the other blinds shut, keep the fan on, leave the door open, and open up the screen window. With the little orange fan sweeping back in forth it directs all the bad energy out the door. POOF !!! be gone. :-)

Love,