Small towns generally have a good sense of how to be a neighbor. Larger places have forgotten the art. Before we were even moved into our new home a lady down the street brought us a cake. Our next-door neighbor looked after our place for several months while we were in transition because we bought this place quite some time before we were able to sell the place where we were living.
Of course, everyone needs a good banker. I am thankful for community banks. We found a good one and not only have they been helpful from a banking standpoint, they have been invaluable in helping us to meet people in the community. The loan officer who helped with our home financing invited us to church and made sure we were welcome and spent a large amount of time making sure we met the pastor and sunday school teachers and anyone else who walked by. Of course, there's no way I can remember all the names or put them with the correct faces.
We have spent many hours already on the yard. It is a comfortable, inviting yard with lots of big trees and flowering plants. The previous owner was a student of our next-door neighbor who came from a family that owned a nursery. Some day I hope to be able to name all the different plants growing in the many flower beds that we have. I'll post a couple of photos at the bottom.
Anyway, settling in takes some time. At our age, which by-the-way I don't feel all that old on the inside, it is a little strange to be settling in. That is a term that denotes nesting. We aren't nesting. We are empty-nesters. I suppose that's part of the reason for the move. Priorities change as we age.
Although I will continue in my same job and occupation, we will begin to focus on some new things. Ventures that have been held out in the future as dreams to work towards. More on that later.
Chris
2 comments:
So, to what will you change the name of your blog?
Landscaping in that country is a lot of fun, with one exception: the St. Augustine grass. I refer to is as demonically-possessed bermuda. If you sit still in the yard for more than a few minutes, it will devour you.
That bottom thing looks like an Azalea. If it is next to brick/concrete, feed it lots of acid (plant food, not LSD).
Is the other primrose? Photo too small to tell.
Have fun!
J.B.
Your question is interesting and one that has crossed my mind. But, first I must question whether I should even change the name of my blog. After all, the Texas Panhandle has left an indelible mark on me. I will have to live here at least 50 years to have spent more time here than in the Panhandle.
As to the photos, yes, azaleas. I think both the pink and the red are azaleas. The abundance of blooms was astounding. There are 8 or 10 of them around the front of the house. They seem to bloom in groups. About the time the blooms from one group have faded, another group begins to blossom. They are gorgeous.
St. Augustine grass. I am learning to deal with St. Augustine. I was first introduced to it in my days in College Station. It works well here. The runners do seem demonic in how they don't grow into the few bare spots in the yard but, instead seek to exploit tiny cracks in the sidewalk. When no cracks exist, they run on seeking a crack rather than taking root in the direction you wish, and vainly attempt, to train them.
The most interesting thing to me as a Panhandle native is that I've spent most of my life attempting to grow things through great effort and much TLC. Here, the problem is quite in opposition to that. It is a constant struggle to prevent things growing that you've no wish to allow to establish. Oak and pecan trees come up everywhere. We have wild blackberries and wild strawberries coming up in the yard and in flowerbeds. Wild grapevines attempt to gain a foothold in the flowerbeds. It is amazing to me how I can pull a garbage bag full of weeds (defined as any plant growing where one does not wish it to grow) one day only to find they have been completely replaced with new seedlings two days later.
It's a good thing I find yard work to be relaxation from the mental labors of my occupation...
Chris
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