We moved into our new place at the beginning of February, during California's rainy season. The backyard was a mess, but we were told by our landlord (LLD, as we'll call him) that we would soon see major improvements, complete with garden beds, a shed and some new plants.
Sweet, right?
We thought so, too.
We still do, but the excitement turned to slight frustration over the course of the last five months, as it's taken LLD that long to get the show on the road. We're certainly grateful for the shed and garden beds, but every time we saw him over course of the last five months, he'd say, "I'm going to start on that shed soon..." and then another month would go by. On top of that, the yard looked like a jungle. A real one. Justin had to use a machete to cut down some of the thicker weeds that our man-powered lawn mover couldn't cut through. But I digress...
In just the last two weeks, Team Thompson + LLD have accomplished much. It just took a couple nights of Justin announcing that he'd work until the sun went down to get LLD to follow suit (because he generally puts in one hour and calls it a night). So good work, JT!
Now the shed is up. The garden beds are in. There's dirt in the beds. We've filled the shed. There are plants in the beds. It's awesome.
Here's a series of pictures to show the progression.
One of the first pics of the backyard. It was still a baby jungle.
But the jungle grew. As did the mulberry tree that needed a good trimming.
In a moment of desperation, in hopes to not be deemed the "scrappiest house on the block," we bought a man-powered lawn mower.
Weeds mowed, macheted and knocked down.
With the jungle mowed/hacked down, Eva came over on Easter to hunt eggs in our yard.
LLD rototilled the areas for building...
Reviewing the plan for the shed and beds.
Pavers for the base of the shed.
With garden beds in place, we bought some plants.
And waited for dirt.
A few weeks later, some dirt appeared. But it wasn't enough.
So Justin watered it and more soil grew.
Just kidding. LLD brought in more compost.
Then we filled it in with a little extra.
Finishing the shed foundation.
Reviewing the building plans.
Time to open the boxes that have been sitting in the yard for more than a month.
Found a window!
The walls go up!
Shed by morning light.
It wasn't a tornado. It was two men that made this mess.
Quite the project, and we still have more to do. LLD wants to get some rock to go around the outside of the beds and had plans to replace most of the fence. No matter how long that takes, we're just glad to have the shed up, so we can get the pile of tarp-covered junk off our patio. We wasted no time to fill up that shed, and we couldn't be happier.
She went up to see Nanny today. She went to see her because she's her momma and she loves her. She also went to see her to check on her because of a story that involves Nanny, last week, a bathtub, 26 hours and no one to help her out. But that's another story for another time.
What my mom texted me was a picture of Nanny's fridge.
And this is what was inside:
Seems I'm not the only one who loves those raspberries in a turquoise bowl. If you look closely, you'll see the cracked-wheat bread in there, too!
I just love raspberries, don't you? I've eaten them my whole life, yet, somehow, every time I pop open a new container of the red gems, I fall in love with the flavor all over again.
There's nothing like the sweet-tangy flavor of a ripe raspberry.
I think another reason I love them so is because of the flood of memories that wash over me with each berry.
The flavor and fragrance of raspberries always make me think of my Nanny and Bampa, my mother's mom and dad. Nanny and Bampa had raspberry bushes in their yard and, during their season, that's the first place I'd head when we'd go visit. I'd run straight to those bushes.
I have memories from a very young age...probably at 3- or 4-years-old...of going out there with Bampa to pick and eat the raspberries straight off the plant. He'd point out which were the ripest and sweetest. I also remember that I called them strawberries; though he'd remind me each time that they were actually called raspberries, I continued to call them strawberries. I don't know how I even remember that.
Occasionally we'd stay the night at Nanny and Bampa's. If it was a summer morning, I was handed a turquoise bowl and asked to go pick a bowl full of raspberries so we could have them with our breakfast. There is a picture of luscious red berries against the cheery turquoise color of the bowl that's burned in my brain. It's lit just right by the morning sun. I wish I were a painter so I could duplicate it. It makes me happy.
The combination of bright, blue-skied mornings when the sun is already hot on your skin (like this morning), a bowl of raspberries, and the smell of sun-warmed, fine-rock cement that's intertwined with the rich fragrance of sprinkler-soaked soil, takes me back to the times spent in Nanny and Bampa's backyard.
It's home to some of my most favorite childhood memories. It's where we ate Nanny's perfectly scrambled eggs and cracked-wheat toast with real butter (unless we chose Cinnamon Toast Crunch), argued with cousins and brothers over who got the bouncy/rocking patio chair where we'd eat said breakfast, picked fresh raspberries and put them in her turquoise bowls, ran circles around the house by way of the path we created through the front yard shrubbery, made forts in the "forest," rode bikes down the hill as fast as we could, fell out of trees and lost our air, sneaked in to dip all 10 digits in Nanny's hot wax she had to treat arthritis, skinned our knees, had squirt-gun fights, walked across her yard to Aunt Pat's yard to play in the sand box or sit in the hot tub, and, of course, waited for the perfect moment to ask if she would pretty-please take it to Aunt Looie's pool for a swim.
Cousins in Nanny's yard! Top left: Benjamin, Donnie, Carrie, Matt. Bottom left: Maggie, Andrew (taller one), Joe (in stripes), Chris, Kimberly, Kristen. While this picture makes me happy, it also brings a tear to my eye as two are no longer with us: Matt & Kristen.
All these memories play back to a soundtrack of perhaps one of the sweetest and most cherished sounds of my childhood, too: the sound of chatter & laughs from my aunts, uncles, cousins & grandparents, all sitting around the backyard patio, taking in the heat of summer nights.
Well, it looks like mom beat everyone to the bouncy/rocking chair on the patio this time. Aunt, uncles, parents and grandparents pictured at Nanny's: Left (in red) and going clockwise: Uncle Don, Uncle Lou, Aunt Kathy, Nanny, mom, dad. More are usually on the patio...lots more!
You simply can't beat a summer night in the Valley. And you can't beat the flavor of a ripe raspberry.
I wish I could go back to a time on the patio right now, but I guess this bowl of raspberries, in one of my turquoise bowls, of course, will have to do.
He wasn't too happy about it. I can't imagine anyone really is when it comes down to it. He was a good sport, though, and took it like a champ. Well, until I hung the "Celebrating 30" sign (pictured above) on the front door. He asked that I take it down until later in the afternoon.
As we have a backyard now, I decided to have a s'mores party for Justin's birthday. With [surprise] fire pit in hand, I checked the forecast and sent out e-invites for a supposedly rain-free S'mores Smorgasbord at the Thompsons.
My friend, Heather, helped come up with a few snazzy s'mores suggestions, as did our friend Google.com, and we went to work on the line-up:
The menu. Click the picture to get a better view. Layout and drawing by the talented Heather Brackett. If I'd tried to draw marshmallows, they'd be stick marshmallows, and that wouldn't look good.
We decorated the back yard and I also stocked up on Duraflame logs, only to find out later that those logs aren't meant for cooking, but we'll get to that in a bit.
Heather came over early to help get the s'mores smorgasbord set up. By that time, bigger, dark clouds were rolling in and looking ominous. I shrugged them off, remembering my weather.com app had shown no warning of rain. Heather's hubs and daughter came over for pre-s'mores hotdogs...
Clouds, smhouds. Those couldn't possibly have rain in them, right Bracketts?
...and as we were eating, it started to rain.
We shrugged it off and tried to pretend it wasn't really raining...because the weather.com app told us it wouldn't.
Then it started to rain more. Then folks started calling to see if we were still going to have a s'mores party.
I was determined to have that party...afterall, it's not every day your husband turns 30!
So, Heather and I stood watch over the s'mores spread while we waited for the rain to pass. It finally did and peeps started coming over for roasting and toasting.
It was also around this time we learned Duraflame logs aren't meant for cooking food. Thank goodness for Dan who ran to the store to get real wood. The last thing I wanted to do was poison my guests...more than we'd already poisoned ourselves by eating hotdogs cooked over Duraflames...oops.
But that's when the real fun began. We took out the flaming Duraflames and tried to get them to stop burning. Those suckers burn, I'll tell ya. I also thought I'd help by sprinkling them with my watering can.
But then they called in the big guns.
And we tried to smoke out the neighborhood. I'm surprised the fire department didn't show up! Here's a video of all the excitement:
The rest of the night was great fun. Eventually some worked up the courage to try the Elvis s'more, bacon and all.
If you learn anything from this post, aside from not using Duraflame logs to cook food, know this: the Elvis s'more ain't that bad! If have bacon in your freezer, I'll forgive you for abandoning the rest of this post to go make yourself an Elvis.
Justin was also a good sport and wore the silly "Celebrating 30" hat I got him to wear for all the pictures with our guests. It really is a silly hat, isn't it? Sorry, dear, but thank you for going along with my birthday excitement!
Top left: Justin, Rich, Jen; (top right): Matt, Justin, his dip, Amanda; (bottom left): Justin, his dip, Dan, Laura; (bottom right): Christine, Justin, Mike, Liz (& soon-to-be baby Olivia)
Sunday, Justin's actual birthday, was exciting again. We opened gifts in the morning, went out for donuts with the Bracketts in the afternoon and headed out to a secret location for dinner in the evening.
Click the picture for a bigger image.
Justin was so excited about his new shirt, he couldn't keep his eyes open!
Now...I'd heard of this secret location from ads on the radio. It's called Grill 'Em -- a steakhouse where you can grill your own steak. Now, if there is anyone who loves a steak prepared a certain way (rare...well, raw), it's my husband. I thought it'd be the perfect place.
We walked up the restaurant only to hear "Pour some sugar on me!" coming from behind the doors. Not quietly, either. From the sound and the smell of the place, I thought I was going into Shakers (or the Crazy Squirrel or whatever Shakers is called now. We'll just call it Shakers, ok?). There was indeed a big grill, but no one was using it.
The next song that came blaring, and I mean blaring, through the speakers was "Living Dead Girl." While this place would be awesome with a group of friends while watching a football game or something, it wasn't what I thought it would be and felt bad...see...I'd made a big deal about this place, expecting it to be a nice place for a nice steak dinner for my dearest. I started laughing. Almost uncontrollably. I looked at him, he started laughing. We couldn't hear over the music to speak to each other. They brought us the beers we ordered, we gulped them down and then both pulled out our phones to look for a new venue.
We ended up at what I suspect was the most expensive restaurant on Santana Row and kept chuckling about the events of the day well into the night.
