While Dearly Beloved remained at the beach to play Robinson Crusoe for a few weeks after I returned to Charlotte, he e-mailed daily photos of the ocean during his walks. We were probably in touch by phone and e-mails a dozen times a day. For instance, I e-mailed him regularly:
“Have you killed that Copperhead yet?”
He assured me that he looked every day. He thought it had moved on.
Since we remind ourselves of the characters in the Pickles comic strip these days, I tried not to nag. Let’s call them loving reminders.
Remember this ugly plant at the beach-house-not-on-the-beach? I’ve written about it previously. It hasn’t gotten any better looking since then; this picture is recent:
After I’d been back for a couple of weeks, I e-mailed to make sure DB was watering the plant regularly. I was pretty confident he was, since the plant is obviously hard to overlook. Or so one would think.
Are you watering the tree in the living room?
yes, if you count right now
On his drive back here this weekend, DB called to tell me he’d stopped to eat along the way, so he wouldn’t want dinner. I made something for myself, starting with one of those cheese-stuffed pasta packages from the dairy case. When DB arrived and saw it, he said that perhaps he could eat just a small amount after all.
I had left similar packages in the fridge at the beach for him and he’d told me that he’d eaten all of them, so I was surprised at the gusto with which he attacked the dish.
“This is really special,” he raved, even though I prepare it regularly.
I said, “Isn’t this how you fixed yours? Olive oil… fresh basil… tomatoes?”
“Well, I didn’t have any basil.”
“Sure you did. I set out several plants in June.”
He looked at me blankly. “I guess I missed them. Where did you plant them?”
“Right across from the sliding glass doors in the living room, next to the tomato plants.”
“Tomato plants? There were tomato plants?”
I can’t remember why I took this photo, but it was before the tomato plants started to grow. However, look in the middle of the shot at the green squares of a trellis. That’s the support I used for the tomatoes and the basil. Notice that you’re looking from inside the house–the view on the way to our bedroom and bath. (Yes, that’s a spike of the ugly plant on the right.)
The trellis is bout six feet away from the area where I saw the Copperhead sunning himself, so this is the territory DB “searched” every day. Would a man who overlooked three tomato plants and some very pungent basil notice a snake if it didn’t stand up and whistle to him?
I should have placed a golf ball in front of the plants. THAT, he would have noticed.
Not that I have any room to criticize. One afternoon while I was here alone, I took a long walk. I usually go barefooted around the house, so I rooted around in the closet for some comfortable shoes. As soon as I returned, I stepped out of the shoes in the front hall. When I bent over to pick them up to put them away, this is what I discovered I’d worn: