...composing as a privilege...

I did not intend to blog today because I should be doing so many other things but as I am prepping for my spring semester courses, one of which is Dark Tourism, I needed to review some of the places I have been. I came here and, well, here I am writing.


I have been writing a great deal lately. I just haven’t been here. Life gets busy and I neglect certain aspects of life that I do enjoy. I have been working on a cozy mystery, which I was inspired to start after attending the 5th Annual Suffolk Mystery Authors Festival and meeting Charlaine Harris in August. A colleague/friend encouraged me to participate in #NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) in November; while I did not come anywhere close to meeting the 50,000 word count, I started and that’s something. I actually wrote 15,000 words, which I was proud of having not written a novel before. Sometimes I feel guilty writing for fun. I have an academic chapter, which I have yet to start, due somewhat soon. And, I need to work on my course syllabi.

I have a tendency to alter that which I enjoy into some type of work or service. It is something that I am working on. But, it is very much one of the benefits of my job. If I like reading about dark, spooky places, I can make a course out of it. That worked for vampires and cemeteries in the past.

I still run a cemetery group. I gave a Christmas tour at one of my favorite cemeteries on December 23^rd. With approximately 200 people in attendance and a very not-so-great voice amplifier, I am thrilled folks had a good time and said that they learned a bit too. You can see a video here which shows what 200 people following one lowly tour guide looks like.

I have been trying to visit some new-to-me cemeteries so that the only time I visit cemeteries is with my cemetery group. I do enjoy gallivanting alone. Last week I tried to visit the Bazile family cemetery in Hanover, VA but it was surrounded by no trespassing signs and, well, I’m a rule-follower. I did take some photos from right outside the signage. The family cemetery, like the property altogether, has been taken over by weeds. In the second picture, if you look near the bottom of the house, you can see a black iron fence. This surrounds the graves and appears to have been added after the property was abandoned. You can see this more clearly in the last two pictures which Connie over at Hartwood Roses took in 2007.

The cemetery includes Jean Maurice Bazile (1826-1896), a Hanover farmer whose family immigrated from France in the 1840s. During a devastating grape infestation in France, Jean Maurice sent cuttings from his farm "French Hay” to his former home in France to help save the crops.

Photo: Connie at Hartwood Roses, 2007

His grandson is also buried in the family cemetery. Leon Maurice Bazile (1890-1967) was a judge known for rulings in Loving v. Virginia. He also was known for his defense of white supremacy and for being a defender of Virginia’s segregation laws.

Photo: Connie at Hartwood Roses, 2007

When I posted about this on social media, a friend noted that she enjoyed when I wrote about these little tidbits of history and how she missed reading my blog posts. I enjoy writing about the cemeteries that I visit too; and, I have missed the blogosphere. Since I came here to look up posts for my course, this blog benefits me more that I realized. Of course, there is also you fine folks who follow along. I have enjoyed becoming friends with so many of your over the years.

Finally, while I do not usually make resolutions for the new year, I saw a post about selecting one word to represent 2019. I picked compose for all of its multiple meanings.

1.write or create;
2. constitute or make up (a whole);

3. calm or settle (oneself or one's features or thoughts).

This week I am continuing that project I began on November 1. I also should consider rededicating myself to this blog. After all, with a new home, I will have many exciting gardening posts to make. I am composing a new home; a new garden; and, in many ways, a new life.

Happy New Year!

Our house covered in snow. If you look closely, you can see that the fence was stained Sherwin-Williams semi-transparent 'Atlantic'. I love it!

...blood, sweat, tears, and black mulch...

We have been in our new home for about two months. As soon as the house was mostly put together, I took to the yard. It has been quite an adventure. We assumed based on the condition that our house had been rental property for about a decade. The yard appeared to have once been loved and then left on its on for a good 8-10 years. We have over a foot of old fallen pine needles, which the English ivy and poison ivy vines decided would make a great home. I was able to clear about three feet of extra pavement for our driveway that had been covered but after a month of fighting the poison ivy, I called for help. I do not have the strength nor the time to keep fighting this battle.

The messy beginning post weeding

The first days

The garden patio in the backyard included weeds, morning glories, and Jack-in-the-Pulpit plants. The morning glories smothered everything until I added trellises. 
 

We have 0.35 acres of land, a third of which includes a copse of trees behind our home: tall pines, an oak, two sweet gum trees, crape myrtles and shrubs as large as trees including red tip photinia and Rose of Sharon. To that, I have already added two baby crape myrtles including a red dynamite and an ebony and ivory. 

Pumpkin in progress

Hibiscus, cactus garden, Ebony & Ivory Crape Myrtle, etc.

Later this week, we have hired landscapers to not only clean out the poison ivy and English ivy that has overtaken the backyard copse but they are adding another crape myrtle in the front yard (we’re tucking ourselves in and blocking the views of neighbors!) and a red bud tree on the corner. We purchased boulders and rocks (my fella’s request) and after hauling twenty bags of black mulch (my car can only accommodate eight bags at a time), the landscapers are bringing and adding the mulch to the front yard. Until then, here are the views of my work-in-progress garden. 

Blood, sweat, tears, and black mulch make everything a bit better.

... my last garden...

If you read one of my previous posts, you know that this summer has been a whirlwind of buying, moving, and selling houses. Today at 4pm *knock on wood* the buyer should close on the townhouse and we will return to being one-house-homeowners.

I walked through my new garden this morning. We have a tiny pumpkin growing. If he makes it, I will share him with you soon. There are blooms that I did not expect this year. We dug up and moved as many of the plants as we could and planted them here at our new home. Some did not make it. Some have balled up and decided that maybe they will consider life next spring. And, some, despite all the odds and doing what experts say not to do when transplanting precious gardens, have bloomed beautifully.

This morning I am reflecting about the old garden and its last blooms because that place will never be the same as it was; and, neither will I.