things aren’t always as they appear but in this case what you see really is just a big pile of clay pots sitting in front of a mirror with a blue house in the background

A few years ago I was driving down a quiet backstreet on Capitol Hill and spied a neatly stacked pyramid of clay pots in a grassy parking strip next to a “free” sign and so they ended up piled in the back of our car. During the intervening years they’ve functioned mainly as a barrier to seedlings from our neighbor’s plum tree. The seedlings have a tendency to sprout right next to our garden shed and they can be a pain in the butt to dig out. Enter pile of clay pots. I thought they looked nice in a gardeny sort of way, so I left them sitting there over the years. Adam and I moved a few to the side garden to be by the black bamboo and decorate this mirror.

My Mom found this mirror a few years ago, she intended for us to put it in the foyer. It’s a nice mirror but I’m just not into heavy oak furniture. I thought about painting it, problem is the dang thing must weigh 100 pounds. I’d need to rip the wall open and put up a few timbered beams, haha! Ever since, it has been sitting in the basement. It’s the mirror I stand in front of in my underwear three times a year to see how fat I’ve gotten (it’s by the washing machine- you know how it is, throw your second-to-last clean pair of underwear in and dash to the shower before any neighbors spot you).

I like the mirror across from our kitchen window, by the black bamboo. We’ve got the bamboo in the spot where it will be: Adam and I dug it back out yesterday so we could get the bamboo barrier in place. Let me tell you, two feet doesn’t sound like a lot but I felt like I was on the verge of striking molten rock. Our efforts were complicated by the roots of the nearby pencil tree. All for a nervous transplant. I don’t think it will take in it’s current state (our little grove must be 9 feet high). We hacked off some pretty big roots to move it out of Mark’s yard. It will come around, but it may end up starting over at ground-level culms.

Tomorrow we might be the new owners of an old train signal. This morning Adam and I saw it sitting on the ground in front of a Phinney Ridge antiques store. We saw it at the same time and fell enthralled to it’s spell. We went into the claustrophobic shop where Adam caused nearly thousands of dollars in damage merely by breathing and displacing hundred year old dust so we politely asked the owner about the train signal and then went back outside and drooled on it for about twenty minutes: She wants a little too much for it but she could tell we were serious and offered to slash the price. The main problem is I severely doubt Diana will let us have it someplace like the livingroom, it’s too much of a man-cave furnishing. It would be neat to have by the computer in the little room next to the kitchen. The shopkeeper is holding it for us until tomorrow morning. She’s had interest from the owner of a furniture store in Ballard, that was her only card. Be honest, is it just a dumb idea? Yes, that’s what I thought.

This afternoon Adam and I picked out his first baseball glove.

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