BY DEE BLAIR
Local columinist
March 30, 2008 10:53 am Gazing out at the snowy garden, I fidget. Maybe I'll go out there with a hair dryer and hurry things along. After reveling in a deep, white winter, I'm longing for workable, sun-warmed earth. Fascinating books, though, keep me distracted. Seventy-year-old Clarissa Dickson Wright, a truly talented writer and one of Britain's best-loved TV cooks, has penned her witty, eye-popping life story, "Spilling the Beans." Riveted, I read it in one gulp. Nothing is "air-brushed." She's unusually blunt, full of outrageous, self-deprecating humor and deep insights. She was the youngest woman to win a law degree at 21. Her vivid verbal portraits of famous friends, her tumble into depression following the early death of her beloved mother, alcoholic ruin, then her phoenix-like rise from the ashes amazed me. My dinner languished, the fire went out, time stopped. This brilliant, fey, no-nonsense motorcycle lady gave me quite a ride! I'd love to meet her! M.C. Beaton has written yet another delightful Hamish Macbeth mystery, "Death of a Gentle Lady," which waited expectantly on the library's rental shelf. I snatched it up happily, eager to follow this interesting, red-haired policeman's latest professional adventures, and his star-crossed love life. Hamish's rapport with his dog and cat, and his run-ins with Chief Inspector Blair, a dysfunctional superior who's constantly threatened by Hamish's sometimes uncanny intuition, makes for lively reading. Wow! Scottish village life is never dull. Today, though, I'm determined to thwart my packrat tendencies. Junk is proliferating in our roomy, memory-filled attic. The suitcases alone are breeding rapidly; they've doubled in quantity over the years, and their little ones — travel-worn backpacks, knapsacks, carry-ons — are crowding me out. Ridiculous! Pretty soon we'll have to consider moving; these "et ceteras" are taking over. So, an industrial-strength garbage bag and I have marched up here; we won't leave until it's filled. This simple rule always yields satisfying results. Nibbling away at a task works. Nicer things will go to Goodwill, or be sold; the rest are gleefully chucked. Elderly boxes harbor defunct tree lights, broken Christmas bulbs and frizzled Styrofoam Santas. Tired piles of old magazines, and even older shoes, are scattered around, cuddled by fat dust bunnies. What was I thinking! It's freezing, but in no time I'm warm from dragging clothing-crammed boxes into the light and shifting ancient furniture, including one giant old steamer trunk kids could practically camp in. But, Oh! Our children's infant outfits are hugged close. These are treasures. Only yesterday Jen and Lisa trotted off to kindergarten with Kermit beaming on this jumper, and the Cookie Monster looking hopeful on that lunchbox. Sometimes, long-ago scenes are just a blink away. I gaze outside my aerie's grubby window and sigh, hearing my daughters singing Sesame Street songs. Enough! That bag's only half-full; move to the next thing! Focus. Suddenly, in a dark corner, about waist-high, where the roof rafters move toward the floor, I spot something curved, metallic and vaguely familiar wedged between huge, time-darkened rafters. The object resists my probing fingers, but I pull and tug — and, finally, out pops a good-sized, ancient rug beater! Looking it over, I distinctly hear a small boy's triumphant whisper; "She'll never find it here!" It seems so real I actually start and look around; it's not the first time this residence has hinted at lives thriving here a century ago. Many poignant memories have permeated these stout timbers, to echo gently in receptive ears. Perhaps my parental, olden-days sigh prompted the house to give up this one. I shiver, smile, and say, softly, "No, she never did…" Dee Blair has cultivated her English secret garden at Sunnybank on Sixth Street in Traverse City for 15 years. Open to visitors in season, the garden is currently closed. She can be reached care of the Record-Eagle, or via e-mail at blairdee@gmail.com. Also, see her blog, which often elaborates on columns, at http://blogs.record-eagle.com.
—
Copyright © 1999-2008 cnhi, inc.
Photos
Dee Blair