Today started too wet, and continued too windy, to finish painting the awning. So I picked another item on the list:
Mortaring the cast stones in the fire ring.
We have big, beautiful plans moving out from the fire ring. Brilliant and one-of-a-kind sort of stuff that I am not going to tell you about it now.
Neener. Neener. Neener.
That said, I unstacked the ring, which has been in place since I laid the pavers at the center of the clearing last summer. I have to practice working with mortar since I have some considerable tuck-pointing on the house to do in the near future.
Admittedly, the spacing and vents are not as even as when the cast stones were stacked loose, but I am happy with what it is. I suspect that the uneven lop-sided-ness will serve the overall primitive look of the finished project. You know, the one I am not telling you about. Yet.
Sometimes, when I look out into our side yard. I see the already overgrown slope garden, and the raised cedar veggie beds, and the start of the gravel pathways, and the wildflower beds, and the as-yet-unfinished fire circle, and I see this disparate clump of things.
But I know myself.
I know when I set a vision and a long-term path to it, it may seem hodgepodge and a heap of separate things. But one weekend, I will wake up and head out into the gardens to start a project and the only thing left to do will be to sit and enjoy the dazzling beauty of the day and the sun reflecting of the magnificence of the wabi-sabi garden that we build at our wabi-sabi cottage as part of our journey through our wabi-sabi life.