Mulberry Jam

Finally, after more than three weeks of chaotic conditions, my household is returning to normal. Or what passes for normal around here, anyway. I’m happy to report that our carpet and padding were saved, and we were able to put it all back down after thoroughly drying it out from the flood. We’re quite thankful, and perfectly willing to overlook a few seams and bumps that didn’t show before.

Ironically, the most expensive part of the whole event may be the new television we now plan to buy. No, the flood didn’t damage the old TV. It’s just that having given ourselves minor hernias moving the big heavy unit out of the room when the water was coming in, we started to think how pleasant it was in the room without that big hulking presence. Once we’d moved the old TV out, it hardly seemed worthwhile to go to the trouble of moving it back in, especially since we’d been thinking of replacing it anyway. Did you know those nice flat-panel televisions they make nowadays only weigh about fifty pounds? Featherweight!

So we’ve been TV-less for three weeks now, and have hardly missed it. We’re kind of enjoying living the life of a 1940s couple. We listen to baseball games on the radio, we go out to the movies, we listen to vinyl records in the evenings or go to visit friends. It’s all very retro. We discussed making the lifestyle permanent, but decided we’d miss TV more in the winter. We do like watching old movies and I know Mark would miss seeing the Washington Capitals’ hockey games. Mark is now deep into the consumer research over the new models, and he seems to be having fun.

Now that the area has dried out from the deluge, we’re settling into a real summertime hot spell. Heat index over 100 all week, code-red air quality, the works. By mid afternoon each day everything outside is wilting: the plants, the animals and the people. I get outside before 8AM on these mornings to soak all my potted plants, water the flower and vegetable beds, and refill the bird baths.

In fact, I’m quite pleased with the birdbath we’ve put in place this summer. Earlier in the spring, the squirrels knocked over my ceramic birdbath and broke it. When I found out how much it was going to cost to replace the bowl, I started looking for alternatives. I mean, spending $35 for a replacement top that the squirrels would just knock over again didn’t seem wise. Mark came up with an ingenious alternative. Now we have a terra cotta dish that’s actually meant as a saucer for large pots. It sits on top of an overturned flowerpot, about six inches above the patio. It’s the perfect depth for large and even small birds, and they absolutely love it. It sees easily three times the traffic the old birdbath did. Some days we have to refill it twice because the birds have splashed all the water out by lunchtime.

The birds don’t seem to mind that their new birdbath didn’t cost more than a few dollars. Another perfect example of my mulberry jam philosophy—making something sweet out of what’s right in front of you.