Fear not! It shall not come to pass! When the owners came by to see their property, they talked seriously of painting our little white house brown with white trim, but the house was painted last week, and white (with slate blue) it stayed!
In other news, a gross carnage came to pass in our gardens, connected with this house-painting. I went out into the yard after the deed was done, and discovered that Grandpa’s hostas had been trampled. And, in some instances, painted snowy white. My poor darlings’ stalks are broken, and their leaves torn. I up-ended an entire pitcher of water over each of them (I’m finding it impossible to water anything too much in Colorado–the sun and heat seems to scorch everything,) but I think there shall be no return to glory this season.
I don’t know what to do if we move. I suppose the hostas shall have to be left behind–we’re looking mainly at apartments, and you can’t really make a hosta into a houseplant. To have to live in a place without springtime lilacs, too, rather breaks one’s heart. But we shall do what must be done.
I have to confess, the Little White House gardens aren’t doing so well. They seem to invite calamity. The other week, or kind, generous lawn-mower mowed right over the top of the green beans and reduced them to bloody three inch stumps. And the peas seem not to appreciate the heat, because though they were producing proper pods to begin with, they become more mutantly by the day. The hydrangeas are doing middling at best; I think the one in front died. And those vicious sweet peas which I tore and dug out of the side garden have come back and taken over once more. It seems like they’re the only thing that will grow properly–but no matter how I thin them, they turn into a jungle anyhow.
But at least we’re still the Girls of the Little White House. Because Brown House totally doesn’t have the same ring.