The Daily Respite

2 weeks ago | dailyrespite.substack.com | Clara Parkes

Good morning!It’s Sunday, and we’ve earned ourselves a moment by the bay. But what, pray tell, is this sinister yellow muck swirling around at the water’s edge? Is there a paint spill? An algal bloom underway? Toxic waste from some unknown origin? Fortunately, none of the above. The very same pollen that’s been covering porch furniture, turning white cars yellow, and making our allergies act up has also descended upon the water.

3 weeks ago | dailyrespite.substack.com | Clara Parkes

It’s Saturday, and it’s National Chocolate Ice Cream Day. We have our marching orders. “One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”Starting, of course, with dessert.

3 weeks ago | dailyrespite.substack.com | Clara Parkes

Good morning!It’s Friday. And unlike yesterday’s mystery flowers, which Bear insists he didn’t plant, I know exactly where these hellebores—or “lenten roses”—came from and how they ended up where they did. For a long time, my aunt Judy has tended a thriving patch of lenten roses in her Michigan garden. I tried to get some established in our garden the year we moved in, and I very much failed. Since then, I always cringe when I see them at the garden store.

3 weeks ago | dailyrespite.substack.com | Clara Parkes

Good morning!It’s Thursday. One of the many joys of gardening with another person is when something appears that neither of you remembers having planted—as is the case with these beautiful purple flowers that just appeared under the living room window. “Are you sure you didn’t put them there?” I ask. “Are you sure you didn’t put them there?” my beloved replies. Perhaps we’re both mistaken and this is the work of Patrick, or Richard, or even Ralph?

3 weeks ago | dailyrespite.substack.com | Clara Parkes

Good morning!It’s Wednesday. In my dreams, I’d have a wall big enough to do a climbing hydrangea justice. Many years ago I planted one by the old front door. It quickly outgrew its paltry trellis and started scaling the front of the house, eating our paint and wood siding as it went. With a heavy sigh, the hydrangea had to go. Now I can only admire other people’s climbing hydrangeas—and, in particular, this one.