Painting the picket fence, tender leaves and buttercups

I only do this job in bits and pieces, and have started with the inside of the fence, the part we see from the window that was all dingy, even though it wasn't too noticeable when the birds were gathered on the ground and around the bird feeders, and your eyes were not focused on the fence.

But when you put on your 'company' eyes, oh my, - it called out for some attention!  And so I went to the Irly Bird store and bought a couple of gallons of white recycled outside paint, and doing a couple of hours at a time over the last few days I have it looking quite respectable.  From the house side......

From the street side, where walkers and talkers pass by, it still has patches where the paint has worn off and it looks sad, shabby and neglected, so tomorrow, when it is warm and the sun will be shining, I will pretty up those pickets that are seen by the world in general!

Painting in patches often leaves you with extra paint in the bottom of the can, and I have been using this up on the steps and the garden furniture, and to clean the brushes I have been squeezing out the last bit and decorating the wheelbarrow.

And I spruced up the coffee bench and table with a new coat of blue paint....

I know this sounds quite mundane, - what is exciting about painting the picket fence??  Huckleberry Finn passes through my mind......  Mark Twain certainly did well by writing about painting fences.  However, I must be content with finding a great deal of satisfaction in welcoming spring this way, and look forward to lazy summer days when I can potter around or read, or day dream, without being nagged by raggedy tagged fences and unhappy looking benches and tables

So after a few days of brushes and paint buckets I welcomed an invitation to have Sunday brunch at the Grist Mill with an old friend and her daughter, and a further invitation to accompany them on a drive south through the Chapaka Indian Reserve to the U.S. border.

I was amazed that even ten miles south of us Spring had set up an encampment, planted buttercups along the roadside and tenderly opened the green leaves of spring on poplars and willows and small bushes.

Foliage at the Grist Mill.   Changes as we travel south.....

 Past vineyards  and high peaks beyond the Similkameen mountains that tower, snow covered.

To where the river winds under the Red Bridge to the Reserve

and along the meadows  - not cattle in the distance but bee hives,

 wintering on the Reserve

We reach the small Roman Catholic Church that lies close to the Border

I couldn't get the square bell tower into the picture from the back seat of the car, and would have

got out to take a better picture, but there were people there and I didn't want to intrude.

Here is a small picture with all the car paraphernalia included.......

and here are the buttercups, although I know you will have to search to find them and my

Photoshop skills aren't great enough to make them more visible.  And I really mucked up 

the blues and greens trying!!!!!

It was a lovely afternoon - we came home and had tea and exotic shortbreads from the Bakery.