Had, by the way, a thoroughly enjoyable Sunday with my folks, the centerpiece of which was planting plants in the yard — stuff we’d bought the weekend before at Tagawa (and which needed a few days to acclimate from the hothouse) and stuff we’d picked up from the church flower sale that day.
Yes, my folks drove several hundred miles to do yard work. Go fig.
That wasn’t the actual plan, of course. But they were both sympathetic to Margie and my having had a stressful schedule the week before, plus they have this odd sense that it doesn’t matter what we do when they visit, so long as we do it as a family. The in-laws feel the same way, which makes the Host in me get all confused (“But! But! We could go visit the Mint! Or some wineries! I have an itinerary scheduled out to the half-hour right here! With copies for everyone!”).
So we planted four big roses, a few smaller ones, and numerous ground covers and bits and pieces. Some tomatoes (shudder). The flower boxes got planted with the standard marigolds and snapdragons. Dad and I dug and planted, Mom watered, Margie did the flower boxes, and Katherine buzzed around and helped (netting on the “help” side, rather than the “be in the way” side, which was nice).
Then we ate much steak for dinner, grilled on the new grill.
The one thing we didn’t manage this trip was any golf, alas. I didn’t get anything scheduled while I was in California, and by the time I got to it on Sunday, there wasn’t anything to be had. Our Monday afternoon plans fell through due to various other scheduling conflicts, resolved by simplifying things and Just Going to the Zoo. Which we did.