Slow-growing roots

We're about to kick off three months of intermittent visitors -- one set, if not two, every few weeks until September -- so a heavier-than-average round of house reorganization is in progress chez Troubadour to make it easier for guests to navigate our de facto B&B, where everyone's on a different waking and eating schedule. The combination dining table and mail sorting station? Strictly for meals now. I have my eye on some hanging baskets that will become the new magazine/catalog/grocery-circular file. Catch-all kitchen cabinets? They're getting cleaned out and repurposed for specific uses. My favorite is the coffee cabinet that holds various types of beans and everybody's preferred sweeteners -- no more hunting for the raw sugar (my mom's choice) in one place vs. the white sugar (D's mom's choice) vs. the Equal (my choice) in another.

It's finding just the right home for the little things. Even though we've been in this house for three years, it only feels like we're really settling into it now that we've had some time to make it our own in these small ways (or bigger ones). I guess we're slower than average.

Speaking of which, I think our irises that we bought four years ago -- the bulbs we started in planters on our apartment balcony when we had no permanent place for them -- have finally decided that they like their new residence in our front flower bed. All four of them, which you might remember we named, have bloomed this spring. It's the first time we've had every plant blossom.

Say hello to ...

Ralph

Tessa (whom you've met before)

Carmen

and Lolita.

In his count last week, D found a total of 80 buds from all of the plants combined. He'd estimated we'd see no more than half that! I'll take it as a sign that settling in slowly is just fine.