Patio Laying Quotes

A raging, glowering full moon had come up, was peering down over the side of the sky well above the patio. That was the last thing she saw as she leaned for a moment, inert with fatigue, against the doorway of the room in which her child lay. Then she dragged herself in to topple headlong upon the bed and, already fast asleep, to circle her child with one protective arm, moving as if of its own instinct. Not the meek, the pallid, gentle moon of home. This was the savage moon that had shone down on Montezuma and Cuauhtemoc, and came back looking for them now. The primitive moon that had once looked down on terraced heathen cities and human sacrifices. The moon of Anahuac. ("The Moon Of Montezuma")

I knew that I was losing him, and yet we all had the courage to draw closer, to weave tighter, even all the way into the end. Fred worked in the study, under the glow of yellow light, like an angel-we could see him in there, through the glass doors-while the rest of us sat or lay on the patio under the sky and the stars. Sometimes Grandfather would reach down, searching for my hand, find it, and squeeze it. The last bloodline of my mother, I would think, holding his hand-my last, strongest blood-connection to her-and perhaps he was thinking the same, at those times. Father and Omar intent upon the game. Grandfather and I intent upon eternity.

It wasn’t even about the wonky kitchen cabinet doors or the number of times over the years she’d asked him to paint the kitchen or fix the broken step on the stairs. It wasn’t about mowing the lawn every Saturday morning or the fact that they’d never gotten round to laying the patio, even though the bricks had been lined up at the side of the house for over a decade.

Through the kitchen window, I could see the backyard. The boost bike lay opened on the back patio. Sean was elbow deep in it, while the Ku, whose name was Wing, of all things, pranced around him. Beast cavorted around them, gathering sticks and spitting them at Sean’s feet.

The wilderness is not necessarily a desolate place. It has its own unique beauty, and that beauty is enough. It does not need us. It does not ask for our participation. This may be one reason why wilderness wandering is such a harsh experience, but this is certainly one reason why time in the wilderness is a gift. Our cultivation and our care are not required. God himself plants trees in that place; God himself draws water from dry rocks. The gift of the wilderness is that this is the place we go simply to receive. This is the place we go to listen. In the wilderness, we are given the opportunity to lay down the burden of our desire to make and remake so that when some other place invites our participation and our creative efforts, we are ready to offer those things with humility. The trees—even in the wilderness—are singing a song, but if we plunge ahead in accompaniment without first stopping to listen, and without letting ourselves be changed by the song, we may find ourselves leaving not beauty but crooked patios and poison ivy and heartbroken tears in our wake.

She and Dan were on the patio, wrapped in blankets against the cool evening air. Sasha and I were at the dining room table playing Scrabble, and Peter lay on the floor reading comic books.

Two Trees' One morning, Don Miguel got out of bed with one idea rooted in his head: to graft his orange to his lemon tree. It took him the whole day to work them free, lay open their sides and lash them tight. For twelve months, from the shame or from the fright they put forth nothing; but one day there appeared two lights in the dark leaves. Over the years the limbs would get themselves so tangled up each bough looked like it gave a double crop, and not one kid in the village didn't know the magic tree in Don Miguel's patio. The man who bought the house had had no dream so who can say what dark malicious whim led him to take his axe and split the bole along its fused seam, then dig two holes. And no, they did not die from solitude; nor did their branches bear a sterile fruit; nor did their unhealed flanks weep every spring for those four yards that lost them everything, as each strained on its shackled root to face the other's empty, intricate embrace. They were trees, and trees don't weep or ache or shout. And trees are all this poem is about.

How to Clean Hand-Knotted Rugs at Home? Cleaning hand-knotted rugs at home requires care — they’re often made from wool, silk, or other natural fibers that can be damaged by harsh chemicals, excess water, or improper drying. Here’s a safe, step-by-step guide to clean them without harming the fibers or dyes: Regular Maintenance 1. Vacuum Carefully Vacuum both sides weekly or biweekly. Use suction only — avoid a beater bar or rotating brush (it can pull knots and damage fringes). Always vacuum with the pile direction, not against it. 2. Shake and Beat (Optional) For smaller rugs, take them outside, hang them over a sturdy railing, and gently beat the back with a rug beater or broom handle to remove deep dust. Deep Cleaning (Once or Twice a Year) If the rug looks dull or smells musty, here’s how to wash it safely: 1. Check for Colorfastness Dab a small corner with a white cloth dipped in water and mild detergent. If color bleeds, don’t wash it yourself — take it to a professional. 2. Vacuum Thoroughly Remove as much dust and grit as possible before wet cleaning. 3. Prepare a Gentle Cleaning Solution Mix cool water with a few drops of mild liquid detergent (like Woolite, or a small amount of white vinegar + mild soap). Never use bleach, ammonia, or strong cleaners. 4. Lightly Wash Place the rug on a clean, flat surface (like a tarp or patio). Using a soft sponge or cloth, gently work the solution into the fibers with the pile direction. Avoid soaking — rugs should be damp, not dripping wet. 5. Rinse Rinse thoroughly with cool water until no soap remains. A gentle shower or a low-pressure hose works well. 6. Remove Excess Water Use a wet/dry vacuum, or gently squeeze out water with clean towels. Never wring or twist the rug. 7. Dry Flat Lay flat on a clean surface in a shaded, well-ventilated area (avoid direct sunlight to prevent fading). Flip after a few hours to ensure both sides dry evenly. Make sure it’s completely dry before placing it back — dampness can cause mildew. Extra Tips Spot clean spills immediately with a dry towel and mild soap solution. Blot, don’t rub. Protect fringes: wash gently by hand; don’t vacuum over them. Rotate the rug every few months to even out wear and sunlight exposure. For antique or silk rugs, always seek professional cleaning — they’re too delicate for home washing.