Add plants, subtract trash

Mrs. Roberts, who runs the company doing our plumbing, called in her always-polite voice this morning to tell me she'd requested a city inspection tomorrow, carefully laying out for me the permits and documents I'd need to have on hand.

That was about the time Jon and his crew drove up in two big trucks with some other fixtures: one of three loads of plants from the growers near Homestead to make our house a home.

He'd spent a day up there last week tagging various greenery for us, and it was exciting to see the first raw materials for our gardens: ferns, aralias, buttonwoods, ixoras, plumbagos, palms and a huge bird of paradise or two. Now he and his guys spent several hours arraying it all along our rear deck and jammed behind the gate outside the den door, so it wouldn't wander off before it's in the ground.

Zachary, who works up the street at Duval House, was walking by: "Man, I love it," he said. "You're installing a jungle."

Three familiar creatures emerged from the foliage: Matt, the electrician; Paul, the audio guy; and Hank, our tile man. Matt was there to button up in preparation for his inspection, also Thursday; Paul, to bundle wires and cables; and Hank, to acid-wash our bathroom tile and install towel bars. I'd told him he was the only one I really trusted to drill the beautiful stuff he put in.

The dump people finally got there to haul off our third 10-yard container of scrap, cartons, crates, boxes, straps, excess packaging, rocks, sand, debris and other assorted wastes. We're still waiting on the truck to take away the construction toilet, which is past its prime in every possible way.