Gonzo

 Crespedia globosa, more commonly known as Billy Buttons, are those long, straight-stemmed flowers that, when dried, add a fun pop of color to arrangements. Long after a bouquet has been tossed, they are still good because they retain their shape and color well. I came across one lone stem the other day while packing up for our move out of the house we've been living in since March of 1977. I had plans for that flower when I  stashed it in the back of the laundry room cabinet, where I found it. All these years later,  the yellow colored ball was lovely and still had value, but I had to throw it out. 

I've had to throw out many things in the last few weeks: perfectly good clothes, kitchen stuff, art, all the many things that would not possibly fit into the 1200 square foot townhouse in DC where we are moving. Of course, we made countless donations to the local Thrift Store, but some things -  old pillows, stuffed animals, building materials, paint cans, lawn furniture that never made it to fixing - got pitched onto a growing trash pile. Before we'd begun the project, I firmly vetoed Jim's idea that we would need a dumpster for our discards. Given the amount of trash we've generated, I've conceded that he had a point. 

Because I watched her Netflix series on decluttering a few years ago, I can claim to have at least figuratively brushed shoulders with Maria Kondo. Theoretically, the idea that less is more

appeals to me, and I've made stabs at it, but I have not had an opportunity to try it out. And, although I haven't yet read the book, it seems I'm in the throes of some version of the Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning. They'd not have sold as many copies if they'd more accurately described the letting-go process as brutal. 

Take this, for instance. One Christmas, before my brother Larry was married (he was young, still in his twenties), he gifted me with what, I am sure, was the largest bottle of Jean Nate After Bath Splash ever made. As the years passed, I realized there was more Splash in the bottle than was humanely possible to use, so I decanted a portion of it into a pretty vintage bottle that remained on display in my guest bathroom for years. In the meantime, he got married, had three kids, and now has eight grandkids. We all got busy and no longer gift each other, so whenever I look at this bottle, I think of my adorable brother and those carefree, simpler days.

How could I ever bring myself to part with this?

And what about the Doc Martin boots that belonged to my daughter, Lauren? She was 14 when she wore them to the R.E.M. concert we took her to with her best friend, Meghan, who also danced the night away in her Docs. The thought of parting with them made my heart ache, especially now that Lauren's oldest, Anna, is 14. 

Who in their right mind could even consider discarding a pair of Doc Martens?

And corks, what about all these nice corks?

Gonzo to these nice corks?

From paper clips to couches, moving forces all sorts of decisions on what to pitch and what to keep. In the final phases, the magnitude of flotsam and jetsam that has to be dealt with can make it a grueling experience. Happily for us, it's almost over. Next spring, when we are enjoying the lightness that people report after all of the letting go, I will put in a little garden that will include at least a row of yellow Crespidia. 

 Billy Buttons!