WORK IN PROGRESS

Today I'm working on this:


More pruning, some clearing, a thorough washdown of the bench, clearing and planting of the pot with some red,white and blue petunias, and later in the season, when we have some of the tea parties we have planned, I'd like to festoon all the small cut limbs with ribbons holding a cascade of pretty teacups.

And see the little bistro set hidden in the background?

It started out set just slightly inside the ivy, but over several years, the encroaching spread had made it impossible to go sit with a cup of tea without bruising the beautiful green with your feet. So the little set (rusted and hazy when I bought it at a yard sale) has become weather-worn and grubby. It was a pretty little vignette as you drove into the drive, and now Caro has suggested that we bring it out right onto the pavement a bit, for easier use, and added a pedestal with a graceful pot for more of the petunias.

She's also going to put a pretty little lantern-shaped white "chandelier" on one of the shorn tree-limbs right above the table.

It's so uplifting to see everyone's gardens, the progress and the blooms and the care and work and tending which show in every bed, every shrub, every plot and place and vignette and area and room and space which has been made into something beautiful.

I love those glimpses into the handiwork of others, their way with plants and rocks and water and statuary and small arrangements of pretties which brighten the landscapes.

And I wish I had the touch for that---and the inclination, I suppose. I have absolutely NONE of the generations of genes which have coaxed fruit and vegetables and glorious bloom from the deep richness of Mississippi soil. Anything I touch (or neglect) turns to one of two extremes: Arid and dead, or jungle. There's no middle ground. I pot, they perish. I leave things alone, and you get swallowed up in the green.

I DO love the rich luxuriant growth of the grapevine across the garages; the spread of the shining ivy from eight little slips a few years ago has reached lawn proportions, creeping tendrils out and out, until the carpet gleams way out into what used to be grass.

The kudzu-tendencies of all the vines on the fence, the honeysuckle trees which shade more and more of the lawn each Spring, needing ruthless pruning to keep them under control, and the constant force which through the green fuse drives the flower---those are rampant and raging their way up onto the patio and into the potting shed.

I DO love the shaggy overgrowth, to see the lush swell of the buds and the leaves, to watch a rusted fenceline entwine with green velvet, then disappear into the shady cloak. I'd probably leave everything to kudzu itself into a landscape of blobby shapes-of-trees and house and cars, had I not the wise and guiding hand of Caro to keep things in check.

Angel seems happy to be sitting amongst all the overfill; all she needs is a little cleaning, a little fresh water for the chipmunks in the cup of her skirt, and all will be well.

PS This morning also included weeding the hosta bed, and using Sweetpea's tee-ninecy little yellow yard broom to get up all the maple spinners. At last.

GARDEN'S PLANTED!!

Written Monday, but we had yet another watery mishap---between water filter and ice machine, which Chris was still tinkering with til midnight, so I didn’t get any pictures sized or ready til now.


Monday Morning: Out early with coffee this morning, just enjoying the early breezes and the wind chimes and all the chorus of birds ranged in every tree round the yard. The view from my chair:



And:

We sat on the patio for a while, just getting adjusted to the day, and then strolled out for a moment to the garden, still damp from yesterday’s sprinkle-in of all the tee-ninecy seeds we’d planted.

The second tilling yesterday of the big round plot left it like cake crumbs, just perfect for all the almost-microscopic seeds. Even the Giant Sunflower packet had what looked like the little kernels I keep in the fridge, not the big old crackly gray teardrops folks peel with their teeth and then Ptuhhh! out onto the lawn.

You kinda expect a ghostly figure to appear from the arbor---all that’s missing is Mr. Darcy, strolling out of the mist in his long flappy coat.

Wintered-over, as they say, was a lovely clump of sage---it’s added lovely flavors to dressing and stuffings and butters for the past three years, and just this year decided to bloom.

The lavenders are veterans of three Indiana Winters, and That Yellow Thing is another of the immortal flowers---Sweetpea picked a clump for her Mama three weeks ago, and I stuck it in a plastic cup on the patio table. I just threw it out yesterday, and some of the blooms were still fresh.

And then the oregano-marjoram clump, which is bigger every year. I don’t know which is which any more, just that one’s taller---just a quick brush with your palm sends the fragrance of a Mediterranean hillside out into the heat of the day.

There’s Caro’s tall-grown lovage (lovidge, as Mammaw used to say, though she usually called it celery-plant). Lovely dropped into the soup pot or chicken and dumplings. There are two small tarragon plants in the back, bravely green even after the Winter, and the low nests of thyme and lemon thyme fared well, also.

We planted giant sunflowers, three-foot sunflowers, dahlias, cosmos, a great swath of wildflowers for butterflies, crescents of larkspur and double hollyhocks and zinnias, some fluffy bushes of baby’s breath, black-eyed Susans, and a wide smile of trailing soapwort around the front edge, in front of the lavender and sage.

Some garlic chives, given to Caro by a friend---they survived two days and nights in a bag, and started perking right up when the water showered down.

Don't you just LOVE this time of day? The night-still is clinging on, save for the birds, and everything is SOFT, somehow, like encased in velvet. Looking out toward the arbor:

We also added six good-sized hostas to the bed out beside the arbor; that makes eighteen back there---they just need a good drink now and again, and the hose has to be a hundred feet long, but they’re just so lush and beautiful, with just that little bit of tending. They need a good raking right now---we never did get all the maple spinners gathered up. I’m ashamed to show this picture, but it’s how things ARE.

We had a lovely morning, with a walk around the neighborhood, watering the roses, a nice try-out of the new little blue plastic “pool” and then a good dry-off and dry clothes. I climbed a little ladder and green-taped some of the exuberant grapevine up onto itself. Long tendrils were escaping every-which-way, caressing the face of every passerby through the yard or walking on the sidewalk, and we expect it to be making untoward advances to the tomato plants about August.

BabyGirl and I took an Elevenses break with tiny Cherry Vanilla cones on the patio, just because it’s NOT RAININ', Y’all.

Chris came home for a late lunch with us, Little One had a nap, and then her Mommy and Daddy came over after work for supper. Chris picked up Chinese and we ate on the new big plastic table on the patio about seven.

More little ice cream cones all around, another quick garden stroll and sprinkle, and everyone’s now safely home.

All through the rain, I’ve been wishing for a day like this.

BRAMBLEBERRY SYMPHONY

I just happened upon a blog through another that I read every day---the new one is called Brambleberry Cottage. The second post really caught my eye, with pictures of flowers so beautiful, and text so charming and well written, that I thought I'd share it here today, on this going-to-feel-like-Summer day when our gardens are setting their feet into the ready soil, and the hedges and trees and all the overgrowth and undergrowth are flourishing into a constant green.

And so, while I ready a raft of pictures I took yesterday out and around the garden and lawn, do go immerse yourself in this lovely floral symphony. It's music to the mind and eyes.

http://thebrambleberrycottage.blogspot.com/2010/05/spring-sonata.html

I'm headed out, First Cup in hand, to enjoy the sunrise.

A VISIT FROM FLAT STANLEY

We had a special visitor one night last week---he’d been to see us before, last Summer when we took his picture in front of our Fairy Door, and out in the garden with the big bell.

His name is Flat Stanley, the friend of a little girl whose Uncle Dave is also a friend of ours. He is from a big family of Flat Stanleys, whose exploits and travels have been documented by second-graders all over the country. They have posed with Presidents, Princes, Senators, Race Car Drivers, Schoolteachers, Astronauts (one relative even went on a recent shuttle mission), Sports Figures, Television and Movie stars, and in all sorts of national places of interest.

Stanleys begin life as a plain piece of paper, with just a little outline idea of who he will become. The children draw his features, his hair, his clothes, and color in all the details, so, just like all people, no two Flat Stanleys have the same DNA.

The paper pictures are then sent to relatives and friends, to take with them on trips, vacations, adventures, sightseeing, and to any place of interest. Stanleys have had their pictures made scuba diving, ballooning, skydiving, riding cable cars and trains and goats and horses. They have had some wonderful adventures, these guys, and we were glad to hear some of the thrilling tales related by our visitor.

He and his friend Dave came to our house unexpectedly that evening; we’d gone out to a lovely long lunch, and had decided that our annual peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches would be just right for a quiet supper. So PB&J it was---I set out some grapes and some crackers and a little salmon/cheese ball from the fridge, along with some just-cut sticks of cheddar and cucumber, and we had our dinner.

We do not live such an exciting life as Stanley does, but he seemed to enjoy our quiet dinner, as he told us of a recent visit to Detroit, and another to Cincinnati. We had very little to offer in the way of adventure, so we just let Dave make his picture as he participated in our little home activities.

He stood at the old milking stool and milked the cow:

He helped prepare dinner at the Dragonstove:

He helped SockMonkey do the dishes:

He then had a violin lesson on our little Magic Violin. It’s a wonderful instrument---you just think of a song you love, and that’s the one it plays. It even plays Silence---wonderfully calming and sweet, if that’s what you prefer.

Chris told Stanley some of his adventures when he was in the Navy, and he let Stanley stand by the piece of the Rock of Gibraltar that he picked up when he was there. It even looks very much LIKE The Rock, doesn’t it? See the blue sky----See the Sea!! Here’s Stanley, pretending to be the Colossus of Rhodes:

And then, after all that excitement, Stanley was ready for a quiet cup of tea with Tigger, who makes REALLY good tea, with Hunny that he borrows from Pooh.

We really enjoyed our two guests’ visit, and hope the Second-Graders enjoy seeing Stanley’s small adventures at our house.

WATERING THE WET

I just got to thinking about how wet it has been, how I just cannot stand the muggy-scent of all the drying carpet and the covering scents of all those anti-microbialfungicidalgermkillingdeodorizing sprays we’ve sprayed over and over as things get back to normal.

It’s still cloudy out, but with no forecast of any of it pouncing upon us in the next few days, and hopes are high to plant the garden tomorrow and Monday. We’ll probably have to re-till, for a Liliput-forest of maples has covered the entire plot, testament to the will of the wisps which whirled down to cover the bare dirt.

And the post this week about planting the tomatoes---I re-read that just now, thinking that the token gesture with that tiny watering can was so sweet, totally un-needed except by the little wielder of the water. The dirt was sogged past bearing in the pots, the yard spongy and grass-wet to the step, and still the small nod to the usual method.

The plants certainly didn’t need more moisture, but SHE needed to do her part in the planting and in the nurture. It’s just what you DO. You give things/people/projects/ideas the import they deserve. They all need a good start and good care and good management as they make their way, as they grow and flourish.

And the plants did not get nearly the benefit from the watering that our BabyGirl got from the doing; she took that little green can back and forth from hose to pot four times---once for each pot, getting a cup or so of water into the fresh dirt each time. And she beamed. She was accomplishing a great thing.

Perhaps it’s her Mammaw genes, or those from my Daddy, or the great long line of farmers in her Daddy’s heritage, but she wanted to water those tomatoes, and we helped her. Her purpose was good; her heart was in it, her mission was true---truer than her aim, which sent a scatter over her little pink clogs, dampening socks and pajama-cuffs.

We all came into the house triumphant, fulfilled with the completion of a worthy task, and had our breakfast.

And she was happiest of all. She’d stood in the meager sunlight, fulfilling her duty, giving what she had---a cup of water and a good start.

And that’s a whole sermon in a little green pot.