Mocking the Mockingbird

I love to hear the Mockingbird
That sits up in my tree
I wonder why he sings so much,
Or if he sings to me...

~Rita P. Hestand


A couple of years ago on a summer evening, Romie and I took our usual walk down the road to the cemetery and the bridge over Blue Creek that we affectionately call Poohsticks Bridge. While we were strolling through the lanes of the cemetery, we were stopped in our tracks by the loud and beautiful song of a bird. A Cardinal, perhaps? No, it sounded like a Goldfinch. Wait ... maybe a Warbler ... and then we realized it was all of them. It was a Mockingbird.

We located it and we sat and listened to a regular concert of arias from just about every bird we'd ever heard. It was mesmerizing. Such a plain looking bird with all those melodious tones coming out of it!

We never heard the Mockingbird again during our evening walks. In fact, we didn't hear any Mockingbird again until last week, when we went to Beining Nursery to get our flagstone. As we were waiting to take care of our purchases, we heard it and saw it in the top of a maple tree by the main building. It was so much better than any music we'd heard while on hold on the telephone and we didn't mind waiting our turn. The owner told us that many people had asked if they could please deliver the Mockingbird along with their trees or bushes.

We also purchased mulch while we were there and they delivered it last Wednesday. As we were eating lunch outside yesterday, we heard a familiar loud series of bird songs coming from a nearby tree. Did Beining's deliver their Mockingbird, too, by mistake?

We got up to see where it was, and once we located it, I ran into the house for the camera. It was too far away for me to see any detail on its body and to identify it positively as a Mockingbird, but it definitely sounded like one. When I zoomed in on it with the camera, took its picture, and downloaded it to the computer later, it didn't look like the Mockingbird we'd seen last week. After doing some research online and with my Birds of Ohio Field Guide, we determined that it was a Brown Thrasher.

I didn't know there were other birds that mimicked like the Mockingbird, but the Brown Thrasher (Toxostoma rufum) is well known as an accomplished singer. Having a repertoire of over 1,100 songs, it sings more songs than any other bird in North America. It's also a staunch defender of its nesting area, capable of striking a person or a dog or cat hard enough to draw blood, so we'll just listen from a distance.

The University of Michigan website says, "The best time to observe these birds is in April, before nest sites are established. During this time males sing on high branches to attract mates."

I wonder if he was successful...

*Small pictures of Mockingbird and Brown Thrasher from Wikipedia. The large picture of the Brown Thrasher in the tree was taken by me on 4-29-07.

What is So Rare as a Day in April?

This spring, having a gorgeously sunny warm day in April like the one we had today is cause for rejoicing and celebration. So we did. We invited my mom and dad, grandma, Kara and Adam, and Jenna out to the house for a cookout. We had barbecued chicken breasts, hamburgers, potato salad, California Blend vegetables, seedless red grapes (which tasted strangely like mulberries), and Apple Crisp with ice cream for dessert.

While the weather was something to celebrate, it was Kara's birthday for which we actually had this little party. Our firstborn will be 27 years old on Tuesday.

This is an amazing thing, the growing older of one's children. By the time I was Kara's age, I had a four-year-old and a two-year-old, and while I can remember both of the girls at those ages like it was yesterday, it also seems like another lifetime ago when I think in terms of myself.

I'd like to think that I'm the same person I was back then, but of course, I'm not. It's impossible to go through raising two children from birth through college then releasing them to make their own way in the world and not be changed. Just as our children change and grow, so do we and this is what keeps life interesting.


After we had our lunch, we took off for a walk in the woods to see what wildflowers were in bloom now. We went back to Oklahoma, the little woods down the road, and just like two weeks ago the woodland floor was covered with all kinds of wildflowers. Still some Dutchman's Breeches here and there, Spring Beauty and Trilliums everywhere, and a few Trout lilies scattered at the base of several trees. But there was something new!

Wild ginger (Asarum canadense) was quite abundant and just coming into bloom. I'd seen the foliage many times before, in many places, but never its unique bloom. I don't think I even knew it flowered before I saw a photo of it last year. Close-up, it looks like someone split open its fuzzy round bubble and peeled it back just enough to reveal the kaleidoscopic image inside.

Cunningham's Ditch, which runs behind our house, has many colonies of wild ginger growing all along its wooded banks. Before I became so interested in gardening, I'd taken this for granted and gave it no more than a passing glance and noted that it was there. All these years, I'd missed the unique flower hiding under its heart-shaped leaves.

Among her gifts, Kara got a Japanese Maple (Acer palmatum 'Bloodgood') from Adam, and some Fiskars pruners and a gift card to Lowe's from Jenna. We all remarked how different her birthday presents were now, compared to just a few short years ago. There's that change and growth again...





Speaking of growth, Kara's Buckeye (Aesculus glabra) tree that my mom and dad gave us when Kara was born, has more than tripled in size since it was planted 27 years ago. At five feet ten inches tall, so has Kara.

It was a great spring day !

There's an Ostrich in the Garden!

With the warmer temperatures, things are really popping out all over the garden! This Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris), which reminded me of a lady dressed all in frills and begging for a bouquet of False Forget-Me-Nots (Brunnera macrophylla 'Jack Frost'), was strutting her stuff. It's prom season here, and Miss Fern Fiddlehead is ready for her date:


Her friends are here to see her off and chatter among themselves about how beautiful she looks ...

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Lamenting the Lack of Lilacs

I love the smell of lilacs. I enjoy being outside and catching the scent of our next-door neighbor's bush as it drifts over to where I am. I'm thankful they let me cut all the blooms I want so that I can bring that luscious fragrance into my house. One bouquet can perfume the entire downstairs for days.

For all the love I feel for lilacs, you'd think we would have a few bushes of our own. Actually, we do, but none of the old-fashioned lilacs that make me giddy when I smell them.

The first one we ever had was a dwarf Meyer lilac (Syringa meyeri 'Palibin'). It bloomed nicely the first year we planted it, but never again in the several years after. I learned that we had it in an area that didn't get enough sun, so we moved it and it rewarded us with blooms the next year!

Last spring, it was blooming nicely and then my grandma bought us a gorgeous Japanese Maple (Acer palmatum 'Emperor II'). The best place for the Japanese Maple was - you guessed it - right where we'd put the lilac. Against my better judgment, but not really having much of a choice, we once again moved the lilac. It seemed to survive the move, even though it was just starting to bloom at the time, but shortly after it finished flowering, it finished living, too.

About 15 years ago, my friend Jane gave me a white lilac for my birthday. Knowing it would get quite large eventually, we planted it in the bare spot where a peony once grew. The peony had disappeared many years before, so the lilac filled the spot nicely.

About ten years after we had planted the lilac, we noticed some white blooms, except that it had finished blooming a couple of weeks earlier. Upon closer inspection, the lilac was blooming peonies! You can imagine our shock and disbelief when we saw that the peony had come back after so many years of absence. I mean, think about it ... we had to dig pretty deep when we planted the lilac bush and we never encountered a single trace of that peony.

We have since enjoyed the succession of lilac and then peony blooms from what looks to be a 'leony' or 'peolac.' The lilac does appear to be in a state of decline while the peony continues to stage its comeback bigger and better each year. It will be interesting to see if one will eventually take over or whether they will continue to co-exist in the same spot.

This spring, with the unfortunate late and lengthy freeze we experienced, many of the flowering trees and shrubs were denied their normal leaf emergence and flowering period. Some, like our Cleveland pear, had beautiful flower buds only to have them blasted by the cold weather, resulting in very few of them progressing to full flower. The neighbor's lilac bush didn't fare well either. The entire lower two-thirds of the bush is devoid of any leaves and the new growth appearing on the upper third looks deformed. Sadly, there will be no lilac bouquets from it this year.

Lilacs are a hardy bunch and while we may not be able to enjoy their intoxicating scent this spring, they'll be back. I'll just pout a bit and settle for burning my Yankee Candle 'Lilac Blossoms.'

I Still Don't Like It

Awhile back, I mentioned how I was disappointed in the 'Replete' daffodil I'd gotten a couple of years ago. I didn't like it last year, and I don't like it this year. It is supposed to be pink in the center and it's pale peachy orange. It would never occur to me to call it pink. Check out the picture, description, and most importantly the disclaimer here.

It's a double that might be called ruffly, but I call it messy. It's like it's having a bad hair day every day of its life. The picture posted here is mine and it's an extremely flattering one. It certainly doesn't look like the pictures you'll find on sellers' websites. (That subject is a rant best saved for another day.)

It has other afflictions, too:

• It's floppy and most times can't stand up under its own weight
  
• It doesn't bloom very prolifically
• The blooms don't last very long
• It's just generally ugly
  

How this thing managed to be named 1995 "Daffodil of the Year" is beyond me, when there are so many more attractive ones out there. It's like it's the Sphinx cat of the daffodil world. I'm sure there are those out there that love Sphinxes and Repletes, but I'm not one of them. Oregon hybridizer Murray Evans, who introduced it in 1975, is no doubt proud of his baby, but I'm glad it's not his only claim to fame.

I have threatened to dig it up and move it to my Orphan Garden, but I think I'll just let it stay where it is. Some of its downfalls make it not worth the effort of moving it. Besides, it's planted in with other ones that I do like. By the time they bloom, Replete isn't around to spoil their good looks. Whenever I decide to divide that bunch of bulbs, I'll try and isolate the Repletes then.

But in keeping with my optimistic outlook on life, I have found one thing I do like about it. Its back side is actually very pretty. We should all be so lucky to have a pretty rear, eh?

Intermezzo

It's pretty obvious to the readers of this blog that gardening is my thing. But it's not my only thing. We have eight cats that we share our lives with and there is also considerable space taken up in our house by volumes of books because I love to read. When we have a nice day and we're caught up in the garden, we'll take off with the GPS and do some geocaching. And while it's not very time-consuming, I work as a dental hygienist one afternoon a week.

Oh ... and I blog.

I've been asked many times why I do that. One said to me, "If you're going to go to all the bother of writing a blog, why don't you write a book?" Yeah, why don't I? Well, first of all, I'm not good for a plot. I know not all books have plots, but those that do stand a better chance of selling. I write essays. (Isn't that what I write?) I write essays interspersed with journal entries that are among the drivel that means nothing to much of anyone except my family.

I have always said that I hate writing. Editing is what I love to do. You write it, I'll fix it up. But then I wrote a few things* because I was asked to, and several people said to me, "You should be a writer." I think they meant that I should write and get paid for it. Wouldn't that be nice!

Then my daughter e-mailed me one day late in December and said, "How about a blog?" Hmmmmmm...

When I first heard the term blog several years ago, I thought to myself, what a silly-sounding word. I learned that it was a contraction or abbreviation of web log. Move the 'b' and toss the 'we'. I looked at a few of them and wasn't particularly impressed or motivated to have one of my own. Most of the blogs I read back then were there simply because someone gave away web space and others felt like they had to fill it up. I filed the word in the back of my mind, so that I would know what people were talking about when they mentioned them.

Fast forward to January of this year and the e-mail from Kara.

I originally started writing this to keep a record of what was going on in my garden throughout the year and as a way of keeping our girls informed of what happens around here on a daily basis, now that neither of them lives at home. Since I don't work that much anymore, nor am I taking care of the two of them, I want them to know that I still have a life, and that I'm not sitting around in my bathrobe watching soap operas and eating bonbons.

But anyway, once I got started writing and posting to this thing, it was like a new addiction. I couldn't stop. I always have had a lot to say and nothing much stops me from saying it. I generally think out loud, unlike my husband, who is a man of few words and who thinks about every single one of them before he speaks.

While I have since discovered many, many excellent blog authors out there that I enjoy reading, I still don't aspire to be a great blog writer myself. I too am filling up web space simply because I can, and it fulfills something within me that I can't entirely explain.

So this is my version of a blog, for my girls and whomever else deems it worthy of taking a few minutes to read what a middle-aged gardener, kitty-lover, reader, geocacher, dental hygienist, and most importantly, wife and mother, has to say about stuff.









*Today's Cacher : January 2005, "Divine Appointments" ; March 2005, "The Best Cache I Didn't Find" ; May 2005, "A Spooky Little Bug" ; June 2005, "Fancy Meeting You Here" .

2007 Cincinnati Flower Show

Mom and I boarded the Executive Coach bus at Van Wert at 7:00 this morning and we headed for the Cincinnati Flower Show. A few hours later, we walked through the entrance (free to us, due to our AHS membership). Though rain was predicted at a 90% chance of it for the day, we never felt a drop. How we managed to be granted that reprieve, I'll never know, but good for us!

Every year, the Cincinnati Horticultural Society stages their week-long show on the shores of Lake Como, location of historical Coney Island (where Kings Island Amusement Park had its origin) and adjacent to the Ohio River. Though the show has been internationally acclaimed in the past, and having attended the show last year, I felt that this year something was lacking, especially with the vendors. It seemed to me that there was a large number of vendors selling everyday fashion clothing and jewelry and fewer offering tools, potting materials, and garden decor than I remember. Even the Plant Market was smaller. Still, there was plenty to enjoy.

There were lavish displays of outdoor garden settings in the Grand Marquis, which I particularly enjoyed. I took away many ideas that I could incorporate into my own gardens on a smaller scale. I am constantly amazed at the creativity and artistry that some people possess, and I'm thankful they share their talents with the rest of us that weren't so blessed in that particular area.

There were a couple of learning seminars during the time we were there, and some of the group we were with took advantage of them. One, "Gardening Smarter, Not Harder," was probably one I should have taken in. It was presented by several speakers, which included experts from the Arthritis Foundation and a chiropractic clinic. Yep, should have attended...

There was an amateur flower show being judged in the large tent, and I enjoyed seeing the specimens of everything from woodland wildflowers to exotic orchids. The artistic floral arrangements were over the top and I wonder where these would find a home other than at a flower show, but I appreciate seeing how an artsy brain works.

We enjoyed lunch on the grounds, at The Garden Cafe. My "Red Hat Lunch" came in a substantial plastic container with a lid, and while I was eating my meal, the thought popped into my head that the container would be great for either winter sowing or for starting seeds indoors. Three of the people I was sitting with donated theirs to my cause, so I now have four new seed-starting containers.



Like last year, there were several planted window boxes, and since I have two on our front porch as well as two on the front of the pool house, I was particularly interested in these. I have absolutely no imagination when it comes to putting any kind of container combinations together. I snapped a couple of photos for later reference.




In one building, there were extravagant and dramatic table settings and John F. and I discussed who would use these in their homes. Certainly not us, but it's interesting to see the possibilities if you let your inhibitions run wild on the dining room table. That, and having unlimited funds and domestic assistants might allow you to play house like this. These were 3-D works of art with no square inch of space left out of the resulting masterpieces. I'm lucky to just get food on the plates!

Finally, there were wonderful artists in attendance with their works available for purchase. Watercolors seemed to be the most popular media and if I had wanted to choose one to take home with me, I don't think I could have done it. There were just too many that I saw and liked.

In the Grand Marquis, there was an artist painting one of the beautiful displays. I stood and watched her for a bit, and I'm always in awe of how anyone transforms a three-dimensional scene into a faithful rendition on canvas or paper.

Toward the end of our tour, Mom and I discovered the works of Charley and Edie Harper. Described as "minimal realism disciplined and pure," it would appeal to those in the 'less is more' camp. My taste in art runs in the contemporary and modern direction, so I loved it. We both purchased some note cards. The Harpers' works remind me a bit of Nazran Govinder, by whom I have a giclee print (of a cat) - a Christmas present from Romie.

The other art work that we both enjoyed were the mounted and framed butterflies from Peru. Now these were wonderful preservations of true artwork direct from the hand of God. Mom purchased a beautiful large piece featuring a dozen or so butterflies arranged artistically in a clear glass frame enabling you to see both sides of the butterflies. Some of these, when you looked at one side of them and then the other, you'd swear were totally different butterflies, so diverse were their markings and colors.

By 3:00, we were headed for home, with purchases stowed in the bottom of the bus. I took home a Fothergilla (F. gardenii x F. major 'Mt. Airy') to replace the one that the rabbits chewed all the way to the ground, a green Japanese Maple (Acer palmatum 'Mikawa yatsubusa'), and a new coneflower (Echinacea 'Summer Sky'). We stopped to eat just north of Dayton, and our group went to Cracker Barrel. There, I found a lime green jacket with white daisies appliqued on it that was so 'me'. I've always loved white daisies.

Next gardening/flower show expedition: The Cleveland Botanical Garden Flower Show in late May.


More photos from the show:

Spring Training

As I finally sit down at 11:00, feeling every single day of my 49+ years, I am struck by a genius thought that has come too late. Like baseball, gardening is a sport. It's a game we play with nature, spring through fall. There is winter - the off season - and then we begin with spring training. Well, baseball does anyway.

We should.

Oh sure, we sometimes do a spring training of a sort, by starting seeds inside, caring for our house plants, and going to garden shows. It's our way of gearing up for the active growing season in our gardens.

But what about the muscles? WHAT ABOUT THE MUSCLES?!? Yes, they're screaming at me right now. They are in the midst of a full body revolt against what I did to them these past four days. I tried to pace myself, I really did, but you know how the saying goes - "Make hay while the sun shines." And boy, did we.

We cultivated, we planted, we moved things, we weeded, we trimmed dead foliage, we watered, we hauled flagstone ... you get the picture. And we were not properly conditioned for all this physical work. What were we thinking? Baseball players wouldn't dream of going out on the field on opening day without weeks of spring training. They know it would likely result in a pulled muscle or two, and we should know better than to go all out after a winter of living like slugs, without getting ourselves in better shape.

So I know better and you know better, and maybe you DID better than I did. But I hate, hate, hate exercise and now I'm paying the price. I don't know why I hate exercise so much, when I love nothing better than to be outside crawling around on my knees, digging in the dirt, and exerting myself with much more effort than a simple 30-minute Pilates would take. But the fact is, every spring I do it the same way and every spring I get the same result: Overly sore muscles while dragging my tired butt up the stairs to bed each night.

I sleep really well though.


*Photo from www.ultimatebaseballgm.com

Pinch Me!

Excuse me, while I get a little excited. Tonight, while checking up on plants, flowers, trees, bushes, seedlings, and peat pots with seeds sown in them ... wait ... back it up.

Seedlings.

OhmygoodnessIthinkitisaHimalayanBluePoppy.

Look very closely. Do you see what I see? That little (and I do mean little) thread of green poking through the soil and about to shed its seed coat? Please tell me you can see it, too.

:-)

Blooming in Stereo

Last year, I discovered Abutilons. They're commonly called Flowering Maple, but they aren't maples. The leaves sort of look like maple leaves though. I bought a couple of them from Logee's and they did well for awhile, then one didn't.

I found some from the 'Bella' series at Stuckey's in Ft. Wayne, too, and those are doing better. In fact, those are blooming right now, both at the same time.



They're about 18 inches tall, and getting kind of spindly. I've read that they respond well to cutting them back hard, but I've not found them to be particularly easy to grow, so I kind of hate to mess with them. But since you can propagate them from soft wood cuttings, I'll try to do that with what I cut off. I saved some seeds from last year, but didn't have any luck with getting those to germinate.

I still have 'Ruffles' that I got from Logee's, and it was blooming a few weeks ago. It's pretty leggy, too, so I'll probably give it a trim when I do the other ones.

I'm hoping that all of them will beef up this summer, when I'll move them outside. I really love these. They remind me a bit of Japanese maples, because of their graceful form.

I'm on the lookout for one of the variegated-leaf ones and if I find it, I'll be adding it to my Abutilon repertoire.

Earth Day

Brunnera

Then God said, "Let the earth sprout vegetation: plants yielding seed, and fruit trees on the earth bearing fruit after their kind with seed in them"; and it was so.

- Genesis 1:11 NASB

Iris

Tulipa

Primula

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Diabetes, Osteoporosis & Crassula ovata

What do they have in common? The first two could be likely bedfellows, but the Crassula? Easy. It's me. Sounds kind of ominous and perhaps just downright alarming, but let me explain.

First of all, those of us in the midwest that have been lamenting the delayed arrival of spring are today rejoicing, because it's 75 and sunny and it's not a fluke. We've been given a Caribbean cruise of a forecast for the entire weekend and you just know that come Monday morning, gardeners and even practicing couch potatoes will be sporting fresh sunburns and the faint odor of Eau de Bengay. I'll bet the nursery coffers will be much fuller and our pockets a little lighter, too.

But of course, it's Friday, and there are the people who are forced to work for a living or attend continuing education seminars and we have to be content to just look out the windows at it for now. In my case, I didn't even have a window to look out of, but it's probably just as well.

Being a dental hygienist licensed to practice in the states of Indiana and Ohio, each licensing period I am required to complete 14 hours of continuing education. And every year, the Isaac Knapp District Dental Society has an all-day meeting in Fort Wayne, which our office staff attends. It's in the spring, and seems to always fall on the first beautiful day of the year. If it didn't cost money to attend and if we didn't get seven CEUs, which goes a long way toward fulfilling that continuing education requirement, you can imagine what the dropout rate might be.

Today's agenda was "A Healthy Smile ... A Healthy You!" and was delivered by two different speakers. In the morning, we learned about osteoporosis and in the afternoon, diabetes. Sandwiched in between the two was a wonderful lunch and time enough to step outside and soak up the warmth of the spring sunshine. As we were standing outside the Grand Wayne Center, out of the corner of my eye I noticed the Foellinger-Freimann Botanical Conservatory across the street at the other end of the block. I turned to my co-worker Renee, and asked her if she wanted to walk down there with me and take a look in their gift shop.


We were there in short order and though we didn't have much time, it was long enough for me to spy a couple of nice jade bonsais in ceramic pots for not much money. Five minutes and fifteen dollars later, we were on our way back to the seminar, me carrying a brown grocery sack with my newly acquired treasure in tow.

Now there are many interesting things to be learned about both osteoporosis and diabetes and how and why we in the dental profession should be concerned with them, but by the 3:00 break, my brain was in the process of shutting down where they were concerned. So, as yet another co-worker and I were once again sitting outside within view of the conservatory, we found ourselves gravitating towards it.

This time, we went into the conservatory itself and did a quick walk-through. There was a special butterfly area that is currently set up until July 8th and while the temporary display was less than impressive, beautiful flying insects are always a joy to behold. We quickly cruised the rest of the conservatory, stopping to inhale the sweet scent of the brugmansia tree, which was in full peachy-colored bloom, then returned to our seminar (just a tad bit late).

So now I've got my continuing education requirements out of the way, I know a little bit more about osteoporosis and diabetes, I've got a lovely new bonsai, and an entire weekend of faux summer ahead of me.

:-)

Tying Up Loose Ends

I guess it's time I confess that the 1949 Morning Glory seeds that I was entrusted with failed to germinate for me. With seeds that old, it was a bit like playing Russian Roulette with them, but I had high hopes that I would get at least one seedling. Kay Jones appears to be the only one of the many people that were sent seeds that had any success. Woo hoo, Kay!! Boo hoo, me.

On the other hand, I started some seeds tonight that were a tad bit fresher. I had some 'Irresistible Chocolate' Morning Glory (Ipomoea nil) seeds left over from last year, so I put them in water to soak yesterday and sowed them in some Jiffy pellets tonight. Most of them had swollen to more than twice their size, so I should get sprouts sooner. I did this last year, too, but didn't soak them as long and it seemed like it took them forever to come up.

I also sowed some Japanese Morning Glory 'Double Blue Picotee'. That one was so pretty last year, and I'm pretty sure I saved some seed from it, but I forgot to label it and I have several bags of morning glory seeds in my seed box. I'll direct sow a few of those in a few weeks and if I am able to collect seed from them later this year, I'll be better about labeling!


Grandma is doing better in dealing with the loss of Elvis. She misses him terribly, and while she says she won't get another cat, in the next breath she told me about seeing "Elvis' twin sister, or maybe even his mother" outside her window. She said she would invite her in, but she appears to be pregnant. Now wouldn't that be something ... a litter of kittens born in her garage.

Actually, last summer a mama kitty did give birth in the corner of her courtyard garden. They were the cutest little things (most kittens are) and I would have taken the little brown tiger one home except when I saw them they were just three weeks old. Shortly after that, the window washers came and put their ladder near the kitties. Mama wasn't happy about that, and she moved her babies. We didn't see them for several weeks and by then they were too skittish to catch.

Anyway, the memorial stone we got for Elvis' grave is finished and was shipped today. I'm guessing it won't be here until early next week, since it's coming from Idaho. There's a card traveling around the country (Florida > Texas > Arizona > Ohio) being signed by family members that will be given to Grandma along with the memorial stone.

A couple of weeks ago, we walked down to Oklahoma to see about the wildflowers. There were some, but mostly just the promise of those to come. Last night, we returned, and saw the trout lilies in bloom here and there. Lots of mottled leaves, as I said before, but not that many blooms. The ones I dug from here last spring and planted in my shady garden are in bloom right now, which is why I wanted to check how things were going in the woods.




The trillium is blooming now, but even those are not at their peak yet. Spring Beauty is still quite abundant and here and there you can see some wilted Dutchman's Breeches. Those are done for the year. I didn't see any violets blooming yet and I know there are a lot of them here, so more patience is needed. It's nice that the wildflower show is spread out like this, as we'd hate to have it explode all at once and be done, although what a sight that would be!

As we walked out of the woods, I looked down and saw what I recognized as a nice big clump of Rue Anemone (Thalictrum thalictroides). I'd been wanting some of that! I took note of the location (on the edge of the creek bank) and we returned tonight to bring it home to join the other woodland treasures in our shade garden.

Now I can just hear some of you shouting at me, "I can't believe you are digging up those wildflowers like that!" I can assure you that it's highly unlikely that another soul has ever set eyes on that Rue Anemone. This is in a quite remote area and to be honest, in the thirty years we've lived here, I've never once seen anyone back there where we found it. And we aren't destroying it, just relocating it to another spot not far from its origin.

Neither are we raping the woodland floor - there is plenty of everything there and a few plants will not be conspicuously absent. We love walking in those woods and don't want to destroy the beauty that is unique to that area.

One of the wonders of Mother Nature is her ability to reproduce and I have no doubt she will continue to make more of each of these. I would imagine that these very species once resided on our property anyway, until someone cleared most of the trees that were once there in order to build the house where we live. So we're just replacing what got taken away over thirty years ago. How's that for justification?


The Butterfly Breeding has come to an end. My hopes for a male and female and new eggs were dashed early on, because the first butterfly to emerge only lived about a week. Maybe long enough, but the second butterfly never did seem very healthy the entire time it lived, which was about 2½ weeks. I never did see either one of them fly.

But my mom still has one living! With a life span of two weeks, hers has outlived its life expectancy by two weeks so far. Home for it is her bathroom, where it has been flying around since its emergence. She just keeps the door shut and it can generally be found in the window, but it returns to the orange slice she has out for it to eat. She reports that it is pretty lethargic by now, but it's hanging in there.


Abby continues to adjust to life here and while she is still pretty skittish most of the time, she can also be a little love muffin. One night I awoke around 1:00 a.m. and noticed that there was this little warm body under the covers, plastered to my rib cage. It was dark, of course, but one touch of her velvety soft fur told me it was Abby. She slept the entire night under there.


She still hasn't taken up Simon's offer to play tag or wrestle. At just 7½ pounds versus Simon's 16 pounds, maybe Abby is playing it smart, although she's got enough spunk and quickness, I have no doubt she could hold her own against him.


I need to add another pest to the list of those I've battled. Last week, I noticed one of the brugmansias in the basement had funny-looking leaves. They were curling under, so I picked up the pot and looked under them. Great. Aphids. Now just where did those come from? I'd not had any the entire winter, in fact hadn't had them anywhere, not even outside.

So far, it seems that they are only bothering two of the many brugs I have down there. I took both of them upstairs in the shower and washed them off, then applied GardenSafe Fungicide 3-in-1, which is also a miticide and insecticide. This seems to be working. It's what I used on the white flies and that took care of those, too. I got it at Walmart and it wasn't expensive.


I've got sprouts in some of my winter sown milk jugs. Right now, it's looking like I'll have about a 50% success rate with them, which I'd say is pretty good for the kind of winter and spring we've had. The one that looks the best is ... you won't believe it ... the Shirley poppies! I said I'd not been able to grow poppies period, from seed or by transplanting, and now I've got oodles of seedlings. No one is more happy about being made out to be a liar than I am!

Kara has seedlings in all six of the jugs she planted back in January. She's tickled and I'm excited for her. She was so sure this wasn't going to work. I'm not the kind of person to say "I told you so," so I won't say it.


And finally, the hellebores that spent several weeks under a couple of feet of snow this winter, have emerged none the worse for wear, although they did have some pretty ugly foliage that needed pruning away. They are recovering, with new spears of growth shooting up through the soil and even a bloom or two.

I have visions of having nice, mature, flower-laden hellebores like those of my blogger friend in The Netherlands, Yolanda Elisabet, someday. But for now, I'll enjoy the blooms one at a time.


*Photo of aphid from www.ars.usda.gov

Cheap Tulips

Last Thursday, we made our weekly visit to Walmart - this time for soil for potting up the bareroot roses that came on Wednesday from Jackson & Perkins (more on those later). It will be a little bit until I can plant them in the ground, because the area where I want to put them is part of a larger project that we'll begin once the weather decides to make up its mind. (More on that later, too.)

Those people at Walmart are so smart. They put the soil near the plants and flowers. I know they did this on purpose; it's part of The Conspiracy. And this day, they had trays of blooming tulips marked down by fifty per cent. You could buy one bulb for 36 cents or three for 83 cents. There were purples, oranges, pinks, whites, and yellows. The oranges and yellows caught my eye right away, because both of them looked like neither of them could make up their minds if they wanted to be orange or yellow.

I know that for the most part, if planted deeply enough and fertilized, tulips will return spring after spring for several years, but it's not something you should count on. This is one instance where I live on the lucky side of the street, because I've had good luck with my tulips coming up every year, and none of them are Darwins or species tulips. Darwin tulips have a greater reliability for repeat performances each spring, and species tulips can pretty much be counted on to naturalize readily.

Though I had not planned on buying any plants or bulbs this trip, you know how that goes. And these were cheap. I picked out some single yellow ones, and some triple-potted orange ones. There were only four single yellows, so I got those and I plan to intersperse these with the oranges. Just where I am going to do this interspersing I have no idea, but I'll figure that out later. I seem to find myself doing this with almost all the plants I buy. Buy first, plant later... somewhere.

I brought them home, cut the blooms, and put them in water in two different vases. One went to the family room and the other went on the little table at the foot of the stairs in our entry. Spring cheer!

If these never come up in future springs, I have two lovely bouquets that bring a smile to my face every time I look at them. At less than seven dollars total, that's a true bargain.

Sunday Night Popcorn

We spent most of the day yesterday with the family at Kara and Adam's house in Defiance. Grandma treated us to a wonderful Chinese buffet, where we all left feeling more than satisfied, if a bit uncomfortable, from the banquet offered. And I didn't try the sushi either. I just can't.

After we got back home later in the evening, Romie wanted popcorn. After rooting through the cupboard and finding only kettle corn (my favorite, but not his), he decided he'd make regular popcorn the old-fashioned way by popping it in oil in a pan on the stove.

I always say we live in a "microwave society," meaning we want what we want and we want it now. And sometimes even that's too slow. Think about how long it takes to heat up a cup of water in the microwave and tell me you haven't stood there watching it and wondering why it's taking so long. We're so spoiled by our conveniences, of which the microwave oven is just one, that I'm afraid we're paying for them with patience, and we're running low on that when it comes to just about every aspect of our lives.

But anyway, if Romie wants his 'regular' popcorn, he's going to have to do it the hard way. It's been so long since he's made it like this that he can't remember how. We located a half-full bag of Jolly Time White Pop Corn at the back of the snack drawer (don't wanna know how long it's been there), and we had to read the label to figure out how to do it. Three tablespoons of oil, one-third cup of popcorn in a pan over medium heat with the lid on.

Boy, does this bring back memories...

When I was growing up in the '60s, Sunday night meant no supper, just popcorn. Dad would make it - yes, in the pan, because, well, there was no other way back then and we didn't have a microwave oven anyway until the early '70s. Oh, there was Jiffy Pop, and we did try it a few times because it was cool to watch the foil expand like a balloon when the corn popped, but it wasn't as good as Dad made, and it was kind of expensive. Mom and I would get our own little bowls and we'd all settle in for the night in front of the television. Dad kept the big bowl because, after all, he made the popcorn and he would always share if we wanted more anyway.

The Sunday night line-up on television was pretty much the same, week after week at our house, and it's the night that I can remember most when I think about watching TV as a kid. It went like this:

7:00 Lassie
7:30 Walt Disney's Wonderful World of Color
9:00 Bonanza

I can still see the fire burning through the map of the Ponderosa ranch during the opening theme song, and then Ben, Hoss and Little Joe Cartwright riding up on their horses. Bonanza was the first network television series to film all of its episodes in 'living' color. (Yes, my dear daughters, I can remember watching many shows in black and white. I'm that old.) Once in awhile, we'd watch Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom instead of Lassie.

Dad still eats popcorn every Sunday night in front of the TV and so do we much of the time. As a dental hygienist, I think this must be somewhat of a common practice here in the U.S. because when I worked full-time, I'd find more popcorn hulls on Mondays than any other day of the week. Really!












Anyway, we popped a pan full of Jolly Time and it came out perfect until Romie put too much salt on it. He ate it anyway.

If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em

Okay, I'm going to try a different tactic. Ten days ago, I was whining about the snow and it didn't get me anywhere, because we've had it off and on since then, and yesterday was no different. Except that we got enough that it covered the ground and just about everything else. The news announced last night that this just may be the coldest April on record. Like this is some wonderful achievement or something.

This is pathetic, is what it is.

But I'm pathetic for complaining about it, too. How many times have I told my kids when they were growing up, "Well, you can't do anything about it, so quit whining." So I'm officially declaring a moratorium on grumbling about the cold and snowy weather around here until next November or so. And I'm going to go with the flow of things, which right now is all about snow.

Weeping Japanese Cherry (Prunus 'Snow Fountain')



Coralbells (Heuchera sanguinea 'Snow Angel')

Rock Cress (Arabis alpina 'Snowcap')



Double Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalus)

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Great Big Plants

Yesterday, a brown UPS van pulled into my driveway as I was putting some bareroot roses in water to soak. As usual, I asked him if he brought me anything exciting. He smiled and said, "I don't think it's plants, if that's what you mean." I think I have a reputation.

It was a small white box and I looked at the return address: BIOSCIENTIFIC, INC. Hmmmm ... I do online surveys and am a member of a couple of testing panels and I figured what was inside was a consumer product that I was to test and then would be asked questions about later. When I took it inside and opened it, I was sort of right.

A couple of weeks ago, I'd gotten an e-mail from a company that had read my blog and liked what they saw. They wanted to know if I would blog about their product. I'd never heard of their product. I checked out the reference material for which they'd included the links, and my interest was piqued.

In order for me to blog about something and give it a 'yay' or 'nay,' I have to have actually tried it myself. Oh, I'll mention a product and maybe comment on what I've heard or what others may have experienced with it, but I'm not going to stick my neck out and recommend something that I've never used myself, let alone never heard of. So I e-mailed back and said I'd be happy to blog about it if they'd be willing to send me the product for testing. They were.

So now I have it. It's called Great Big Plants, and it's an organic liquid compost in a concentrated form that you mix with water. It claims to be "a safer, more effective, convenient replacement for traditional compost or manure. Great Big Plants is applied to soil to improve its structure, increase organic matter, and provide key nutrients to produce strong, healthy plants. Unlike compost or manure, Great Big Plants flows to the root zone, immediately nurturing the plants." Makes sense, but will I have Great Big Plants by using it?

I have a quart-sized bottle, which is enough to make eight gallons of enriched liquid compost, but I won't start using it until our growing season begins. Normally, that would be starting right about now, but winter has been dragging its heels on its way out the door. However, we'll soon be in full swing here, and I'll be giving Great Big Plants a try. Then I'll report back here to let you know if you should try it, too.

Will Wonders Never Cease?

On our bricked patio, there is a two-foot by two-foot square that has no bricks. It contains soil, mulch, Sweet Woodruff, 'Pipit' daffodils, and Lady ferns. If you are down on your knees inspecting those lovelies and look up, you'll see a nicely-shaped dogwood tree (Cornus florida). It isn't tall (five feet) and in the 15 years or so that it has been there, only once would you have been able to identify it by anything other than its foliage.

That's right. It has only bloomed once. And even then, it was a half-hearted effort. Three blossoms. THREE. But they were glorious blossoms and there was much rejoicing and the fatted calf was prepared ... wait ... wrong story. But those three blossoms have been talked about for years afterward, every time someone commented on the cute little tree.

Every year, when it would be barren of blooms, we'd say, "Maybe next year." But we learned not to hold our breath, because we'd be disappointed once again, for while its foliage was green and lush and lovely, it just wouldn't bloom.

But this year is going to be different. It took me about three minutes to count the flower buds on the little dogwood yesterday, not three seconds. There are ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY-NINE flower buds! I'm not kidding. And this relentless winter that's been revisiting us lately had better not rob us of this impending major floral event, or I will wring its frigid neck.


Maybe it has been saving up its blooms for a time when it knew they would be appreciated. If you recall, it's only been two short years since I took up gardening for real. And last year, it probably held back, to see if I was serious about my newest obsession.

Or maybe it was all those other things that I laid at its feet. The Sweet Woodruff (Galium odoratum), Lady ferns (Athyrium filix-femina) and daffodils (Narcissus 'Pipit') have all performed to perfection since I planted them two autumns ago. The Cute Little Dogwood couldn't let a few bulbs and perennials show it up, could it?

It could be that this is the definitive example of a late bloomer.

The Calm Before the Storm

And I'm not talking about the weather. Not directly anyway. This morning it all of a sudden occurred to me that in a very short while, I will be overwhelmed. We are on the cusp of an honest-to-goodness change in the weather. Not that teasing type we've had in past weeks where we're delirious with joy at the temps in the 70s, only to be driven back inside to curl up on the sofa, wrapped in a blankie, snuggling a kitty or two to keep warm. While the actual weather we're experiencing might belie the fact that it's spring, the calendar doesn't fib. We're halfway through April and it can only get better.

Soon.

And now I'm starting to have a bit of an anxiety attack. To be sure, I'm itching to get into the gardens and finishing cleaning them up, as well as moving a few things around and direct sowing my seeds. But it also means The Big Green Machine will be set in motion and there will be no stopping it until first frost this fall. I'll soon be deluged with so many things to do that I won't know what to do first. Or I won't have the energy I need to do them all. And there will still be those inside things that need doing.

But this is what I have waited for all winter long, right? Bored with looking at the cold, gray, naked landscape, I longed for the days that I could grow pretty flowers outside and not have to force them inside. Yes. Well. I need to sit myself down and give me a good talking-to.

Part of what contributes to this inner turmoil is the fact that I am The Queen of Procrastination. I usually get whatever needs doing done, but not a moment too soon and sometimes a few moments too late. "I work well under pressure" is just a phrase we procrastinators use to dress up our dirty habit. The truth of the matter is we don't work well under pressure most times, but we're more comfortable with putting things off than doing good planning and following through.

I make a New Year's resolution every January to do better and reform myself. And then I make it again in March, and again in July, and by September I just resign myself to living with it. I procrastinate changing my procrastinating, and in this case, two negatives do not make a positive.

The other thing I get concerned about is whether I will have good days with my fibromyalgia when outdoor conditions are conducive to getting a lot done out there. If the planets align themselves in my favor, no problem. I can pace myself and get it all done. If not, I overdo when I have the chance and feel up to it, but pay for it in the days that follow.

Just writing this here has relieved my anxiety a bit, because I have come to the realization that part of this I can do nothing about. And the other part ... well ... there's that other part and nobody's perfect, right?

So bring on spring!

I'm Dreaming of Blue Poppies

The Himalayan Blue Poppy (Meconopsis betonicifolia) seeds that I bought at the Ft. Wayne Home & Garden Show are now resting on top of potting soil in peat pots on top of my dryer. I sprinkled them on late last week. The reason they're on top of the dryer is because the utility room (a.k.a. The Plant Room) has a bright south window and when the dryer runs, it provides bottom heat. I know, a heat mat would be better, but this will have to do. I doubt that the Himalayan mountains are bottom-heated either.

When I first saw blue poppies for the first time last year in Wayside Gardens' catalog, I immediately wanted them. I love blue flowers. (I like green ones, too. And purple ones. And red ones. And yellow. Oh, and white.) And then I noticed they are only hardy to zone 6. And they're expensive. So I nixed ordering them and decided they were one of the many things that I wished I could have, but can't.

Then I saw the seed packets at the show. Now, you may remember that I mentioned I have never been able to successfully grow poppies, either by transplanting or by seed. Last year, I planted two different ones by seed and never got a single sprout. The seed was fresh and from a reputable company, too. Guaranteed to grow. Except not in my garden. But here were the Himalayan Blue ones, and though they are supposed to be somewhat 'challenging' to grow (well, duh, they're poppies), I knew I'd regret not giving it my best effort. If I failed, I'd only lose $3.99 and a little bit of horticultural dignity.

They're supposed to take 20-25 days to germinate, so probably the earliest I'll see signs of potential success is April 25th, which is the day that Mom and I are going to the Cincinnati Flower Show. Maybe I'll have good news to share with her when we board the bus that morning.

Of course, germination doesn't mean I'll ever see a flower. Last year, I started several things early inside and while nearly every seed germinated, most of them succumbed to either damping off or I burned them after I put them out in the cold frame and forgot to vent it one particularly sunny day.

The gazanias were tough though, and survived everything I threw at them. I had saved my seed from the summer before and I proudly pointed this out whenever anyone toured my garden. "See these gazanias? I grew them from seed I saved from last year's blooms." And I'd puff my chest out a little bit when I said it. If you want guaranteed success starting seeds early inside, plant gazanias.

If I do manage to get the Himalayan blue poppies to sprout and then eventually bloom, you can bet I'll be posting it here in my blog and there will be a gazillion pictures and all kinds of bragging going on. However, do not ASK me how the poppies are doing if I haven't mentioned them. That would mean that I don't want to talk about it. After all, you haven't heard another word about those other seeds, have you?

A Cat Named Elvis

There is much sadness in our hearts today, but most especially in that of my Grandma's. Yesterday, while visiting with my mom, her beloved cat Elvis had a seizure and died suddenly, right before them. One minute he was grooming himself and the next, he was gone.

Most of us have lost a pet at some time in our lives, so we know the sadness she feels in her heart right now, to a point. But Elvis was special. Really. He was. You see, Grandma had never before had a pet all of her own and if she had, she likely would not have chosen a cat.

But Elvis chose her.

About two years ago, a sleek black cat began showing himself outside the windows of her garden room. He had the loudest meow you've ever heard. Jungle-like even. He was not going to be ignored. Grandma started putting food out for him every day, and he obliged her by eating it. She'd done this before for other cats, too. But none of them would let her even get close when she'd open the door.

Elvis was different. He was wary, but he wasn't afraid. She'd let him in her garage, especially when it was cold outside. It was clear that he would be more than happy to make her home his. But she wasn't so sure.

She had kept our Baby for a few weeks, back when she was a kitten. Baby was waiting for her trip to the vet to be spayed and her sibling Boo, a male, was doing what male cats do. We wanted no kittens and Baby was too young and too small for such things anyway, so Grandma agreed to keep her until her appointment. We kind of hoped she'd fall in love with Baby and want to keep her, because being the cat lovers we were, we thought Baby might be good company for her. But she thought it was too much work and mess for a 92-year-old woman living alone, and Baby was a hypercat, flitting here and there and she worried she might trip over her. So Baby came back home with us after her vet's appointment.

Then we got a phone call a few months later, and Grandma asked me if I would make an appointment for 'this black cat that's been hanging around' because he was sneezing a lot and needed some medication. "And while you're at it, would you make an appointment for him to be neutered and declawed?"

What???

In two weeks' time, the black cat had a nice, warm home and a name. He actually was named by her little neighbor boy, Eli. He was visiting her and she was telling him about the cat and that he needed a name, and Eli simply said, "Elvis." And so it was.

Elvis was the perfect choice of a name, because he had the softest black fur you've ever felt. I called him her "Black Velvet Elvis." And he could belt it out, too. We kind of joked that Elvis meowed so loudly because Grandma was a bit hard of hearing and he wanted to be sure she knew he was speaking. But within a week, the meows became much quieter and we never again heard his 'outside voice.'

Grandma lives somewhat formally and she only allowed Elvis to get up on two chairs and one bed. Fine with him; no problem. Litter box in the closet. Again, no problem. Elvis was the kindest, gentlest, calmest, most well-behaved cat you've ever seen. Perfect for Grandma.

Several years ago, I gave Grandma a book entitled, "When GOD Winks." It was a collection of stories in which small 'coincidences' changed a life. When Elvis came into Grandma's life, she said God winked at her.

The story of Grandma and Elvis is a love story of the purest kind. To anyone who saw them together, it was clear that the love between them was quite mutual. They were totally devoted to each other. Elvis truly was a blessing from God.

But yesterday, God took Elvis back. I don't know if I've ever questioned something more in my life. In the case of people that are taken away, it seems easier to explain most times, at least to me. They've either lived their life to its natural completion or an accident occurred as a result of human error or a bad choice. But Elvis...none of this could be explained. He was estimated by the vet to be a little less than a year old when Grandma first took him in, so he was a young cat. And his death occurred not because he got hit by a car or that he made a bad choice, or even that his humans made a bad choice. When Mom called Dr. Wilkin last night to tell him about Elvis and maybe get some answers, he said it was likely cardiomyopathy or heart worms. He was an inside cat, but he'd only lived inside for a relatively short time, and well, mosquitoes (the carriers of heart worm) do get in.

So why did Elvis die?

At 92, Grandma worried about what would happen to Elvis when she left this world. But we assured her that Elvis would be well taken care of. You know how we are about cats at our house, so Elvis would have a home with us, if necessary. That is, if we could finagle him away from my mom, which was doubtful. Even my dad, who in spite of liking cats has always said no to having one in the house, agreed that Elvis could come and live with them, if that time ever came. Who ever thought that Elvis would go first?

This morning, I talked to Grandma and she's requested that we come and take all of Elvis's things such as the extra boxes of litter she has, a bag of food, and the flea medication that she just bought last Thursday. She wants all reminders of him removed. Except for his red collar. She's kept that.

Dad buried Elvis outside the window of the room where she first saw him. We have already made arrangements for a small stone marker to be made to put on his grave. And while Grandma has a broken heart right now, and we ache for her, she feels that God sent Elvis to her to teach her to be a kinder, gentler person because there was never a more kind, gentle cat than he was. Elvis lived with her for a year and a half and though that was way too short of a time, it was long enough for him to give her profound joy and win a permanent place in her heart.

Good kitty, Elvis.

When your heart is silent of the sound it longs to hear,
And the warmth of the fire seems hollow,
Remember the one who sought your comfort
In their younger, better days.
They would not have you grieve Nature's course.
If their place seems empty now
And their presence beyond your reach,
Find solace in the gift they have left in passing:
In truth, no creature can ever be said
To have passed entirely from the Earth,
For when Memory lives, Spirit endures.

~ Petrina Vecchio

He Is Risen!

My very first Angel's Trumpet (Brugmansia sp.) bloom rejoices this Easter morning that Christ has risen!

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The Passion of Christ in Flora

Two springs ago, when I was just getting into gardening for real, my mom asked me if I wanted to go to the Cleveland Flower Show with her. I jumped at the chance and while I was there, I was captivated by a very unusual flower I'd never seen before. It was for sale, and without even checking the details on it, such as growing zone, I bought it.

I brought my Passion Flower (Passiflora caerulea 'Clear Sky') home, and replanted it into a hanging iron globe I'd gotten from Jackson & Perkins. I hung it outside under the pergola and it bore lovely, other-worldly blooms all summer. Then fall came and since it's only marginally hardy to zone 7, it had to come in. I'd not had any experience overwintering plants that had previously enjoyed the outdoors, so I wasn't sure how it would do. In fact, I had quite a reputation for killing houseplants up to that point.

It did well, and graced us with blooms off and on all winter. The blooms only last about a day, so when it was flowering, I took a look often throughout the day, admiring the unusual characteristics it displayed. One day, I took a series of four pictures, each about 20 minutes apart, depicting the bloom sequence:



























































There's a legend associated with the passion flower that in 1620, a Jesuit priest in Peru came across this flower and was impressed with its beauty. That evening, he had a dream in which the parts of the flower were likened to symbols of the crucifixion. The petals and sepals represented the disciples; the pistils were the nails; the purple corona was the crown of thorns, and the stemmed ovary was the chalice. The Dogwood tree (Cornus sp.) is another plant that has been associated with the crucifixion.


Last year - even with pruning - my passiflora, which is a vine, outgrew its container. In fact, I think each pruning elicited a growth spurt. I replanted it into a long rectangular container with an iron trellis. It has now fully covered the trellis and has been one of my favorite houseplants, due to its unique blooms and my success with it. I have tried to grow 'Lady Margaret' and have killed three of them, so I'm not going to waste any more money on that one, even though I love its rich magenta color.

I do want to try to grow the species known as 'Maypop,' as it is supposed to be hardy to zone 5. You know how we gardeners are - if we don't succeed with this one, we try that one.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

I think the white balance is a little off...

My Bracelet Isn't Yellow

My MFA bracelet came yesterday. It's a bracelet made for the Meningitis Foundation of America and a small portion ($5) of the sales of these bracelets goes towards the foundation.


They aren't the typical rubber bracelets that you see for fundraising, like the yellow one that Lance Armstrong made so popular for cancer research, although you can get a red, white and blue one like that, too. This beaded one is made of Swarovski crystals with sterling silver findings, toggle clasp, and MFA letter cubes. It's much nicer than I expected when I ordered it online.

You might think $35 is a bit much to spend on such a bracelet, and maybe it is, but the way I look at it, I earned the right to have it. I had meningococcal meningitis and lived.

McPherson & Company sells bracelets with similar designs for other fundraisers, such as the American Diabetes Association, American Cancer Society, American Heart Association, and several others. With the sale of each bracelet, they will donate $5 to that organization. Yes, it's a small amount, and I wish more of the cost of the bracelet went to the sponsor, but every little bit helps. Besides, this one is actually an attractive fashion item. With a cause.

Got Potatoes?

It's tradition around here to plant potatoes on Good Friday. My uncle has done this for years and I keep meaning to ask him what he does when winter decides to hijack spring. It's 27° and snowy. Not exactly planting weather. And why Good Friday anyway?

It seems that the tradition of planting on Good Friday came from the Catholics. They would have their seed potatoes blessed with holy water at Good Friday services. Apparently, it's just one of those practices that has been carried through time, though of course, there's nothing magical about Good Friday. It's just a good time to start potatoes, weather permitting. And I'd be hard pressed to find anyone doing anything in their garden around here today.

We planted potatoes for the very first time last year. We put them in an area that was bordered by herbs and lilies because it was kind of an impulsive move on our part and we hadn't planned a spot for them.



We bought 'Red Pontiac' seed potatoes that had already been chitted from Walmart. The potato plant is rather attractive, but only until mid-summer, when it turns yellow and dies. Under the ground are the potatoes, growing in clusters, waiting to be dug whenever we're ready. They don't need to be dug up right away, but should be out of the ground within a few weeks after the plant has died. If you don't, the potatoes in the ground will start growing again. I found this out, because I missed some of the little itty bitties and started seeing green potato plants coming up here and there. There wasn't enough time in the growing season to let these grow to completion and produce potatoes, so I pulled them up. I love those itty bitties, because I make potato soup with them and just throw them in the pot whole.

Other early growers are peas and spinach. Especially spinach. It's a very fast grower and we were eating fresh spinach salad just a few weeks after planting. Peas are too much work for me for no more than you get, so I don't grow those anymore. Lettuce is another cool weather crop and we planted both leaf and head lettuce last year. The head lettuce was scrumptious and much better than any I've ever bought in a store. The mesclun mix leaf lettuce was good, too, but didn't store very well.

Onions like cool weather, too, and we grew sweet yellow granex, which is like the famous Vidalia onion. By law, they can't be called Vidalias unless they're grown in a specific 20-county area of Georgia, but of course they are grown elsewhere and go by their alias. Those who grow 'true' Vidalia onions say that they don't taste the same grown elsewhere though. I'd have to say that is probably true, because our Vidalia Wannabes weren't much sweeter than plain old yellow onions we've grown before. They were good, just not exceptionally sweet like we'd expected.

Since we weren't able to get our potatoes in the ground today, I consulted our copy of The Old Farmer's Almanac to see what it had to say about planting in our area. We've never paid attention to what it said before, in fact have never even consulted it. But we bought a copy this year just for fun. It says anytime in the month of May will do. The earliest planting time listed for us here in zone 5 is for parsnips, which is April 7th to the 30th. Does anyone actually grow parsnips? Does anyone eat them??

The only vegetable I've planted this early is my 'Sungold' cherry tomatoes, which have put on true leaves now. I've transplanted them to larger peat pots and they have already enjoyed a little outside time earlier this week when it was summer instead of the winter we're having now. I've got 'Chilly' chili peppers growing, too, but they're ornamental only.

This is the hardest time of year to conjure up patience, even with such frigid temperatures (16° for the low tonight!). I've got seed packets lying in wait and seedlings anxious to dig their toes into the earth. Just a little while longer...

April Is the Cruelest Month

...and here is why...



Just two short days ago, my 1 GB memory card could barely keep up with all the images of the beautiful spring flowers I was putting on it.

This ugliness we awoke to this morning was predicted, so I was like a mad woman going around the yard, snapping pics of anything and everything that I thought would be devastated by the 19° and snow that was to come.

I got down on my hands and knees and buried my nose in the hyacinths that were just beginning to open. I went over the gardens with a fine-toothed comb and took notice of the curly fern fronds just beginning to poke through and all the shades of new green that even a Crayola box of 64 couldn't match. The Cleveland Pear trees (Pyrus calleryana 'Cleveland Select') were sporting tiny bouquets of buds that looked much like roses.

The tulips, daffodils, and hyacinth flower buds might be able to shake off the few days of cold we're predicted to have, but those in full-open flower are done for. Many spring flowers and even some foliage are ephemeral, so you'd better appreciate them while they're here. When you go from 82° one day to 28° the next, it's just a mean, cruel trick. Another case of life's not fair.

But God teaches us something in all things, and this reminds me of how our human lives are, too. How many times have we heard about a vibrant young person being taken in the prime of their life? And those we love that have lived a full life, we sometimes take for granted that they will always be here.

The snow will come, whether it's late in the spring or right on time in winter, and we'd better remember it and make the most of our time with not only the beautiful creations in our gardens but the people we journey through life with.

Stopping By Woods on a Balmy Evening

"Whose woods these are,
I think I know.
His house is in the village though..."
- Robert Frost




The Virginia Bluebells (Mertensia virginica) we transplanted last spring have returned. Two springs ago, we noticed a huge drift of them on a riverbank while geocaching and last spring, we went back to that place and chose a few for relocating to the shady part of our yard. We picked them randomly, so as to not disturb the esthetics of the original location. They were in a very remote place, and it's a shame that so few people will ever see them.

The soil where we found the bluebells was, as you can imagine, black and loose and incredibly organically rich. I would have gladly left every single bluebell there if I could have just trucked all that soil directly to my garden. But alas, I'll have to make do with my amended clay stuff. I wondered how the bluebells would do in it, but there they are.

Since the bluebells and trillium are emerging in my yard, I figured the wildflowers in the Oklahoma Woods were as well. Oklahoma is what we call the woods that's located about half a mile south of our house and in the spring, the floor is just covered with native wildflowers.









In the 29 springs we have spent in this house, we only discovered the wildflowers two years ago. We just never walked through there at the right time of the year to see them! Geocaching has gotten us out into the woods and it was during some of these treks that we began to take notice of the beautiful native plants we have. And of course, my interest in flowers in general didn't begin until about that time.




Tonight was a beautiful spring evening and Romie and I went to Oklahoma to see what was in bloom.







It's a little bit early, so the only things really blooming were the Dutchman's Breeches (Dicentra cucullaria) and the Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica). We could see the Trillium (Trillium sessile) teasing us with its magenta buds, but nothing fully open yet.






The woodland floor was literally covered with spotted Trout lily (Erythronium americanum) foliage. I dug a few of these last spring for one of my flower beds and they are emerging in that bed now, too. Their name comes from the brown-mottled foliage, which vaguely resembles the speckled skin of brook trout. Though we saw lots of Trout lilies, very few will bloom. Only the plants with two leaves will eventually have the characteristic yellow bloom. Most have single leaves and are too young yet for flowering. Trout lilies are also called Dog-tooth violets, because of the shape of their corms.

Scattered here and there were some wild geraniums (Geranium maculatum) and wood violets (Viola sororia). It's early for those yet, so we'll return time and again to look for their blooms. We'll also keep our eyes open for other Ohio native wildflowers that may show themselves. The environment in this woods is ripe for all kinds, since it has marshy ground as well as higher and drier spots and sunny as well as shady.

What a Difference a Week Makes!

We returned home from our Florida trip so late last night that it was dark and I couldn't see the flower beds and gardens. It was pretty quiet but there was a riot of activity going on out there. When I got up this morning and looked out the window, it was as if someone had photoshopped my view and had gone heavy on the green.

When we left a week ago, the grass was still brown with the slightest bit of green peeking through. There were a few bulbs shooting spears of foliage up through the soggy brown mud. And just one lonely crocus and a couple of snowdrops blooming.

This look out the window had both Romie and me donning our jackets and shoes (my new Puddletons!) and heading out to do a walk-through to see what was popping. And there was SO much going on out there that we were like two little kids looking for Easter eggs. "Here's one!" "Over here!" It was just too much fun, finding that all the bulbs I'd spent hours planting last fall had not only made it through the winter, but were strutting their stuff for us.



Spring is busting out all over, as they say, and so are my spirits. You just can't help but smile when you see the jewelled colors of the Iris reticulata, the Tete-a-Tete daffodils and the giant crocus. And some of the perennials are well on their way preparing for Act Two of the Spring Parade of Colors.








The lungworts (Pulmonaria sp.) have flower buds, as does Crimson Fans (Mukdenia rossi).













This was the first winter for my rock cress (Arabis caucasica 'Snowcap') and I am being blessed with pristine white blooms already.





And ... what's this? A hellebore bloom! That little trouper, which was covered by two feet of snow for so long in February, is laughing in the face of its brown leaves. One bloom open and two more coming, with tender green shoots poking out at its base. Not so tender, I think.



The Heucheras all have new growth, as do the Tiarellas, Coreopsis, Flax, Japanese Painted Ferns, 'Jack Frost' Brunnera, Jacob's Ladder, Japanese Anemone, Bleeding Heart, Columbine, Blue-Eyed Grass, 'Limelight' Artemisia, Hardy Geranium, Iris, Tiger Lilies... really too many to name them all.











Several of my mini hostas are showing nubbins of growth and the Lily-of-the Valley (white and pink both) are poking through everywhere, too. Usually, the pink ones are later in appearing than the traditional white, but they're in a dead heat this spring.

If I had known my flowers were waiting on me to go to Florida before they started blooming, I would have gone weeks ago.