Found Treasures

One of the great things about gardening at an old house is the untold number of gardeners who've been there before you. Some of their handiwork is very obvious: the monstrous azaleas that flank the front steps, evergreen and tidy (with regular pruning!) that burst into hot pink glorious-ness at the first hint of spring; the deep-blue hydrangea at the corner of the front porch that blooms all summer and marks North East truer than the truest compass; the stately line of pecan trees that marches down the side yard, shading the house in summer, allowing the sun to warm us in the winter, and providing enough nuts for dozens of pies and cookies and brownies in between.


There are also the not-so-obvious things: the clumps of snowbells that randomly sprout and bloom near the front steps and in the side yard - out of zone and out of season and charming with their tiny white-with-green-polka-dots flowers; the amazing not-an-agapanthus that became three huge plants when I dug it up and moved it earlier this year (which is, by the way, something called a crinum lily and which continues to bloom at regular intervals. This picture was taken about an hour ago using the "night" setting on my camera); the confederate jasmine that has exploded in the corner where the hose-holder-with-faucet lives and which I am training to run down the railing of the back steps.

And, then, there is this:


One lone beautiful red lily that sprouted in the middle of the side yard. I've been here three summers now, and never seen that lily before. And if weeks of intermittent afternoon rains combined with these endless weeks in a sling hadn't conspired to keep us from mowing the grass, that lily wouldn't have stood a chance. I dug it up (obviously) and have every intention of replanting it in the back yard...and when I did, I also found these:


a handful of bulbs, each one waiting to be another lily! Some are now planted by the back gate and some have moved around the corner to my mama's house. All of them are a reminder that at least some of what we do in our brief time on this earth lasts, in ways we cannot possibly imagine, for years and years after we are gone.

Continued World-Avoidance

In an effort to retain what's left of my own sanity and ignore the lack of same being displayed all around me, let's continue to tour the tiny but pleasant space I call "home."

Here's another touch recently added to the kitchen....one step closer to being well and truly done. I'm not too fond of those tab-tops in this space, but one of my sisters assures me they are easy to get rid of and that will also help to shorten the curtains and keep them out of the sink when they are closed.



What I really like is how the zinnia patch threw up red and yellow flowers (very similar in tone to the colors in the living and dining room) and then also gave me greens and oranges to draw from. Even when this year's zinnia patch is done, I will still have all the colors of my summer flowers around me. That's a good thing.

Flower Break

I have spent the last couple of days more engaged with the world than I really like to be of late and may I just say WTF?? Of course I can. It's my blog and I can say what I want. And one of the things I want to say is this: People are crazy. I mean seriously bat-shit crazy. And since I don't have a lot of energy for foolishness (particularly of the manufactured kind) and it completely wears me out...I quit. At least for the rest of the day I just refuse to put up with crazy people.

Let's look at my beautiful zinnias instead, shall we? I grew them from seed (a first for me in the flower department) and they have been just lovely out there in the garden for months. They came up in a rainbow of colors - pink and purple and yellow and red and white and orange and cream and even green - that have helped to inspire the ongoing painting projects in the house and they show no sign of letting up. Zinnias may be my new favorite flower.

The Garden Lives On

One bad thing about not posting for so long is that I missed showing you some great photos of the garden during July and August. It's been pretty spectacular. With the exception of the tomatoes (it's been a bad year for tomatoes and my friend Cara, in Boston, has had the only brag-worthy crop I've heard about) everything has been gorgeous and delicious and - as Britt used to say - abundantly abundant. More cucumbers than we could eat, several rounds of eggplant that were yummy, bell peppers and banana peppers that have made Dave very happy, and - Oh! - those peas.

Those peas have been just incredible. We are still picking them (another full basket last night) and they are flowering again. (Do you think they heard me talking about pulling them up to make room for greens?) They are no longer that pretty....the rain has been constant and one has to sort of trample them to get to ones inside...but they are still producing. And, miracles do happen, I LIKE them. Me. Legume-hater me thinks these peas taste great. They are not grainy or sandy or gritty...they are just gooood. Which is just one more piece of proof that food you grow yourself Just Tastes Better.

Here's a shot of some peas in the kitchen...I've lost count of how many bags like this we've had. Yum.

Saturday

Saturday mornings are almost as good as Sunday mornings. There's a little more bustle from the neighbors and a little more traffic...but Mojo and I are still the only ones awake at our house (the joys of 20-year old house guests!) and have time to experience the morning hours in the garden the way we don't when I have to head to work.

For instance, 8 o'clock-ish is a good time to examine the Mexican Petunia. It's a slow waker in the morning...and it goes to bed pretty early. But at 8 AM all its flowers are open and it's quite stunning. My sister tells me that two or three of these made a massive hedge at her former Florida abode. I've no idea how big it will get here (in Clearwater they make hedges out of hibiscus and I am jealous every time I think about that) but even smallish, I think it's striking.

Also, we have a new friend in the garden. I admit it. I have a weakness for funky animals scattered about. Also for chickens and tall skinny birds. Yesterday, my mama gave me this perfectly perfect tall, skinny chicken. His name might be Roger...but maybe not. It's early yet. Watch for him in new places, too, because I also like to rearrange things.

Finish Line

Here we are, on the 31st of May and this is my 31st post of the month. By my unofficial blogathon-record-keeping that makes me an official runner and not a water-girl. Imagine that.

It's been quite a month in some respects and quite ordinary in others. Spring finally came and has started sliding slowly into summer. Work is busier as it is this time every year. Dave is busier too, as the summer travelers descend upon us. The garden has taken a lot of time...but it's good to be outside and occupied and to go to bed most nights genuinely and honestly tired.

I've spent more time really talking to people this month and am grateful beyond measure for the good, true friends in my life. Even though most of you are far away, you remain as close as my keyboard and my cellphone and I am lucky to have you in my life. And, I've spent more time - some every day! - writing, which is probably the best gift I could have given to myself. Special thanks to are due to my friend Sue for the nudge that finally worked and to dearest, darling Lisa (Happy Birthday, honey!) for being my Tag-along Blogathon Buddy.

I intend to keep this up. Maybe not every day, but most days...just because I like being here and I like knowing that you're all out there. I'm learning new things every day - about the world and about you and about myself. And those are all good things, yes?

To close out the month, here are some pictures of how the garden looks today:

Garden from the front

Garden from the side (note how the cucumber has escaped!)

Garden - Right Side (I really love that frog.)

Garden from the middle


Garden - Left Side

And also, a picture of Mojo, who loves being outside almost as much as I do. He's a good dog.

New Things

This has been a month for trying new things. In addition to the vegetable garden (which is revisiting an old but good thing), I am growing herbs. I am excited about roasting chickens seasoned with my own rosemary and thyme. I am looking forward to bolognese made with the oregano I am growing (and that smells just like Nana, really). Also, I made pesto.

I grew the basil and then I harvested the basil and then I turned it into pesto. All by myself. With email help from Lisa, of course, but she's in the Bronx..not here...and I think that qualifies as mostly by myself. I was smart enough to email her before I started, and I thought of that myself. Or, as Britt used to say, bymyownself.

This is the bowl of basil leaves, after the harvest:
And this is the finished product...yum!


This is the basil plant (sharing its pot with the parsley), after the harvest. Also, after I moved it out of reach of the encroaching cucumber plant.

Riding the Wave

Not long ago, I was completely undone when I spotted a ladybug in my garden. My girl loved ladybugs and used to bring them to me whenever she found one so I could make a wish on it before she let it go. I never knew where she got the idea for making wishes on ladybugs. I asked her once when she was about eight and she just shrugged and said 'I've always known that.' It's been a long since I've paid close enough attention to spot something as small as a ladybug and that one took me by surprise and not in a good way. For the first time, though, the aftermath of a sneaker wave wasn't all bad. A lot of good memories came in on that tide. I think that's progress and to celebrate, I'd like to share the gift that David gave me for Mother's Day:


Take that, Wave. I'm learning to tread water.

Perfect Timing

In mid-April, as my least favorite time of the year hit with a vengeance, I threw myself into making a garden in the backyard. I broke sod, dug a plot, shopped for plants, and hauled mulch. I borrowed tools and robbed Peter to pay Home Depot. I raided my mom's yard for odds and ends and statuary that she's been holding on to for me for years.

This is where we started, four weeks ago on April 19th:

And this is where we are today:


Mother's Day is drawing to a close. This year, I did not scream at anyone except Dave (who understands and whose turn is coming); I did not hear from everyone I thought I would and I heard from a few people who surprised me in the best possible way (that happens every year on these hard days and I probably shouldn't keep that tally in my head but I do, and I probably shouldn't be surprised and disappointed each time, but I am).

Darling Anna and Jack came to visit me, courtesy of their parental-units; here they are, sitting on the coffee table with their beautiful mother:


Every one is at home now, and the planting is finished. After four weeks of spending every available minute of daylight working/digging/moving/sweating, there's nothing to do now but water when the rains are delayed and wait. Couldn't have worked out better if I'd planned it.

Mother's Day

If ever there's a day that's fraught with landmines and potential sneaker waves after you've lost a child it's this one. So far, this particular one has been pretty smooth. (It's early and I hope I haven't jinxed it.) I've been bustling about, catching up on the chores I've been neglecting while I've been obsessing over the vegetable garden and just letting the memories come as they will. One is especially sweet.

The year that Britt was seven she asked if she could throw a party for 'ALL the mommies' in her life. She invited me (I was flattered), both her grandmothers, my grandmother, and her aunts who lived in town. Everyone accepted and she was very excited about hosting her first grownup party. We had pastries and coffee and iced tea. There was lots of laughter (she graciously allowed her father to attend and eat some things but not some of everything because, after all, he was NOT a mommy). The best part, though, were the gifts, because she'd worked so hard on them and was so proud. She presented each of us with a strawberry pot filled with impatiens. Mine was larger than the others (flattered again), but they were all lovely and I was very proud of both her accomplishment and her sweetness.


Being Britt's mom is still the best gift ever. This pot was a pretty great one, too.

Marigolds for My Girl

Britt loved marigolds. She used to call planting them 'growing sunshine'. Our early flower gardens were mostly shaded and not particularly suited to growing them. She nurtured them in small pots in sunny spaces and wished for a huge, sunny yard. Then, that wish came true and we spent four years with a huge yard that got lots of sun. Every year, after we planted the vegetable garden, she and I would make a special trip to the nursery and gather some of every sort of marigold they had. Orange, red, yellow, small and big and even the giant African marigolds came home with us. We'd plant them around the vegetables like sentinels and she loved that her Growing Sunshine also helped to kept the pests away.

So, last night, in the last empty space in the vegetable plot, I planted a row of marigolds for my girl. We could all use a little extra sunshine, yes?

It's The Little Things

This looks like a mess. What it is is a victory. This story began two years ago when I first moved into this house and could not, after two weeks of searching, locate an outdoor water spigot. I finally stopped looking. About a week later, the crew I'd hired to clear the yard (which looked like it hadn't been touched in many many years) showed up and got to work. At the end of the day, they tamed the hundred year-old azaleas, uncovered two gorgeous hydrangeas, and found a small water spigot in the middle of the grass, just to the right of the back porch. On the other side of the fence. So, I bought a really long hose and that storage box to roll it up in...and mostly didn't use it.

Boo came to stay and we built a bigger fence and the hose was even more inaccessible and I didn't care. Until now. Because, really, you cannot garden without water. Even in southeast Georgia, where the rainy season is sensible enough to coincide with the growing season, there are going to be times when the rain does not come on the garden's schedule. And so I began searching for a solution. I've been haunting garden stores and hardware stores - both big box and local - for over a month. And, finally, during a lunch-hour trip to Home Depot, I stumbled across a box marked "Hose Holders - with and without faucets."

I'm sure the man at the Depot thought I was deranged, but I made him unpack it right in the middle of the aisle and I squealed with glee when he pulled out the Hose Holder With a Faucet. And I swear I heard Britt whisper 'Yessss!' And then, after work, I brought it home and insisted that we set it up before dinner. There's a 15-foot connector hose that runs through a crack in the fence (yes, I did break the newish fence and I don't care) to a feeder hole on the back of the holder. And another, small connecter from the faucet to the storage box. And I can turn that pretty blue handle and there is water in the backyard.

Yes.

Flowers and Frogs and a Little Mojo

Yesterday was another day spent noodling in the garden. I finally made it out to the county transfer station to pick up the free mulch I've been going on and on about (not here, maybe, but believe me...there are a lot of people in my life who reeeally tiiiired of hearing about Free Mulch!) and may I just say...Whoa! Those are some huge piles of mulch. I resisted the urge to give into aesthetics and opted for mulch from the oldest, darkest pile and have to say I am very pleased with the results. The only problem is I didn't take enough bags and so am a few feet short of having a fully mulched plot. (There's a metaphor there, I'm sure.)

Also, there are flowers on my tomatoes! Every single one of my Better Boys has flowers like this:

Mojo hung out with me, as usual, and actually consented to having his picture taken. He's hardly ever still when we're outside and I appreciated his willingness to pose with the Buddha Frog. Sort of. He's not sure he likes that frog and keeps his distance.

And, like always, spending time in the garden was also spending time with Britt. Nothing else I've done since she was killed has made me feel as close to her; digging and planting and tending this Earth she loved so much makes her present in a way I cannot describe but for which I am very grateful.

Marking The Day

This year's special remembrance of Britt was the flower garden I made in the old fire pit that was half-buried in our backyard. When I first moved in and explored this yard, I thought I would make fires there and sit and think about my girl. We've passed two winters here, and never got around to that. First, the fire pit was poorly placed by it's original builder; situated under the overhanging branches of the neighbor's trees, it seemed more a fire hazard. Secondly, I'm not a fan of cold weather and if it's cold enough to sit around fires, well, I'd rather be inside.

She loved our gardens when she was small (though as a teen she was more enthusiastic tender than planter) and so all of the gardening I've been doing lately has been a good way to spend time with her in my head. Last Saturday's flower garden was special though - a bed of impatiens was the first thing she and I ever planted and she loved the way they would lay down when they were thirsty and stand up ('so fast you can see them move!') so quickly after she watered them - and I surrounded it with the Frog Band she gave her Daddy for Father's Day one year.