on this day...

a fanciful twist

My roses are blooming.

I bought three packs of seeds at the nursery. Radishes, cucumbers, and peppers.

I started embroidering a pair of shoes.

Baby announcements have been ordered.

A good friend is coming to stay this weekend.

Henry has chub on his legs.

Happiness abounds.

~*~

the mabel tour

Gladiolus sprouts by the garden hose.

Some of you, most loyal of readers, may remember this post from last year. If you are new around here, take a minute and click over and read it. You need to be in the know for this.

I decided that although my garden has yet to burst into full bloom, it is high time for another Mabel Campbell tour. Humor me folks, I'm hanging on by a very thin thread these days with the Earth's revolution slowing down and all.

I need these little things to keep me from eating obsessively and twitching.


Soooo...


Without much ado, I give you my garden in May.

Here we have my tootsies nestled next to some of my most favorite of flowers that I can't for the life of me remember the name. A lady once rung my bell and asked me what they were and I had to send her away without any information. I'm quite sure she thought I was being rude and not giving out the name like some old prune and her recipes.

The climbing roses are just starting their fireworks show that unfortunately only lasts a month or so, but happens three time a year.

The Hollyhocks are almost eight feet high by my estimation, and blooming like there is no tomorrow. I dream of buying an old corn field and planting it with row upon row of hollyhocks for the mere purpose of running through them.
And the succulents. They have been commandeered by tiny spiders, but for some reason, I don't mind a bit.

This little ball of popcorn is the very first hydrangea to burst forth. I have ten hydrangea plants sprinkled around the yard, and I'm looking forward to hydrangea arrangements in my kitchen all Summer long.

Last but not least, there is this happy little plant that has yet to show its brilliance. It is covered with red blooms and the dahlias around the bottom will be happy little colors of pink, yellow and peach.

So there you have it. You've survived another Mabel Campbell tour. I'm quite sure she is up in heaven smiling down on me and trying to channel good garden vibes.

Two weeks from today we will be in the hospital getting ready to welcome Amelie to the world. I'm worried about my plants while I am gone. Sugar Daddy will be home part of the time, but the guy never remembers to water my plants. I am worried about Finnigan and Thom missing school and my jewelry business and people starving in China.

I need a chill pill. What I really need is a good massage and two weeks to pass.

I'm pretty sure these things will happen. But just in case the Earth comes to a complete stop, pray for me.

the giving camellia

I have a beautiful camellia plant growing in a pedestal pot on my patio. It is in full bloom right now and everyday it produces a new huge flower. I have become very fond of this plant in particular. It really seems to strive to please me and all it asks for in return is a little water and a shady place.

I want to be like that. I want to ask for very little and make those around me happy just by being me. I think I have a long way to go.

twigs and buds

I have been spending more and more time in my garden these days. Teasing each plant back to life. Talking to the vegetables. Puttering.

I feel anxious when I look at the buds on everything. They are shiny chartreuse babies. So vulnerable to weather and pests. So full of promise.

I realized today that maybe it isn't the buds I'm anxious about after all. We still have six weeks until our little girl arrives. Waiting isn't easy.

We bought a package of ladybugs to keep away the aphids. Thom loves to buy ladybugs and always begs to keep a few dozen in his bug catcher. Its a small price to pay for a couple days of pure boyhood fun.

I have decided that the boy will be my ladybug. We have six weeks left of pure one on one time. I'm keeping him in my bug jar. I just hope he fairs a little better than the less fortunate ones, loved to death by a boy, in the confines of a plastic bottle with a magnifying lid.

Check out these twiggy pretties.

This wall decal is available through Janey Mac:

I love these little twig bobbies by The Sparrow's Nest.


Elizabeth Scott's twig interpretation:

And mine:

just monday

Because on Mondays, I really need a good laugh:

You gotta love his enthusiasm. And now to another little matter. . .

Dear Miguel-

After this weekend, I feel that I owe you some sort of apology. It is true that in the past my patience for you has been somewhat lacking. I am prone to making rash judgements and jumping to conclusions. For this I am sorry. It is something I grapple with continually.

I first realized my err when I found out that you weren't able to mow for a week or so because your mower was broken. I hope the repair bill didn't cost too much. I was further shamed when you complimented my work with the succulents I was planting in the pilaster pots. I was a little startled when you appeared behind me and said , "Es muy bueno, Aprrrillll. Muy bueno." I turned to see you standing there in your Home Depot cap and secondhand glasses with a wide white smile on your brown face. I didn't know you wore glasses.

I hope I wasn't over bearing with my questions about how your family is doing. I felt awkward facing you after my unjustified judgements. You further solidified my new opinion of you when you replied that your son is "crecimiento mismo de la grasa y muy lindo". In my book, any man who brags how cute his kids are, must be principled and decent.

In the future, I will cut you more slack when you miss a week. I will inquire more about your personal life. I can see that it makes you happy to talk about your wife and son. In short, I will try to reserve my judgments to corrupt politicians and people at the DMV.

Sincerely,

Mrs. M

P.S. Please don't mention to any one that you saw me drinking a Red Bull and eating a Reese's peanut butter cup while I was planting. Nobody really needs to know.

letter of discontent

Because when it comes to confrontation I am a gutless wonder, I post this letter here. More letters to follow.

Dear Miguel-

I feel I need to have a word with you concerning your work, or lack thereof, in the yard. Please understand that when you don't show up to mow the lawn, it doesn't go unnoticed. In fact, it bothers me immensely. It makes me feel, disorganized and mangy every time I go outside.

You may have noticed that I am a wee bit behind on my own yard work. I am aware of this. However, when the lawn is cut, it adds a certain orderliness to the garden which allows me to further procrastinate my chores of weeding and trimming and therefore leaves me more time for crafting and playing.

All I ask is that you show up once a week. Mow and edge. Have a drink from the fridge. Enjoy yourself. If I can do anything else to make your time at our house more pleasurable let me know. Please help me to help you, help me to feel organized.

Sincerely,

Mrs. M

P.S. At this point you may be thinking back to the day when I arrived home from the beach with my swimsuit hiked up to keep it from touching my very sunburned bottom and I tumbled out the the car with bags and towel and boy in tow, and I stumbled over the garden hose loosing my sunglasses and scraping my knees and I crawled around at your feet for a while trying to get my bearing. You may be thinking of this day and saying to yourself, "I don't have to take this woman seriously." Just remember who writes out your pay check. Well- actually my husband does, but I could protest at any time if I wanted to.

August

My word, is August half over already? We have been busy, busy, busy around here. My crape myrtle finally bloomed for the first time. Isn't it beautiful? The last few tomatoes are dangling on the vines and the grapes are ripe and delicious. A back-to-school buzz is in the air. People are buying pencils and crayons. Backpacks seem to already be picked over, only the boring colors are left.

Thom won't start until after Labor day which gives us just enough time to fit in a late Summer family vacation to Maui.

I am getting excited to debut my Fall jewelry collection. It may include some island inspired pieces. Keep your eye on my shop around mid-September.

design sunday

I have a corner in my living room that is sad and lonely and has been since the day we moved in. I have spent two years wondering just what to put there. I spent a year or so looking at different house plants that might work until I came to the conclusion that I didn't really want a plant at all. I then thought I wanted to find a great pillar sort of thingy to put a vase or finial thingy on. So I spent the last year looking at stands and pillars and cement artichokes and the like and I haven't seen a single thing I liked.

The other day it finally hit me. I want a terrarium. Not a simple one either. I want a full on, Victorian glass and iron, free standing terrarium with orchids and ferns. Why, oh why can't I ever like the cheap solution?

The good ones start at around $300 and go up. It is an item I will have to save for and convince Sugar Daddy of it's artistic value. Wish me luck.

Terrariums were invented by Nathaniel Ward, an English physician and botanist who placed a cocoon in a closed jar for observation and soon noticed ferns growing in dirt at the jar’s bottom. They continued to grow and thrive in the protected, humid environment, although they died when he tried to grow them outdoors in London’s polluted air. Ward concluded that many plants that could not survive in the outdoor climate and air conditions could live quite healthily in the biospheres he built and called ferneries, one of which has been preserved by the Smithsonian Institution.

The doctor’s discovery led to a new horticultural era. Rare plants could be transported across continents and climate zones in what became known as Wardian cases, and wealthy British families started commissioning elaborate versions for their living rooms. The word “terrarium,” from the Latin ”terra,” meaning “earth,” is commonly used in the U.S.

If you have been blessed with simple taste, you need not spend a lot to create your own terrarium. A bell jar makes a fabulous, smaller, environment for a little garden, as does a apothecary jar or even, (if you aren't into aesthetics) a milk jug. Visit a good (read- not Home Depot or Lowe's) nursery and ask someone to help you select a few plants that thrive in glass house conditions.

If you are feeling inspired, and actually do assemble a terrarium, send me a pic. I'd love to see what other people are doing.

fruits of my labor

I came home to 77 degrees and a peach tree full of ripe fruit. It's peach pie for dessert tomorrow!

The nest in my fuschia plant is full of baby birds as is the nest under my bathroom window. They chirp wildly every time a parent arrives with a morsel. I am so glad they have survived. It isn't easy to water around a nest full of chicks.

I picked a couple juicy tomatoes for breakfast tomorrow. Nothing is quite as good as garden grown tomatoes with cottage cheese first thing in the morning. The Kyoho grapes are finally turning purple and will be ready to harvest in just a few weeks.

It feels good to be home.

prime real estate

A swanky little bird has taken up residence in my fuschia plant.

I have decided to call her Tessy Lou. A fussy name for a fussy fowl. Now I just have to figure out how to water my plant without getting the nest wet and cooling the eggs.

a good monday

Monday went by too fast. It was a good day.

addiction

I am officially addicted to hydrangeas and have been most of my adult life. I am up to ten plants in my yard. All of the above photos were taken at various spots around my garden except the top left hand photo. It was taken on Alcatraz Island of all places. I am going today to pick up two more plants. A girl can never have too many hydrangeas.

This is a digital piece of art I have been working on. I took a photo of my hanging fuchsia plant and played around with it. I think the end result looks like a photo from a 1960"s gardening book. I want to send it off to be printed on cotton paper.

*******************************************************************

And a little later in the morning. . .

I finished my post and set about my day. I was standing in my closet trying to pick out what to wear when a few things caught my eye. If you have seen the movie To Kill a Mockingbird or Amelie, you will recall that each movie has a box that is filled with a child's prized possessions. I did a blog a while back on my son's treasures. I am extremely interested in the things people keep in their bureau drawer. I think if you really want to know someone, you should ask to look through their valet tray. Here are a few things from Sugar Daddy's stash. The thing that stood out to me today is that the things he keeps in his drawer, don't represent who he really is, but more who he would like to be in another life.

A set of brass knuckles, a harmonica, a vintage Russian watch, a Blues CD, a pocket knife, Faconable cuff links I gave him for Christmas, a Zippo lighter, swim goggles and left over cash from his trip to Nicaragua.

So according to his valet drawer, I'm married to a member of the Russian mafia, who smokes, but takes pride in his appearance and listens to Blues. He may or may not have traveled to Nicaragua to do a hit.

Sounds just like the straight arrow attorney I know and love.

the birds and the bees

We have this really great enclosed patio. When we were looking for a house to buy, the patio sold us on the house. Someday I'll give the Mabel Campbell tour of all my plants on the patio, but today's story isn't about plants.

A mother bird has taken up residence behind the curtains. So far, she has been a pretty good tenant. Her nest is very tight and tidy, she doesn't poop in the surrounding area and she has a very sweet little chirping song. Every morning she perches in the Japanese maple and sings and stretches her wings. She has, however, made it difficult for me to enjoy my patio. Every time I go out to sit on the couch and have a cold drink, I get majorly told off in bird talk.

This morning, curiosity got the best of us and Sugar Daddy got the camera and a mirror. I'm guessing they only hatched a day or so ago.

Yesterday was a work in the yard day for me. I put in several new plants (photos to follow in a few days). The beast and the boy love to follow me around as I work. Thomas is a good helper and Finn, well let's just say the neighbors got an earful.

The boy is OBSESSED with bugs, much to my chagrin. I think he has three or four bug jars going right now. How anyone can like an earwig is way beyond my comprehension. He is especially interested in bees. I have been warning him for weeks now not to mess with bees. I guess it's just one life's lessons, like hot stoves and baking chocolate, that a kid has to learn by himself. So yesterday, as I was easing my new mini rose tree into it's new space in the soil, I heard the tell tale blood curdling scream of a stung child.

Five minutes of tears and a Popsicle later, he was fine. It didn't even swell. It is something to be able to be a stay-at-home mom and experience all the little things that make up life in detail with my son. I feel blessed. Blessed to know that my son isn't deathly allergic to bee stings but more so because the birds and the bees we are dealing with today are just that- birds and bees.

gratitude

I was complaining to a friend that it seems like all I've heard lately is bad news. I really just want to hear some good news. I was reminded today, as I was cutting roses from my garden, of a poem by my favorite poet.

A Prayer in Spring

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird

That suddenly above the bees is heard,

The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,

And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

The which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends He will,

But which it only needs that we fulfil.

-Robert Frost

friends & enemies

Elizabeth II

When I was little, my great-grandmother, (her name was Mabel, we called her Grandma-Great) would walk me around her yard and tell me all about her plants. As an eight-year-old, this made me want to gouge my eyes out, I found it so boring. She was very passionate about the flora she had collected over many years. I once saw her smash a slug with her bare hand. She ground it into the cement and let out a humph. I think for her, it was a personal attack for a slug to eat her plants.

She had two huge oak trees with my grandfather's navy hammock slung between them. A natural spring well bubbled up near the base of one tree and the water was ice cold even in August. A lilac bush climbed the rain pipe on the back of the house and smelled so sweet and strong that as you lay in the hammock with dappled light on your face, you felt you might become intoxicated. As I've said before, I grew up in Mayberry. I think my grandmother, with her magical garden, "planted" the proverbial seed in me to love plants.

I can't remember what this plant is called. It's little blooms are super fragrant.

Okay, so on to the friends and enemies. I HATE, really really hate grasshoppers. I'd rather have a cockroach crawl across my foot than one of these nasty, crunchy bugs. We went to the nursery last weekend and Thom was begging for a treat. He choose a bag of ladybugs. Ben and I were more than happy to have them. The aphids are out in full force!

This little SOB was eating my "Voluptuous" rose, but I was too afraid to kill him.

Here is my newly planted garden. Look at the row of radishes. We planted the seeds only a week ago!

My Don Juan rose grows on a trellis on the front of the house.

"I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it.... People think pleasing God is all God care about. But any fool living in the world can see it always trying to please us back." ~Alice Walker





This Chris Everett rose has been shaped into a tree and is potted on the back patio.

This one's called Henry Fonda.

And last, but not least, my foxgloves and birdhouse.

So now you have had the Mabel Campbell tour of my garden. I hope you don't want to gouge your eyes out.