I don't get to update here much literally, but I actually do update this blog in my thoughts everyday. I'll have to get into more detail with new photos and stories next week. Having a blog on yardening is hard to do since you're mainly outside most of the time -- digging, weeding, planting and replanting, making birdfeeders out of twisted copper and feeding the birds. It seems endless, and it always grows back, but at least you have more beauty to share at the end.
Until then, I read a thought for the day and a story that I wanted to post quickly. I'll be back next week with updates and photos.
A sower went out to sow. And as he sowed, some seeds fell on the path, and the birds came and ate them up.
Other seeds fell on rocky ground, where they did not have much soil, and they sprang up quickly, since they had no depth of soil. But when the sun rose, they were scorched; and since they had no root, they withered away.
Other seeds fell among thorns, and the thorns grew up and choked them.
But other seeds fell on good soil and brought forth grain, some a hundredfold, some sixty, some thirty.
"A pure heart is like a garden with good soil." ~ Mary Ellen Main
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Time flies when you're making platelets.
For the most part, that is where I have been ~ off building platelets (thank you, God) while trying to think and not think at the same time. It's not as easy as it looks. Still sorting through the weeds in the backyard here (naturally, my mother's taken over so I like to stand back and mostly carry things around, rearranging here and there, and then noticing most things I have rearranged move back to the original location, so it's a never-ending job) and replanting the front yarden in Memphis. It was a flying trip but worth it. The roses hadn't been cut back properly, but four of five bushes are going wild in the face of neglect. Good. Not only did that ease my Garden Guilt over not taking an hour before on other trips to cut them back and shape them, but it also shows me what not to do to make them flourish. Only one bush got spindly and leggy. It was a miniature red rose that I'd planted on a lark, and it grew to epic proportions. I've been half expecting it to exhaust itself and die under its own weight, but as I removed the dead wood and reshaped it, I know it'll regrow itself strong and filled with sweetly scented blooms if I just give it time with itself and the earth.
The boxwood bushes need trimming, but I'll get to the last, I know it. It's funny ~ I'm halfway scared of bushes because you never know what's hiding in them. Garter snakes, a praying mantis or two, and hopefully a garden spider or two. Last year, Yardley showed up. He was a giant yellow and black garden spider. Not huggable, but I grew to love him and respect him, seeing him as a sign of a maturing, established eco-system in a tiny, experimental Yarden. I think Yardley was a "he", but I hope he was a "she". I'd like to see a baby Yardley or two.
Two or three years ago, I got tired of looking across the street at the friendly metrosexual's ever-changing landscape. I turned various shades of green with friendly heterosexual envy. "Man. Look at that tree...I don't know what it is, but I want one." All I had was the short, scraggly oak tree that was full of promise but lacking in overall pizazz. "You don't flower, do you?"I asked. It didn't answer, so I took that as a "no." My mom always said, "Flowers you plant for yourself. Trees you plant for other people ten years down the road." Tell that to the friendly metrosexual across the street secretly driving me crazy with his willows and flowering whatnots.
Even though I felt back about having the sad little oak axed, I picked out the prettiest flowering tree I could afford at the nursery, one that would to well in the sandy-soil of the Yarden. Really, I wanted a red Japanese maple, but they can't take full sun, so I read and heard. Instead I chose a snowgoose cherry tree and had the professionals amend the soil and plant it. Rest in peace, tiny oak, but the snowgoose cherry? It had to be done.
Every year the snowgoose does its thing, exploding with thousands of fluffy clumps of tiny white flowers, centered with bright yellow, all on a background of that fresh neon spring-green before the first good rain in late March knocks them all to the ground. Instead of letting the grass regrow over the roots around the base of the snowgoose, I've always liked digging a small rounded flowerbed there, trying different plants that like full- to partial-sun. Pansies and petunias work great any time of the year they are planted. When I see pansies poking their faces through a late winter snowfall around the snowgoose, I can't imagine why anyone would call someone lacking courage "a pansy." There's a bully's mind for you ~ shallow as a piepan.
I still know less about them than I did when I planted them, but I knew absolutely nothing about carnations when I planted them as edging around the outside rim of the tiny, round flowerbed. But they have lasted for two years now, producing at least two good batches of spice-scented bouquets of pinks, reds, and whites. Knowing even less about tulips, one year I even tried tulip bulbs in the little round bed, not knowing whether they'd grow at all, but they did. They grew up and flowered around Valentine's Day. A few of them actually wintered over this year and came up this Valentine's Day. That's what I like about planting bulbs ~ in my case, I forget about them until they grow back, defeating the odds most always.
Over the winter and early spring, the ring of carnations had grown thick on one side and lopsided and weedy on the other. The ground-feeding birds, my favorite trio of mouring doves, squashed the life out of the smaller, struggling plants, too. But as everyone knows for a fact, if you don't feed the birds, St. Francis will give you a pox of cold sores. Or is it ringworms? Well. it's something like that. Sure. It may not be true, but I'm not taking any chances.
A giant wadding of healthy-yet-sad carnation plants are budding fiercely, leaning toward the west as the others are dying out under the true north shade. In the end, they will all have to be replaced, but I will try to transplant some of the healthier ones to the other flowerbeds and see if they take. I can't cut back flowers that are on the verge of blooming, however moth-eaten they look from the street. (Take that, friendly metrosexual.) The challenge is now finding something small, affordable, and medium to dark green, preferably non-flowering, to replace the carnations as edging. "Mondo grass," my mom said. "Also, I don't want the word 'mondo' in it." It has to be small and manageable. That is the way I like it.
Oh yeah, and cheap.
So as a affordable attempt at the redo, I planted a ring of powdery white dusty millers close to the base of the tree, with a ring of orange and yellow french marigolds and lacey carmine petunias mixed in for variety. So besides the edging, I'm now looking for *something blue or purple besides a pansy or petunia, just for the heck of it* to mix around in the bare spots and borders, but I can't think of anything yet... Anyway, it should take the carnations a week or two to bloom out, so I can cut them and spruce up the inside of the house for a couple of weeks.
Anyway, for once in my life I can say my little Yarden looks the best on the block.
Sure, I'd like to think it's raw talent, but really, it's only because no one on my block plants flowers but me. I know. There goes the neighborhood, right? I don't understand people who don't want to plant flowers.
Well, my yard looks almost as good as the friendly metrosexual's yard anyway. But lately, his yard has been slipping a bit, so I'm not convinced he hasn't moved. Well, alright. If so, thank you friendly metrosexual, for opening my eyes to the endless possibilities of simple beautification with anything green and blooming, plus the friendly competition of a small Yardening. Even without the disposable income you obviously had, I hope I gave you a run for the money. Thank you for the inspiration, wherever you are. And wherever you are, please don't tell me. Because I'm on a budget always.
But I can't trade being outside, dreaming away over perennials and annuals. for slaving away indoors for someone else's temporary and monetary dreams. Violets and roses, that's all I think about all day anyway...
Hey, that's it! Violets, or violas ~ the purple ones, or blue and white. Flowerbed, done. Now, the edging...
So that's where I have been. Stringing lines back and forth between here and Memphis and trying not to feel like an egg with a cracked shell, but more like a wobbly bird just big enough to jump out onto a thin, springy snowgoose branch, seeing the blue sky above but keeping her eye on the cat on the ground. The weather has been so nice the past few weeks that I can't stay indoors however hard I try, knowing that the indoors turns a soul into muck instead of...mulch?
Ew. See? Time for everybody to go back outside. Personally, I'm not quite de-mucked yet.
But you just wait until it's hotter than as Hades outside, complete with those evil dive-bombing bugs and West-Niler type mosquitos who drink citronella for a good buzz. They spritz with DDT. They floss with cat's whiskers.
The boxwood bushes need trimming, but I'll get to the last, I know it. It's funny ~ I'm halfway scared of bushes because you never know what's hiding in them. Garter snakes, a praying mantis or two, and hopefully a garden spider or two. Last year, Yardley showed up. He was a giant yellow and black garden spider. Not huggable, but I grew to love him and respect him, seeing him as a sign of a maturing, established eco-system in a tiny, experimental Yarden. I think Yardley was a "he", but I hope he was a "she". I'd like to see a baby Yardley or two.
Two or three years ago, I got tired of looking across the street at the friendly metrosexual's ever-changing landscape. I turned various shades of green with friendly heterosexual envy. "Man. Look at that tree...I don't know what it is, but I want one." All I had was the short, scraggly oak tree that was full of promise but lacking in overall pizazz. "You don't flower, do you?"I asked. It didn't answer, so I took that as a "no." My mom always said, "Flowers you plant for yourself. Trees you plant for other people ten years down the road." Tell that to the friendly metrosexual across the street secretly driving me crazy with his willows and flowering whatnots.
Even though I felt back about having the sad little oak axed, I picked out the prettiest flowering tree I could afford at the nursery, one that would to well in the sandy-soil of the Yarden. Really, I wanted a red Japanese maple, but they can't take full sun, so I read and heard. Instead I chose a snowgoose cherry tree and had the professionals amend the soil and plant it. Rest in peace, tiny oak, but the snowgoose cherry? It had to be done.
Every year the snowgoose does its thing, exploding with thousands of fluffy clumps of tiny white flowers, centered with bright yellow, all on a background of that fresh neon spring-green before the first good rain in late March knocks them all to the ground. Instead of letting the grass regrow over the roots around the base of the snowgoose, I've always liked digging a small rounded flowerbed there, trying different plants that like full- to partial-sun. Pansies and petunias work great any time of the year they are planted. When I see pansies poking their faces through a late winter snowfall around the snowgoose, I can't imagine why anyone would call someone lacking courage "a pansy." There's a bully's mind for you ~ shallow as a piepan.
I still know less about them than I did when I planted them, but I knew absolutely nothing about carnations when I planted them as edging around the outside rim of the tiny, round flowerbed. But they have lasted for two years now, producing at least two good batches of spice-scented bouquets of pinks, reds, and whites. Knowing even less about tulips, one year I even tried tulip bulbs in the little round bed, not knowing whether they'd grow at all, but they did. They grew up and flowered around Valentine's Day. A few of them actually wintered over this year and came up this Valentine's Day. That's what I like about planting bulbs ~ in my case, I forget about them until they grow back, defeating the odds most always.
Over the winter and early spring, the ring of carnations had grown thick on one side and lopsided and weedy on the other. The ground-feeding birds, my favorite trio of mouring doves, squashed the life out of the smaller, struggling plants, too. But as everyone knows for a fact, if you don't feed the birds, St. Francis will give you a pox of cold sores. Or is it ringworms? Well. it's something like that. Sure. It may not be true, but I'm not taking any chances.
A giant wadding of healthy-yet-sad carnation plants are budding fiercely, leaning toward the west as the others are dying out under the true north shade. In the end, they will all have to be replaced, but I will try to transplant some of the healthier ones to the other flowerbeds and see if they take. I can't cut back flowers that are on the verge of blooming, however moth-eaten they look from the street. (Take that, friendly metrosexual.) The challenge is now finding something small, affordable, and medium to dark green, preferably non-flowering, to replace the carnations as edging. "Mondo grass," my mom said. "Also, I don't want the word 'mondo' in it." It has to be small and manageable. That is the way I like it.
Oh yeah, and cheap.
So as a affordable attempt at the redo, I planted a ring of powdery white dusty millers close to the base of the tree, with a ring of orange and yellow french marigolds and lacey carmine petunias mixed in for variety. So besides the edging, I'm now looking for *something blue or purple besides a pansy or petunia, just for the heck of it* to mix around in the bare spots and borders, but I can't think of anything yet... Anyway, it should take the carnations a week or two to bloom out, so I can cut them and spruce up the inside of the house for a couple of weeks.
Anyway, for once in my life I can say my little Yarden looks the best on the block.
Sure, I'd like to think it's raw talent, but really, it's only because no one on my block plants flowers but me. I know. There goes the neighborhood, right? I don't understand people who don't want to plant flowers.
Well, my yard looks almost as good as the friendly metrosexual's yard anyway. But lately, his yard has been slipping a bit, so I'm not convinced he hasn't moved. Well, alright. If so, thank you friendly metrosexual, for opening my eyes to the endless possibilities of simple beautification with anything green and blooming, plus the friendly competition of a small Yardening. Even without the disposable income you obviously had, I hope I gave you a run for the money. Thank you for the inspiration, wherever you are. And wherever you are, please don't tell me. Because I'm on a budget always.
But I can't trade being outside, dreaming away over perennials and annuals. for slaving away indoors for someone else's temporary and monetary dreams. Violets and roses, that's all I think about all day anyway...
Hey, that's it! Violets, or violas ~ the purple ones, or blue and white. Flowerbed, done. Now, the edging...
So that's where I have been. Stringing lines back and forth between here and Memphis and trying not to feel like an egg with a cracked shell, but more like a wobbly bird just big enough to jump out onto a thin, springy snowgoose branch, seeing the blue sky above but keeping her eye on the cat on the ground. The weather has been so nice the past few weeks that I can't stay indoors however hard I try, knowing that the indoors turns a soul into muck instead of...mulch?
Ew. See? Time for everybody to go back outside. Personally, I'm not quite de-mucked yet.
But you just wait until it's hotter than as Hades outside, complete with those evil dive-bombing bugs and West-Niler type mosquitos who drink citronella for a good buzz. They spritz with DDT. They floss with cat's whiskers.
Monday, March 19, 2007
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Bonsais, Roadtrips, and Bleeding Hearts.
That's what I've been doing the past 3 weeks ~ an accidental vacation it'd seem to on-lookers, but actually it was plenty of work and non-stop errands for me to do. Not all of it was fun, but it's nice to breathe a sigh of relief even if they come few and far between sometimes. Some days, you have to choose the positive and make your fun while the sun shines.
The way I see it, winding your way through a garden shop is one of the best things you can do to re-adjust your attitude on just about any day. I especially love when the cool spring days give way to warmer ones ~ wandering around through the cool air in the shade and the warmer air in the sunlight. Buying plants is like buying hope and beauty one pot at a time. So far, we've picked over rows and rows of new seasonal arrivals, and carted home reliable favorites like sturdy, fuzzy red geraniums and delicate, frilly petunias, resisting a Meyer's lemon tree along the way, but unable to walk away without the bleeding heart plant.
"How ironically appropriate for me," yes, I know.
We've cleaned and re-cleaned the fish pond, arranged and re-arranged potted plants and statuaries, filled and re-filled and re-filled and re-filled bird feeders. Yum-Yum the Raccoon has been introduced to sliced roast beef, Dole raisins, and peanuts in the shell. I made a flying trip to Memphis to check on things and bring my cat Googie here for a few more weeks, however long it takes me to figure out where I am going to stay-put for awhile. Sometimes I feel like I am crawling, and I'm past being tired of being a recovering patient of this aplastic anemia. But I'll take it over the alternative and appreciate the new growth, still figuring things out along the way as I hopefully and steadily make platelets ~ and as I help replant the entire backyard with new, sturdy, healthy plants and do any other yardwork that pops up never-ending.
As for the bonsai project, it's a really simple ~ just a trip to the nursery (or in my case, the simpler and closer option, Lowe's) for one dwarf juniper, a pretty pot with proper drainage, and a sharp pair of scissors.
Start by trimming away the bigger chunks down to the trunk, making sure to leave key pieces. Just remember it's a subtractive process, so don't over-prune it. But don't let that stress you, or else you can't get zen with it. I should've said, "Start by listening to your favorite CD so you can enjoy the process." (That's standard advice from me everyday for everything anyway ~"listen to good music.")
Keep trimming away tinier branches and bits of green growth to expose even more of the curly trunk underneath, cleanly pulling away the tiniest bits of green along the trunk,
slowly pruning it down to a windswept skeleton,
exposing some of the roots if you find some thicker ones,
then topping it off with a miniature garden gnome named Morty McSmallbottoms given to you by your incredibly awesome cousin (thank you, Tracy!)
Along the way, repair any split branches with a little copper wire, clipped and shaped into ornamental twists. It may not work in the end, but it looks good while trying.
(Again, that's standard advice from me everyday for everything anyway ~"try to look good while you're at it." Hey, why not? Aw, that's the Southern girl in me talkin'. And don't forget to bring along your favorite CDs.)
For a bit more information on do-it-yourself bonsais, see DIY.com, and "How to Make a Bonsai Tree" at lifehacker.com.
Update on the Morty McSmallbottoms: His agent called and offered him a tv commercial gig in Australia. Gnomes are in high demand, and I couldn't match the day-rate the Aussies worked, so he broke his contract with me. No hard feelings, I even drove him to the airport. But I had to replace him with a tiny mudwoman named Suki. I even gave her a small carpet of moss I dug up from the chilly backyard shadowlands. She's nice and makes a hell of a crispy crawfish roll and nigiri, so we're good.
The way I see it, winding your way through a garden shop is one of the best things you can do to re-adjust your attitude on just about any day. I especially love when the cool spring days give way to warmer ones ~ wandering around through the cool air in the shade and the warmer air in the sunlight. Buying plants is like buying hope and beauty one pot at a time. So far, we've picked over rows and rows of new seasonal arrivals, and carted home reliable favorites like sturdy, fuzzy red geraniums and delicate, frilly petunias, resisting a Meyer's lemon tree along the way, but unable to walk away without the bleeding heart plant.
"How ironically appropriate for me," yes, I know.
We've cleaned and re-cleaned the fish pond, arranged and re-arranged potted plants and statuaries, filled and re-filled and re-filled and re-filled bird feeders. Yum-Yum the Raccoon has been introduced to sliced roast beef, Dole raisins, and peanuts in the shell. I made a flying trip to Memphis to check on things and bring my cat Googie here for a few more weeks, however long it takes me to figure out where I am going to stay-put for awhile. Sometimes I feel like I am crawling, and I'm past being tired of being a recovering patient of this aplastic anemia. But I'll take it over the alternative and appreciate the new growth, still figuring things out along the way as I hopefully and steadily make platelets ~ and as I help replant the entire backyard with new, sturdy, healthy plants and do any other yardwork that pops up never-ending.
As for the bonsai project, it's a really simple ~ just a trip to the nursery (or in my case, the simpler and closer option, Lowe's) for one dwarf juniper, a pretty pot with proper drainage, and a sharp pair of scissors.
Start by trimming away the bigger chunks down to the trunk, making sure to leave key pieces. Just remember it's a subtractive process, so don't over-prune it. But don't let that stress you, or else you can't get zen with it. I should've said, "Start by listening to your favorite CD so you can enjoy the process." (That's standard advice from me everyday for everything anyway ~"listen to good music.")
Keep trimming away tinier branches and bits of green growth to expose even more of the curly trunk underneath, cleanly pulling away the tiniest bits of green along the trunk,
slowly pruning it down to a windswept skeleton,
exposing some of the roots if you find some thicker ones,
then topping it off with a miniature garden gnome named Morty McSmallbottoms given to you by your incredibly awesome cousin (thank you, Tracy!)
Along the way, repair any split branches with a little copper wire, clipped and shaped into ornamental twists. It may not work in the end, but it looks good while trying.
(Again, that's standard advice from me everyday for everything anyway ~"try to look good while you're at it." Hey, why not? Aw, that's the Southern girl in me talkin'. And don't forget to bring along your favorite CDs.)
For a bit more information on do-it-yourself bonsais, see DIY.com, and "How to Make a Bonsai Tree" at lifehacker.com.
Update on the Morty McSmallbottoms: His agent called and offered him a tv commercial gig in Australia. Gnomes are in high demand, and I couldn't match the day-rate the Aussies worked, so he broke his contract with me. No hard feelings, I even drove him to the airport. But I had to replace him with a tiny mudwoman named Suki. I even gave her a small carpet of moss I dug up from the chilly backyard shadowlands. She's nice and makes a hell of a crispy crawfish roll and nigiri, so we're good.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Starting over with a trinity of potted roses.
I love my miniature roses. Honestly. And I have no real ideas of how to grow these properly ~ so what I do is plant them in good, moist soil with a bit of sandiness to it, feed them with Bayer Triple-Action Rose Food every now and then, water the before they look tired, and move them around into the light until they find just the right amount of happiness and begin to grow. Sounds like good advice for just about anything, doesn't it? The two scraggled ones you see here are two of the three originals I brought back. The third, my mom commented under her breath about me watering them and cows coming home until I rolled my eyes like a hormonal 16 year-old and sighed, "Okay okay, I GET it. It's DEAD. Sheesh!"Not wanting to give up on the sad, browning stick of a plant left poking up from the dry soil, I decided part of starting over is getting rid of something truly unressurectable. (Is that a word? It is now.) So, two of the plants looked prunable (another made-up word, huh?), I cut back the dead wood and shaped them to create regrowth. With the truly sad, browning stick, most of it snapped between my fingers when I tested it. That meant it was dry and dead inside. So I pulled it up and tossed it in the can.
Then, I realized another part of starting over is planting a brand new start with a beautiful, new plant. This healthy red one happens to be a late Valentine's gift from Ron. Thank you, Ron ~ you know how I love those miniature roses. And the color red. And clean hardwood floors. So thank you for all three.
Out in The Yarden again today ~ the weather here is in the mid-70s. I'm a little tired from my trip to Memphis yesterday, but I think I'm good. In fact, I know I am.
Last Sunday night before we left out the next morning for Memphis, I picked up 1.2 million pine cones. I forgot how much I really, really hate picking up pinecones. It took me back to fourth grade and chores I'd do around the yard for money. I didn't get an allowance. I think I just got respect. Wait, I got neither. But I never hurt for a thing. But man, pinecones, character-builders? Let's hope so...
Well, that's where all the seeds are, So if you want to have trees, you have to have prickly pinecones. Life is funny that way. And thank the sweet God in the sky that I like funny.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
A Sunday Scribble for you,
based on a talk today by Ross Olivier.
(Thank you, Ross.)
We're getting out in The Yarden. No, really. The weather is gorgeous at 48 degrees and sunny, not icy. The birds are singing, the bells are ringing for me and my gal. (Love Judy Garland tunes, can you tell?) Yesterday, I turned the compost, adding scraps and coffee grounds, eggshells, banana peels, feeding the earth for The Yarden. We've got big plans, starting with those roses to be planted.
Photos this afternoon...
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Finished.
I think my Dad would be proud. Hung it back in front of his workshop out back. I love his workshop. We'll keep it busy and happy for him.
His cat Rainbow was obviously impressed.
Sunday, February 11, 2007
Today's project: patience and repair.
Of course, the moment I say we're going to get in the yarden to plant roses, the weather went very cold on us for a few days ~ down in the 30s with rainshowers, no ice here though. Isn't that always the way? But that is good in the end. It makes you look for other things to tidy up, filling birdfeeders always, while the sun shines somewhere behind the clouds, waiting. Soon enough, it will be really hot and humid here. Too hot and humid if you ask me. I like the slightly cooler weather and occasional snows of Memphis, but the flowers and vegetation here in Mississippi can get Amazon-lush quickly because of the conditions. It's big and bold and beautiful when it comes on, especially the azalea bushes to come soon for spring. So, looking at it that way, the impending heat is easier to rationalize.But for now, here I am: in the sewing room turned beadshop, with the gas heater burning low behind me. I'm repairing my dad's work of art that I pilfered from his workshop awnings. He made this windchime years ago out of some huge, spent caliber shells (obviously military) with a lead fishing line weight for the *dinger* in the center. The fishing line has rotted, and the coffee can lid he used as the windcatcher crumbled in my hands as I carefully lifted it down. In the pantry, I found this coffee can lid he had labeled, carefully, as a thorough research chemist would tend to do. And I love that it's his handwriting, so it's perfect.
The main structure it all hangs upon was carefully twisted from heavy gauge wire that is now mostly rust and weathered bits of corrosion. But to me, it's beautiful. I'm keeping it as long as it holds up because he made it with his own hands, and it reminds me of him and his spirit, still lingering in the winds around me. I look up at the blue sky and see the color of his eyes. It makes me cry every time I think of him, but I smile at the same time ~ honored to know such a good man who touched so many people's lives in such a giving, laughing way. I thank God and the heavens for my knowing him, and know I will see his sky blue eyes again and hold his hand one day.
It's what I not only believe, but I know because I've seen it. I promise it exists, if that helps you to know that. And so, patience. Patience is so hard. To me, that is the word for the day for about 64 days in a row now. But while you are waiting for whatever it is you are wanting or needing, don't forget to spread around some seeds of goodness. That's one of the reasons we're all here to begin with, I think. Reaping what you sow. And building peace and patience, with your own hands. And with patience, everything grows. Platelets, roses, and all things good.
~ Make a warm, sunny day with your own hands. ~
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Getting out into The Yarden to plant roses today.
Superbowl Sunday, we went to Lowe's. Had the place to ourselves, obviously. We only bought six pansies, yellow, to start in pots for color. And couldn't resist the roses. They're called Knockout Roses and they are really thorny (not good for those avoiding scratches but worth it), and they are extremely hardy roses with dark-green foliage and loose, colorful blooms. Say they are resistant to black-spot. I believe it.
Some buds are beginning to pop already which is amazing my mom, but not me. In Memphis, slightly cooler and less humid, my roses did best in those slightly cooler temps and sandy soil where I live. Plus these Knockout Roses say they are winter-hardy. And even though Zone 7-8ish's winter was mild this year, my mom's one bush planted last year looks absolutely perfect, with baby/new growth burgandy-colored foliage to prove it's happy. We're going to plant two more by that one to fluff it into a proper rosebed.
Speaking of, I went to the doctor yesterday and seems like my platelet count stayed steady instead of dropping this time. Hmm. Doesn't that sound like someone growing platelets to you? It does to me. I'll know more this Friday. PS: Thank you, God.
Until photos, here is a nice, happy, beardy statue for you. Enjoy!
Some buds are beginning to pop already which is amazing my mom, but not me. In Memphis, slightly cooler and less humid, my roses did best in those slightly cooler temps and sandy soil where I live. Plus these Knockout Roses say they are winter-hardy. And even though Zone 7-8ish's winter was mild this year, my mom's one bush planted last year looks absolutely perfect, with baby/new growth burgandy-colored foliage to prove it's happy. We're going to plant two more by that one to fluff it into a proper rosebed.
Speaking of, I went to the doctor yesterday and seems like my platelet count stayed steady instead of dropping this time. Hmm. Doesn't that sound like someone growing platelets to you? It does to me. I'll know more this Friday. PS: Thank you, God.
Until photos, here is a nice, happy, beardy statue for you. Enjoy!
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Introducing "The Yarden"...re-introducing, really...
It's early Sunday, just waking up now (this might take awhile), and the weather where I am is way past beautiful today. Gives a whole new meaning to the word, breaking it down into reverse, "day of sun" so bright, slanting and painting the canvas of trees, bushes, shrubs, and anything with dimension, large and small. It's awe-inspiring. I hope wherever you are it's the same kind of beautiful Sunday.
Yesterday, I began digging around in my mom's backyard. I've been living with her since December 8, 2006, instead of my home 210-miles north of here in Memphis, Tennessee. See, I have aplastic anemia caused by immune thrombocytopenia purpura, which, yeah, I'd never heard of in my life until I began with the bruises that wouldn't heal and a platelet count one-fifth of what a normal body should have, what my normal body used to have. Taken for granted for 30 (-coughcough) years.
Explanation in an acorn: it means my body switched on an antibody to fight a vague, common, passing virus sometime in 2006 ~ whatever, right? Normal, the way a body was divinely designed to do. But then, for whatever reason, the antibody never switched off and began to attack healthy cells ~ in my case destroying my platelets, damaging my platelet-producing stem cells where they grow. Not having platelets equals not being able to make blood clots, plus other things. Aplastic anemia is a blood disorder which was once chronic and fatal. But with modern medical advancement, treatment and transfusions and an exceptional, healing doctor and staff, it can be an acute yet curable disease. That's what I think I have: acute versus chronic. I believe I will grow my own platelets again. If not, it's chronic, and I will try more treatments.
When you're feeling your worst, that's when you get to know yourself the best. ~ L. Grossman
Yesterday and today, sorting and clearing the dead leaves above, for new growing spouts underneath, I'll be working in her yard on a beautiful sunny day. Observing, renewing, and reporting. Guided. Clearing a path for new growth ~ exactly the way the earth's flora and fauna and human souls were divinely designed to do ~ rearranging pots and statuary into peaceful groups, splattering the backyard with as much color as I can help pull out of God's ground ~ especially as many red flourishes as I can. Red is my favorite color. Blood red, and pink. I know, I know, irony...get used to irony and laughing around here.
And underlying spirituality, sproutings and cuttings. I respect all forms of spirituality based on good and spreading seeds of goodness, so all comments and views are not only welcomed but encouraged. It helps me learn, and grow from the inside out, the way that body, minds and souls are intended to do.
Plus, I like giving product reviews and book recommendations, such as this one~
"Easy Garden Projects to Make, Build, and Grow"
edited by Barbara Pleasant (and the editors of Yankee Magazine)
This is just the book you need if you're looking for jumpstart ideas, for simple-yet-cool things to spruce up your garden, yard, or even apartment window box or two. It's illustrated nicely, with simple instructions, and that is EXACTLY what I like. If a project becomes too complicated, my fruitfly-like attention span is gone...know what I mean? Sparkly objects...What were we talkin' about again? Oh yeah, The Yarden...
Since I started this blog over a year ago intended for my own tiny yard and garden in Memphis, I never had the time and energy to post. Too much stress in your life will do that to you, and will break your body, so my advice: Get out and garden. It relieves stress and brings out the beauty given to us from the earth and whatever god you believe in. I'll be updating here with words and photos in my new home-away-from-home, showing the growth of new spring things in my new growing zone, Zone 7-ish-8 of Jackson, Mississippi ~ where with the help of God and the powers of good, I'm going to grow any and everything I can get my hands on, including healthy platelets.
Plus, I forgot to mention, the animals we have here ~ one good Kitty named Rainbow, a koi fishpond, tons of native birds to choose from (with one, elusive white or albino cardinal), and one *acquired pet* raccoon that we've named YumYum. He likes grapes in particular.
Speaking of grapes, and synchronicity, today I enjoyed Galloway's Ross Olivier via television, talking about "living in the vine or living in the world". It will posted soon as 02/04/07 podcast. It was so dead-on to the thoughts placed in my head this morning waiting, how I woke up, listenin'-receivin'-writin' as I promised to do, I just have to post it. It just proves the universal powers are workin' hard today for us all to spread seeds and bear fruit, the entire world over, doing so from the inside-out.
Out to the garden now. You, too.
~ peace, and enjoy ~
Yesterday, I began digging around in my mom's backyard. I've been living with her since December 8, 2006, instead of my home 210-miles north of here in Memphis, Tennessee. See, I have aplastic anemia caused by immune thrombocytopenia purpura, which, yeah, I'd never heard of in my life until I began with the bruises that wouldn't heal and a platelet count one-fifth of what a normal body should have, what my normal body used to have. Taken for granted for 30 (-coughcough) years.
Explanation in an acorn: it means my body switched on an antibody to fight a vague, common, passing virus sometime in 2006 ~ whatever, right? Normal, the way a body was divinely designed to do. But then, for whatever reason, the antibody never switched off and began to attack healthy cells ~ in my case destroying my platelets, damaging my platelet-producing stem cells where they grow. Not having platelets equals not being able to make blood clots, plus other things. Aplastic anemia is a blood disorder which was once chronic and fatal. But with modern medical advancement, treatment and transfusions and an exceptional, healing doctor and staff, it can be an acute yet curable disease. That's what I think I have: acute versus chronic. I believe I will grow my own platelets again. If not, it's chronic, and I will try more treatments.
When you're feeling your worst, that's when you get to know yourself the best. ~ L. Grossman
Yesterday and today, sorting and clearing the dead leaves above, for new growing spouts underneath, I'll be working in her yard on a beautiful sunny day. Observing, renewing, and reporting. Guided. Clearing a path for new growth ~ exactly the way the earth's flora and fauna and human souls were divinely designed to do ~ rearranging pots and statuary into peaceful groups, splattering the backyard with as much color as I can help pull out of God's ground ~ especially as many red flourishes as I can. Red is my favorite color. Blood red, and pink. I know, I know, irony...get used to irony and laughing around here.
And underlying spirituality, sproutings and cuttings. I respect all forms of spirituality based on good and spreading seeds of goodness, so all comments and views are not only welcomed but encouraged. It helps me learn, and grow from the inside out, the way that body, minds and souls are intended to do.
Plus, I like giving product reviews and book recommendations, such as this one~
"Easy Garden Projects to Make, Build, and Grow"
edited by Barbara Pleasant (and the editors of Yankee Magazine)
This is just the book you need if you're looking for jumpstart ideas, for simple-yet-cool things to spruce up your garden, yard, or even apartment window box or two. It's illustrated nicely, with simple instructions, and that is EXACTLY what I like. If a project becomes too complicated, my fruitfly-like attention span is gone...know what I mean? Sparkly objects...What were we talkin' about again? Oh yeah, The Yarden...
Since I started this blog over a year ago intended for my own tiny yard and garden in Memphis, I never had the time and energy to post. Too much stress in your life will do that to you, and will break your body, so my advice: Get out and garden. It relieves stress and brings out the beauty given to us from the earth and whatever god you believe in. I'll be updating here with words and photos in my new home-away-from-home, showing the growth of new spring things in my new growing zone, Zone 7-ish-8 of Jackson, Mississippi ~ where with the help of God and the powers of good, I'm going to grow any and everything I can get my hands on, including healthy platelets.
Plus, I forgot to mention, the animals we have here ~ one good Kitty named Rainbow, a koi fishpond, tons of native birds to choose from (with one, elusive white or albino cardinal), and one *acquired pet* raccoon that we've named YumYum. He likes grapes in particular.
Speaking of grapes, and synchronicity, today I enjoyed Galloway's Ross Olivier via television, talking about "living in the vine or living in the world". It will posted soon as 02/04/07 podcast. It was so dead-on to the thoughts placed in my head this morning waiting, how I woke up, listenin'-receivin'-writin' as I promised to do, I just have to post it. It just proves the universal powers are workin' hard today for us all to spread seeds and bear fruit, the entire world over, doing so from the inside-out.
Out to the garden now. You, too.
~ peace, and enjoy ~
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