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.

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...

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.

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. ~

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!

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 ~