When is a banana tree like a palm tree?
After hurricane winds.
Zeta was amazing yesterday. I will not share all the mess that must be cleaned up.
Instead, I will share how nature survives by design.
Banana trees have huge leaves and no trunks.
They are held up by water pressure in the non-woody stems.
During storms the big leaves tatter along the veins to let the wind pass through.
Zeta tattered the banana leaves until they look more like palm fronds.
Sometimes to survive the big hits you have make some concessions.
Better tattered and standing than lying on the ground.
I need to remember this lesson from my Mother Nature.
Our strolling down the sidewalks of Bramwell was detoured by a marvelous garden.
There was a row of dahlias shamelessly showing off right there next to the sidewalk.
You couldn’t expect me to waltz right by without stopping to meet them.
Thomas Edison was closest to the gate. I barged in like a blogger gone mad.
There were some show-stoppers that I needed to know the names of for future purchases.
Harold Brown, the pianist and gardener, informed me that these beauties came from Old House Gardens in Ann Harbor, Michigan.
When flowers are involved, the Flower gets a bit brazen.
It is time to harvest your basil.
I have an easy way to dry it after I bake something.
As my oven is baking, I go cut some basil.
I wash it, pat it dry, remove stems and put the leaves in pans on parchment paper.
AFTER the oven is off, I put the pans of basil in it to dry.
I leave them until the oven cools. (sometimes longer)
I place the labeled herb bottle on the stove top to remind me the basil is in there.
The leaves should get brittle and crumbly.
I pulverize these with mortar and pestle.
Pour them back onto parchment to funnel into the labeled bottle.
If I had to set up my dryer, this would never get done. I do some every time I bake in the fall.
Charlotte, the rabbit gets the stems and veggie scraps.
FLOW in Fall
Nature will help me.
I am calm and focused under the sky.
I am happy with my little friends.
The silence is soothing. The sounds are music.
My heart blooms with the flowers and flies with the birds.
Nature will heal me.
It was here before me and will remain when I am gone.
I am a part of something so much bigger.
I am a tiny part. In my place. Being me.
Where I belong in the universe.
It knows me because I know it.
Jean May has gone crazy again.
How can she do what she does?
She’s pushing a million pink petals among her green leaves.
Every year I say she cannot burst out better.
Then she goes and does it again.
Jean May is one crazy Camellia sasanqua!
I am planting blue flowers for the spring in memory of my daddy.
I have faith in the future despite the moody climate.
There will be beautiful blue to greet me when this winter ends.
I look forward to a new beginning. My daddy’s love will be there.
I have put these Muscari azureum bulbs in a protective basket (suet feeder).
Some bulbs seem to disappear here. I also surround bulbs with lava rocks for protection.
Notice the satellite cable encircled with rods and an orange chopstick.
Nothing is safe from my shovel. I mark bulbs with swizzle sticks the color of the future flowers.
Looking forward to a beautiful spring.
Keep the faith.
I am missing several addresses from my Luffa acutangula seeds request list.
John Presteridge? Kevin Kellher? Alley the Homeschooler?
Curtis Wilkinson. Did your vines ever flower? Do you need seeds?
Susan Evans, did your old seeds germinate or should I send more?
Nadine Brissey, how did your vines do?
If you want to privately share address, send to firstname.lastname@example.org.
I will be posting on turning these giant pods into sponges later. Stay tuned.
There was some mysterious activity out on the river last weekend.
A group of boats gathered. All boats had the letters JS and a number on the side.
They seemed to be playing duck-duck-goose in the water.
One or two would take turns zooming around the group.
This went on for quite some time.
During the game, I was able to do laundry, write a blog on bricks and fix tuna salad.
It was a noisy game. I was glad when it ended and they all headed south.
Witnessing another activity that makes me feel old and persnickety.
Say it isn’t so!
I am not sure who is in charge of this charming town, but someone has an eye.
This place has color as well as class.
The first colorful house that caught my eye was blue.
I learned later its name is The Goodwill House after the coalmine owner that had it built.
The third floor has a ballroom.
The Collins House is a lovely mix of butter and olive.
The tallest peak in town is a soothing green. This belongs to the Cooper House.
It has a lovely gated entrance.
Its lawn has two matching fish ponds with frog fountains.
I stuck my camera through a hedge for this shot.
There was even a purple house!
Now that’s my kind of town!
Later we found a brochure for a tour.
If you want to visit beautiful Bramwell, here is the contact information.