This is the most beautiful bearded iris I have ever seen. It is also the only hybrid rescued from the vole attack at Enwood, my parents’ former home.
I feel blessed that it survived being eaten, being moved and being transplanted. Its real name is ‘Let’s Dance’ but I will always think of it as Daddy’s Last Iris.
FLOWER
I was surprised by a young dove that was not surprised by me while I was home. I walked with in feet of it before seeing it. It stared at me like I was just another part of the landscape.
The doves had been watching us from up in the carport trusses. They were habituated to people coming and going, so they were not startled by a person passing.
The nest sits on top of an old sled. I wanted this title to be Sledding Doves, but that would be too much of a stretch, even for me.
I climbed Daddy’s sturdy ladder to take a peak at the nest. I was eye-to-eye with the dove when my head poked above the ceiling joists.
The nest was a messy pile of sticks. Just enough form to keep the eggs from rolling away. I read that doves take turns parenting their young, so I do not know which parent was on the sticks.
I am happy when wildlife settles down around my home. These doves were a sweet surprise.
FLOW
What a difference twelve days makes in the garden this time of the year. My busy husband sent me some flower photos this morning. I took similar pictures while I was home in early April. Let’s compare them.
I dug up about half of this Ground Orchid while I was home and filled in the hole with good soil. It has really taken off blooming since then.
The pink Persian Berry is a bully. The blue Ship Shape and deep purple Night Affair hold their own better than more timid growers like Little Much.
I have read that deer do not eat Spiderwort, but something eats the one in the front yard. This one is in the now bunniless, bunny yard. Safe from whatever eats the other one.
Every day is different once plants start growing and blooming. I inspect plants several times each day during spring.
I am happy Mr. Flower and Rose are enjoying our blooms at home. I appreciate seeing my flowers from afar.
FLOWER
My friend Palmer has a gift. Every plant I have ever given him has performed better. He is a tenacious gardener. Palmer has a care schedule in his head. I cannot compete with this plant whisperer.
I made a trip down the mountain just to see his azaleas. Palmer is a zealous azalea artist. Many of his shrubs had to be moved due to road construction at a property line.
He carefully moved dozens of old azaleas and is nursing them back to their prime. Due to this event he had to redesign beds and fill in holes. This is why you may notice a mixing of mature and new shrubs.
Palmer stated that he liked for the various shrubs to mesh together like a painting. This will happen because he trims them by hand carefully to avoid the artificial squatty shapes formed by hedge clippers. Those balls and squares are not natural.
The undisturbed beds have a flow and mixing that is delightful. I especially liked this mixing of light pinks, dark pinks and white.
The trimming to make the front shrub dense is evident here. I need some training Palmer!
I like how the circular beds have a tall centerpiece such as a Flowering Dwarf Crabapple or a small Redbud.
He just got a Okame Flowering Cherry to put as a focal point elsewhere. He keeps a running list of plant wants like I do my grocery list.
I really think the secrets to a show-stopper display are flow, variation and healthy plants.
This yard has taken a lot of thought, planning and work. My friend Lucy, his wife, is the back-up waterer. If you have azaleas, you know how important her role is. I always enjoy visiting these two friends and their yard.
FLOW flew south
I have been wandering and pondering this morning. It is a day that needs balancing.
My mama died on the morning of April 12, 2025. She has been gone a whole year. One Thanksgiving, one Christmas, one birthday and one Easter. I am planting a pink garden on the mountain in her memory.
I am home now. The site of more loss. Life goes on whether you are paying attention or not. There are things lost whether you are paying attention or not. Many things disappear while you are not looking.
My garden has missed me. My house has missed me. I am okay with that. I do not have the strength nor the stamina to stay here. I must not lose myself.
I toured my gardens with my camera this morning. I took only lovely photos to share, except for one.
This scene you will recognize. These two statues are named Lily and Moss. I have written stories about them. Today, I will let a photo tell the story.
There are many kinds of loss. I miss my well mama, but not the sick suffering one. Her loss was gradual. We lost bits of her long before April 12. Little steps that sometimes went unnoticed. That’s how loss works. It is sneaky.
Are you paying attention?
FLOW
I came home for a few days. I have hauled most of my small plants out of my workshop. I cannot budge the big ones. Mr. Flower will have to assist.
I hate to admit that my heart no longer loves them like it used to. I feel their need pulling me down. Thank goodness I have given about 2/3 of my collection away.
I did some weeding and trimming today. I also took photos of my garden. Here are a few.
This huge azalea must be protected by fence. Any sprout that sticks out is eaten twig and all my the herd of fifteen deer.
This gentle iris was surrounded and strangled by some bullies, especially pink Persian Berry. It has thrived on this bank in isolation.
Rose and I spotted a visitor as we sat in the swing. Our friend the fox trotted across the yard and headed up into the woods. I was thrilled to see it looking so healthy.
My iris bed has two types blooming now. Persian Berry and Thunder Echo.
I am glad to be home, but next time I come, I will have my assistant joining me. Seeing so much to do and not being able to do it was frustrating.
FLOW and the fox
I made the decision to stop writing the book I have been working on for two years. The threads of storyline that I started out with have been twisted and severed. The Pearson Women took on a life of its own and took me down roads I never anticipated.
I have uncovered many surprises and several shocks along the way. I have learned alot about my family history. My research has been the subject of family discussions.
I hit a really rough spot several weeks ago. I spent hours trying to find little details I needed which turned up nothing. I have been hitting dead ends and finding dead sources.
The research about the train wreck that killed my great grandfather in 1959 was the clincher. I won’t visit that dark rabbit hole again.
I have uncovered details about relatives that were not shared for a reason. I believe that sometimes the folks of the past protect the future generations from their sadness by not passing along harmful, painful information.
Maybe someday I will pull out my files and do profiles of each of the characters for my children and realtives to enjoy.
But for now, I am going to be grateful for the good things these people passed down to my generation. I choose to trust their judgement in leaving some things buried in the past.
FLOWER drawing the line.
I have always admired trees. Their shape and their shade are appreciated. There are some trees that I especially love. I remember these as important landmarks. I look for these old friends when I return to those places.
I went back to the picnic spot by the mountain stream yesterday. I took a bag of root chips, water and my camera. I meant to bring a book, but it was left in the kitchen. I go to this place to read. There is spotty phone service and no internet here, so it keeps me form scrolling the horrific events of war and politics. I make myself take breaks between calls and letter writing and posting and sharing…
I wandered around with my memories along the banks of the streams. There have been changes. I will share that later. I was looking for things that have not changed. I need some mooring right now. What could be more steadying than an old, familiar tree?
This was one of the sights I came for…The Tree in the Dale.
It stands in the middle of lovely sloping pastures. From the picnic site, only its crown is visible. It peeks over the hills. Seeing just its top was a comfort. I was not up for a hike to its shade.
I just wanted to put my eyes on this tree that I have loved through time. I keep returning to places of the past. Searching for echoes. Hoping for old threads to attach myself to.
A tree is pretty steady mooring for that.
I am grateful for the tree in the dale.
FLOW
I really needed a visit from my flowers this morning. Mr. Flower knew this. On his one day off, he took the time to tour our yard and photograph my flowers.
I have kept his shadows in the photos to remind me who took these pictures. This is a very sad fifth anniversary for our family. Actually it was worst day of our lives, especially for him and his mom and sis.
On this day he has chosen to send me flowers.That’s what love looks like. The real kind. The long game.
Thank you so much hubby. Enjoy your day at the farm. Hug your sister. Carry on.
Here he is photographing our thirty-six-year-old azaleas. I was young then. I could not decide on a color, so I bought one of each. My first horticultural experiment at the lake.
Grateful
Love FLOWER
floweralley 