Today was a dream. This garden is an oasis in the city. I wanted to take photos of every rock and plant.
Follow the flower!
Author: Flower Roberts
Garden Bloggers Bloom Day: July 15, 2015
Many garden bloggers send photos of their gardens to http://www.maydreamsgardens.com MayDreamsGardens to be posted as a group.
I had to rush home yesterday and figure out how to do this.
I have my first widget with my face on it!
So, here are the photos that I took of our garden yesterday.
The first photo is one of many lizards around our stone parking area. I call him “The King” because he likes to climb on the stoneshrooms and sun himself while he stands watch over the garden.
I am working on a future post about ferns, so I took photos of the spores on the underside of the frond.
My daughter has a lily and rose garden. This is her newest stargazer, Playtime.
This is my favorite plant. Eucomis/Pineapple lily.
GO visit some gardens around the country at http://www.maydreamsgardens.com Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day
Follow the Flower!
Wordless Wednesday (The lizard can speak for himself.)
Wagon Tales
The kids are grown now. No grandkids in sight. No use keeping this rusty, little Radio Flyer wagon. It’s too small to haul things in. It’s got that big dent in the side. The paint’s half off and it’s rusting away.
It’s one of the racing wagons. My boy and girl used to pull those up to the top of our hill and race down toward the lake, banging into each other as they went. It made me nervous, to see them flying at top speeds toward open water. Just in time, they would whip them aside for one final wreck. I should have put a stop to it, but the screams of joy were worth risk of bumps and bruises.
Once Mermaid Barbie rode shotgun with the girl during a particularly fierce downhill battle. When it was over, the girl realized that Barbie had lost her head. We looked high and low for it. Finally, I bent down and looked under that little wagon. There was Barbie’s head, dangling up under the axle by that long blonde mane. Her head was removed with the help of scissors. It had to be screwed back on, literally.
Babs back on the wagon.
Here are the steps I took in preserving and re-purposing the little Radio Flyer wagon. I did not want to repaint it.
1. Use a wire brush to remove rust.
2. Scrub off rust dust and debris with a scrub brush. Then wash and dry.
3. Drill 12-15 holes in the bottom using a drill bit for metals.(They are black.)
4. Seal the entire wagon with an acrylic sealant appropriate for metals.
5. Place tiles in the bottom for better drainage of planters.
I just had to hold on to that little wagon, since it held so many memories for me.
Serendipitous Surprises
I am working on a “Weeds” post, so I have been taking pictures of all my weeds.
You will love this when it’s done. It has song lyrics.
While I was out lamenting the success of all the pesky weeds,
I also took pictures of lovely plants that I did not plant. At least not on purpose.
Here are some serendipitous surprises.
I’m All Ears
Is there an elephant in the garden room?
An elephant ear that is.
There are many reasons why I love these plants.
I love how their leaves catch the breeze.
It looks like a party with each leaf doing its own dance.
I love how the midrib of the leaf channels water down below,
like a good tropical plant should.
Each leaf has a different color pattern,
even the non-variegated kind.
Their venation is an architectural marvel.
The huge leaf stands out from the stem
like an
umbrella on its handle.
Now that you love them, too.
Let me bend your ear and tell you their secrets.
Their Latin name is Colocasia esculenta.
They grow from Taro corms, not bulbs.
They like water and will even do well
in the shallow edge of a pond.
They must be dug in the fall after the stem freezes and bends over.
If you leave them out for the winter, the parent will turn to pink mush.
Pups may survive and grow from the dead parent corm.
These will come up in June or July.
Friends, Romans, countrymen…
Follow the Flower!
Safe Soil
They have come from a land of shifting sand.
Where people flee across borders to live in tents,
Where battles are fought and drones are flown,
There is no safety or certainty.
The man came first to earn and learn on this safe soil.
He studied the language,
he worked long days,
he filled out forms.
Two years went by. The boy grew older.
Now FINALLY his family is here.
We must celebrate their arrival.
We will have a cook-out,
with cookies and watermelon.
We will make some Jazar Halwa
with ingredients familiar to them, though strange to us
.
Will the flash and bang of our fireworks scare them?
Or will they delight in the sparkling colors
of red, white and blue
On this safe soil.
Happy July 4th
CELEBRATE YOUR FREEDOM.
Follow the Flower!
My Daddy’s Garden
All little girls brag about their fathers, but mine really does have the best garden . Everybody says so.
He draws up a new plan every year on graph paper on the same old clipboard. He keeps all the plans in reverse order on it. There’s over 40 years of plans on that thing, with no two alike.
He gets the same neighbor to plow the garden plot with his tractor every spring. Daddy picks the date carefully. He has all his plants ready to be put in as soon as the ground is broken. He travels to the best sources to get his seedlings and seeds. He buys extra plants to share with other gardeners. I have too many of these, he says. Do you need some?
From the moment those little plants are carefully placed in the ground, they are tended numerous times each day. The tomatoes are suckered, the beans are tied up, the okra is thinned, the soaker-hose is turned on and off, on and off , like the timed feedings of infants.
People from all around come to help with the garden. They know there will be baskets of produce delivered to their doors later in the season. Daddy has to supervise the help. Things must be done a certain way, you see.
Mama and daddy even take produce to church and pass it out after the service from their trunk. Once when they were taking vegetables to their mountain friends, daddy shared some tomatoes with a person in the parking lot. A line formed behind the truck. They thought he was selling those perfect tomatoes. He gave some out to the hungry strangers.
Daddy complained this morning that the squirrels were chewing on the picnic table. This was the “Lunch Bunch” table, where all the neighborhood men gathered each Wednesday in July for tomato sandwiches. Most of these men are in the ground now, but my daddy is still in his garden. That table sits empty , except for the squirrels. I told him that they were just gnawing on the greasy, salty drippings from all those tomato sandwiches. Who can blame them?
Not just the squirrels are busy out back. Mama and daddy buzz around that plot parenting those plants like they are newborn babies. Those things don’t have any choice but to stand up, grow strong and produce. With all that love, how can you not? Right sister?
Follow the Flower!
In Lieu of Flowers
Let the flowers come to the funeral.
We mourners need to see their up-turned, shining faces.
While our heads are bowed out of respect and sadness.
We need them to brighten this darkness.
We need their ribbons and tags.
So that we can read the names of the people moved by his passing.
We need roses and mums, lilies and glads
to add scent to the hushed air.
Let them line up at the altar and surround the tent.
In lieu of chicken and biscuits,
In lieu of casseroles and pound cakes,
In lieu of a check to the church,
SEND IN THE FLOWERS.
To stand like sentries over the plot after the mourners leave,
Making the grave look like a garden.
In memory of my precious cousin Mark Bayzik, who died yesterday.
