One of the mysteries found at Mama’s house was this old, blue music box. It was on Daddy’s side of their closet. Mama does not remember it, but dementia has erased things.
It is a swiss music box by Thorens.
It has a well-worn cover. It is small like for a male or for travel.
The music is lovely. I have played its tune over and over.
Its lovely notes have been soothing to me.
Becca
There is a hypertufa pot under this creeping fig tangle.
The Blue Spruce sedum cannot get what it needs to thrive because it has been covered over by an agressive plant.
Entangled, smothered and trapped. Over-taken by a bigger, stronger bully.
It will take some work to break this pot free, but it can be done… It must be done.
We all have a right to sunshine and rain, no matter how small or weak.
FLOW
I love to stumble upon places to learn.
I went for a walk on the Boone Greenway and discovered a wetland created in the middle for teaching about nature and controlling the mosquito population.
This jewel was created in a low spot next to a stream to control runoff.
I recognized many wetland natives and spotted two deer living right in the midst of folks out walking.
This type of thing makes me very happy. The more people learn about nature the more they will appreciate and respect it.
Way to go Boone, NC!
FLOW on the go.
It seems as though the garden celebrates its survival through the summer in September. I know if I can just keep plants alive until now that they will experience a second wind. My new Oxblood Lily has shown up to celebrate fall.
I am glad that I am home to enjoy this last little splurge of garden flowers.
The blue ginger has finally settled in after years of struggle. It bloomed last year but is much healthier now.
The Life Saver plant, Huernia zebrina, is putting out many blooms and buds.
Even the Night Blooming Cereus is budding one last time.
The dahlias are blooming as well. I am glad they survived another summer of neglect.
I guess all living things breathe a sigh of relief as cooler and wetter weather moves in. I am glad to be home for a bit.
FLOW in fall
I love my flowers for their colors and forms. Some of them remind me of other things that I love.
This hibiscus reminds me of the orange sherbet that my grandmother would serve. There was orange or light green and sometimes a mix of orange, green and yellow. It was very cold so I would swirl it around in my bowl to make it soft and creamy.
When I look at this hybridized orange hibiscus, I see a bowl of swirled sherbet.
Sweet
FLOW
Years ago I made a Key Lime pie for Rose. It is her favorite dessert. Of course I planted some seeds from those little limes. Now the tree is over six feet tall in its giant pot on wheels. It must be hauled inside for the winters.
The tree has made tiny white blooms during the summer for a few years now.
This year is the first time it made limes.
They are tiny even by Key Lime standards. I am hoping they will continue to get larger.
This is what we gardeners live for, our hard work coming to fruition at last.
These limes have been a long time coming.
FLOW
My favorite part of the fair is the poultry exhibit. The barn is full of chickens and roosters.
The roosters took turns crowing. The chickens made sweet little sounds. The turkeys did not gobble.
Each cage had one bird with a cup of water and a cup of feed.
A few cages contained two birds. I guess these were inseparable poultry pairs.
I find the array of feather colors amazing. No wonder women used to adorn their hats with feathers.
The mix of patterns was nature’s art work on display.
There was saw dust everywhere to keep down the poultry odors.
I was glad not to see a rabbit display. I might have had to leave with my own little prize.
FLOW
It is time to start moving things out of mama’s house. It must be cleared and painted then sold.
My sister and I are struggling with this reality as we march toward the inevitable.
I have sorted, packed and polished.
Now it is time to wash the glass. Not fancy, expensive crystal, just lovely little objects of glass.
I am washing these by hand like my mother and grandmothers and great grandmothers did. Standing over a hot sink, hands pruned by the dish water, looking out the window.
Remembering the desserts that were in these bowls and stemmed cups… the colors of jello, the 1-2-3, the pudding and blueberry desert.
We loved the sweet and sparkle at the end of a family meal.
I will keep a set of these for making special little deserts for the children in the family just like they did.
I am honoring my past by washing glass with warm soapy water and tears.
It is time to move things here at mama’s.
FLOW
I am trying to make old things beautiful. I am a caregiver. I want everything at its best.
I believe the possessions of my family deserve respect. They chose these items. They bought them when money and resources were scarce. These are the things they saved and passed on. They have value in many forms, not just monetary value.
I learned this lesson from a strange, little, tarnished spoon.
There is a bowl of mismatched, silverplate, serving pieces at Mama’s house. I have been sorting and polishing all things silver and brass.
Among these utensils was a strange-shaped, blackened spoon. Its design matched nothing else in the bowl. It even had remnants of silver polish dried in its crevices.
Polishing such a faceted piece is hard work. Someone must have decided it wasn’t worth the effort.
I had to rub every bit of it multiple times to see its shine. It was like the sun emerging from a cloud.
That strange, little spoon is a gorgeous work of art. It has a P on the handle for Pearson, my great grandmother’s married name.
I spent a lot of time researching the mark of the maker; a lion on hind legs facing left, holding a snake, standing in a C.
It was made by Frank W. Smith Silver Co. of Gardner, Massachusetts. Its pattern name is Oak.
It is a treasure. I told my sister I fell in love with the spoon and must keep it. It spoke to me, you see.
Be careful while sorting and choosing what you keep. You may miss out on a tarnished treasure.
FLOW
