The Shed Saga

I got a wonderful buy on a garden shed,with many pieces and neatly taped into a flat box.

My son the Nomad Carpenter was around and he volunteered to assemble this beautiful object.

Well.

It's the old case of someone writing the directions in ancient Sanskrit, then finding someone to translate it into English.

The sketch clearly indicated that the door would go in the narrow end. Wrong, oh so terribly wrong.

First, Nomad smartly built a sturdy floor.


Then he had to deal with the instructions.

Finally the unhelpful plans were tossed and Nomad assembled the shed the way a non-Sanskrit reading person would do it and now we have come this far.

True, the sliding doors are not quite into place but there was a unanimous feeling that we should go indoors and see about creating a voodoo doll.
I know I'll love my shed.
It will just take a while.

Recycling Can Be An Addiction

When we were were all getting married, my friends lusted for their first piece of French- polished furniture while I prowled second-hand shops searching for battered pieces of oak, in fact anything that looked as though it had some history behind it.

That became the story of my life.

Those were heady days when my kids could be persuaded to cart home cast-offs I'd previously spotted on garbage day.

Now that I'm on my own I can spring out of the car, load the road-side reject and drive on without so much as a blush.

I found "the grotto " years ago and thought I'd use it as the indoor pond it was supposed to be until I installed a pump and discovered the leak. Then it went into the garden where It's stuffed with parsley and vines. It has been through many moves with me, the ugly lovable old beast.

Recently my garbage foraging landed me this old mirror; a bit of glue and paint and now it's hanging on the deck, pleased to be of use.

Next I'll work on the old eight- foot paint-splattered wooden ladder I recently carted home.Soon this ugly tall duckling will turn into something rather graceful. I'm just waiting for inspiration.

My Rose -Colored World

This piece of colored glass began its life as a farm-house window.

Now it's my turn to see the world through its eyes.

The Berm

It's a daily miracle to me that those little seeds I planted so casually eventually produce amazing results.
This is the berm where I planted the vines.



Everything is like a beautiful still life.

How I spent My Summer Vacation

This is my favorite nine-year old granddaughter, Sweet Pea. Actually she is my only nine-year old granddaughter.

Her mother is a firm believer in surrounding the child with books and art work materials and then the child's imagination can do the rest on a slow day.

She has her own cleverly constructed work desk in the living room created from the base of an old treadle sewing machine. Recently she spent a day reorganizing it with paper bags full of crayons, markers and what have you carefully labelled and taped around the sides.

Now she is occupied with creating little animal toys and soon everyone she knows will be a lucky recipient of one.

Next she has her eye on making a wardrobe for her senile cat, who can be seen sitting beside her.

You go girl!

Garden Happenings

I love the look of the clematis when the blooms turn into spun sugar globes.

The berm is lush with squash and other vines and it's a great place to contain those long tendrils. I took the shot from the rose-covered gateway.

The pond lilies continue to delight. I used to store them inside each winter until I finally caught on to their resilience and now they hunker down in the pond under the snow and ice.

The Lure of the Garden Tour

Summer isn't complete for me unless I get a few hits of garden tours.
I especially love the small properties managed by one or two people and I can see that it's a bonus if one of them likes to dig and doesn't question the reason for the digging.

And I love a sense of humor as in this outdoor bedroom, complete with window and quilt-covered iron bed.

This next property was quite large but maintained without outside help.

They have in front of them a view of the meadow and gold course, far enough away to avoid imminent concussion from a transient golf ball.


And at the back, they have carved out a swath of shade-loving plants, backed by seemingly in penetrable woods.


The weather was perfect for the day so we really lucked out.

Where's My Mom?

What's not to love about a mourning dove?

This little guy was obviously lost and spent the day on my front porch.

Finally he figured out how to get off the porch and I'm going to believe he found his way home.

Good luck, little guy.

Weeding Day

I've put off weeding for a month on the grounds that-- and you can take your pick- it's too hot, it might rain, it's too hot, I'd rather read.
Anyway, it took a couple of days to finish this one bed but it does look tidy now.
I love Tiger Lilies; just plant one and the next thing you know you have a full house.

A Black eyed Susan can withstand anything the weather dishes out and still look like the Belle of the Ball.

Water lilies are so perfect they look artificial, bless their hearts.

I've never been able to over-winter a tuberous begonia bulb so I start fresh in the spring. They're just so elegant.

The real frogs abandoned the pond after (or perhaps during) the spring rock slide, so that leaves Minnie, who remains steadfast.

A Day In La-La Land

We finally managed our first-of-the-season garden tour, in a town about thirty miles away.

The weather was glorious and we were giddy with the anticipation of soaking in the sight of beautiful gardens and we'd come home refreshed and inspired.

It turned out to be a bizarre time.

We were given a map detailing each garden location, and I suspect the map was drawn by someone who suffered serious cognitive damage during the undertaking. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Eventually we discovered through trial and error that if we reversed the map directions we could find some of the gardens.

At one place, we were distracted by a man standing shirtless in his front yard with the biggest, I mean super-huge belly I have ever had the bad fortune to witness first-hand.

But the property was worse. The first thing we saw was, smack in the front, an extremely dead, almost fossilized, shrub. We figured the action was around the back (please god) but what we found there was a tiny vegetable garden huddled in a regimented row against the garage wall.

I think the map maker was feeling vengeful.

Most of the properties were beautiful, planned by people with wit and imagination and they were a delight.

It's just that we had to work pretty hard to find them.



One farm was enchanting, made even more so by the wedding party that arrived when we did. Apparently this is a place where wedding photos are taken for the beautiful background. We just found it a touch unnerving, as though we had stumbled in uninvited and we weren't dressed for the occasion.

The absolute worst property search was worth the aggravation. I swear that we drove forty minutes before we stumbled upon our destination, with an apologetic hostess waiting for us. She had received a tirade from each of the few pilgrims who found her home. This was a dairy farm and the owner had carved out a beautiful no-time-for-vacation garden and it was a joy to see.

Better still, she showed us a short-cut back to town that took ten minutes. Too bad the map maker didn't know about it.



Garden tours are heavenly, even nutty ones like this one and we look forward to the next one. Let's hope the map- maker is in a good mood.

After The Rain

I took this shot of the glass-topped table during the rain. Do you see the doll head effect?



Buddha is keeping a tight watch over the fish and so far he has kept all marauders away.


The six-foot hollyhocks are bursting out now.



Everything is tightly packed in here to provide a backdrop for the pond and to leave the weeds no wiggle-room



Okay, I confess--as long as I'm sitting here and writing,I don't have to dead-head the roses.

It's Raining And I'm totally gobsmacked

It's raining. Raining. Let me just roll that word off my tongue--raining.

Enough rain to steam up the over-the-pond mirrors.
It's also soaking my not-yet-unpacked shed but that's okay.

Raining enough to splash onto the deck

Enough to make bubbles on the street

And the rain barrels are full.

Just a brief note to the rain gods--I appreciate that you have ended our long drought and we want to be sure the farmers and amateur gardeners are happy but then you can stop for a bit.
I've noticed that sometimes when we wish for rain we get a full blown tornado or huge winds.
Just keep it simple please.
And thanks.

A House Ruled By Cats

It's not easy writing a blog when I'm obviously not in charge. Max sees to that. He marches back and forth, back and forth in front of the monitor and when he figures my danger level has been reached, he flops down to plot a new game.



So I switch to the sewing room, figuring I'll have a relaxing bout at the machine. Now it's Harry's turn. He'll scootch in as close as he can, snapping that paw out to grab at the cloth as it feeds toward him.



Once they've intruded into all my spaces I go where they can't follow--to the woods. No house cats here. Perhaps a skunk or two but they seem peaceful in comparison.