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pussy toes
coral charm peony
this yarrow starts yellow then gets rusty
helianthemum
foxglove
going bananas peony – it’s really called that!
Every time I walk the garden looking for new blooms, I think of my Grandma Tess and how she’d ask me to post pictures of our Portland garden blooms. I feel as though we wander the garden together, these days, with her voice telling me what she likes and helping me find those rogue weeds trying to disguise themselves as other foliage. Here’s to you, Grandma!
Tags: Gardening + Nature
A garden to walk in and immensity to dream in–what more could he ask? A few flowers at his feet and above him the stars.
Victor Hugo
Tags: Quoting
All the blooms to greet me yesterday morning and some greens, too. Not every beauty is a blossom. How I love this space and this patch of earth that is ours, no strings, save those attached within our hearts. Sometimes, when the city noise rattles uncomfortably beneath my skin, I ponder leaving for more solitude, more quiet, but then I list all that I love – Palmer Park a quick walk, downtown the same time via car, a little longer on the bike, and all our wonderful neighbors and growing things, I know it isn’t terribly likely. How my heartbeat quickens to witness the lodge pole climbing skyward, leaves in a slow motion unfurling, the coming of green, green, green, and every color of the rainbow. Home.
And how I look as I sit mesmerized, t-shirt, ponytail, no frills. An hour spent gazing. wearing my Grandma glasses, as Greg calls them, because I remind him of her when I wear them. A favorite hat, bought in New Mexico, of course. My best canine companion. And that light!!
Oh, gosh, the pleasure of early morning! The first beams of light and bird song. Last year’s planning and planting is really making itself apparent. Every one is bigger and mostly thriving, though the bomb cyclone did have its casualties. I will be replanting milk weeds, mostly, and every bud on our witch hazel froze, which translates to no flowers, no lovely spicy scent! I did wonder if it was even alive after that beating, but the leaves are coming out, so huzzah! It can always be worse.
We really seem to be on top of the weed situation this year – always so many – which feels wonderful and easy compared to our first two. Did I mention how much work that was? HA! So very, very much. We still have big plans, building an arbor, a raised bed for sunflowers, adding more mulch and gravel now that it’s settled, more shrubs and flowers and trees. It goes and grows.
How wonderful it all is, too, and made better by the fact that there is time to enjoy it, sipping and squinting with our girl.
Last weekend’s surprise snow. Greg and I and our weekend guest and very dear friend Jeff cozy at the dining room table, playing a game, as we always do. It lasted long enough to take the requisite photo of Pike’s Peak looking dreamy.
I didn’t used to have a favorite season, each bringing their own sense of beauty and wonder. After returning to Colorado spoiled by sixteen green Portland winters, I now declare it is SPRING. Winters here, and in Pennsylvania, are no greater in length, and certainly warmer than the bone chill of Pacific Northwest rain, but feel longer for the noticeable absence of color. There are some evergreens, yes, and the dazzling azure of sky, but the ground and bare trees and hundred feet of fence are so very brown. I know it is partially the fact that our garden is so young, with trees only starting what I hope to be long lives. But, still.
So when the tiny bud of that pasque flower pushed from the soil, my heart leapt, for there is only more and more and more to come. The orange and pink of tulip, yellow of daffodil, purple of hyacinth, to the peonies and red birds in a tree of summer and poppies of fall. That verdant quilt dotted with the rainbow.
Forty-seven!
Fun with a new torch. I made rice crispy treats with homemade marshmallows, topped them with a bit of the fluff, and then flame roasted them. Our little cousins said they were beautiful and the best thing ever. SO soft!
