pollyanna

Lately I'm glad. Glad, glad, glad. I'm so glad about the sunshine. I could lie in a lounge chair soaking it up all day long. It's just so bright and wonderful. I'm glad about the torrential rainstorms we have once or twice a week. They are drenching and loud and filled with flashes of lightning. Perfect, perfect storms. My flowers are so pleased. These long-legged, tow-headed boys that run through the kitchen at top speed whilst yelling at the tops of their lungs all day long have made me so very glad lately. They are clever and funny and sweet and healthy and just delightful. I am so glad to have found teachers and schools that 'get' them, that help them find their greatness. I am so glad that I can bend in unusual ways and lift heavy things and run really far and feel great when I'm finished, what a lucky, lucky thing. I am so glad to live with and build a life with this perfect man for me. We laugh every day. Lots. I am glad to be surrounded by lovely people. There is this neverending stream of delightful people in my life. People who make me laugh, who have my back, who hold my hand, who support my heart.

Glad, glad, glad.

never get sick of these, too bad for you- thankful

I know. I just posted rose photos last week. But now it's thankful month and I can't, can't, can't leave them out. I love them. Love, love, love them. Every time I see one of my girls blooming my heart lifts and my soul soars. Something about them fills up my insides with bright, shiny goodness. I realize that I have an unusually passionate relationship with all of my flowers, but, oh, the roses. Happy, little sigh.

where mums go to die

Actual crime scene photo

I grow lots of flowers. Lots. Hard flowers, like roses. The roses are huge and flourishing.  My marigolds are the biggest in the block, my tulips the first to show in the spring. I grow six types of herbs in my kitchen window. Other than the pumpkins (which were murdered by maurauding beetles) my garden did quite well and is still producing tomatoes, carrots and peppers. I am good at plants. Except for mums. This is the second mum I have killed this season. Mums are easy. Anyone can keep a mum alive. Not me. Good grief, they're only meant to last for a couple of months anyway. What am I doing wrong? I am anathema to chrysanthemums. So weird.

auld lange syne

Perhaps you are not aware of my feelings on lilacs. I don't talk about them near as often as I opine about my roses, but they are the first flower with which I fell in love. The remind me of dear, old friends who used to bring great big bunches of them to birthday sushi dates. They are the fragrance of spring for me. The first thing I planted when we bought our first house was a lilac but we sold the house before I saw it bloom. It was also the first thing I added to the landscape of this yard. It takes between 3 and 5 years to really get a lilac bush going and they flower sparsely or not at all those first few years. Last year I got one little cluster of blooms and I was thrilled.. This year my lilac is blooming the like the grown-up she almost is and my heart is happy.

(No, I did not steal this photo from some botanical website, I took it my very own self.)

less equals more

I never learn. This I went out with my clippers to do a little spring pruning. Eleven big black garbage bags and three huge bundles later I finished for the day. Needless to say we had to go out to dinner. As always after a good pruning session, my arms look like I am an adolescent cutter. The new neighbor asked whether i enjoy the yard work or whether I consider it a necessary chore. I told him I didn't mind it but that I really did it because I liked what came later, the growing things. In retrospect I think I love the pruning part, the getting rid of the unnecessary, excess part. It's like purging only for the yard and I am all about purging lately. Less stuff=better stuff as demonstrated by my flowerbeds.

all the things that bloom in january

You may have noticed that my posting of resolutions has slowed.

Mmm-hmm. That's because I haven't finished those others yet. Or even gotten to where I'm totally consistent. For example, I had forgotten how really early in the morning 5:30 is and apparently I can turn off my alarm clock without actually becoming conscious. I have only scratched the surface when it comes to my organize /purge initiative,  but the linen closet is truly lovely. I am still tweaking a schedule that gives me time to work on my business every day and still lets me get everything else done.

This is my least favorite part of resolutions. They aren't instant. All the awesome changes I have decided upon take quite a little while to really implement. I realize that it's only 3 weeks into the new year but honestly, I was hoping to be a little farther along by now. Ah, bah. Baby steps, I suppose.

On the bright side, my Amaryllis is blooming like crazy. And last night I dreamt of peonies (the flower dreams are getting a little out of hand, but hey that means flower pics two days in a row).

#7-Stay the course and be patient

flowers who are confused- thankful

For the last several days there has been a peony sitting in a vase on the windowsill, just today she has finally faded. She was not aware that it is November. Her entire family of plants outside continue to bloom, even her purple cousins in the front yard. The roses recovered nicely from their early frosts and have buds preparing to open as I write. The marigolds are blissfully unaware of the fact that they probably should have given up the ghost a month ago, even the impatiens are still going strong in a few places. Bless them for not knowing that it is fall, time for them to drop their leaves and fall asleep for the winter. Bless them for making autumn even more beautiful than usual.

flutterbies-thankful

Saw one of these flitting about my marigolds today. Yes, my marigolds are still thriving. They're good like that. Then I saw a few of her friends. I must admit that there is something about November that had me not expecting to see visiting Monarch butterflies. I was oh, so pleased to have been mistaken. Maybe they'll stay for Christmas.

i don't need therapy, at least, not for this

I have a mysterious neighbor. They are hardly ever at their house. Supposedly they have a cabin somewhere and they spend A LOT of their time there. They also drive two Hummers. Yup, you read that right, two. Otherwise, though, they seem like nice, normal people. When they're around. While fetching my mail the other day a noticed the wife in the front yard and said hello because I am curious about the mystery family and want to get the scoop. No real scoop was attained but while we were chatting, I asked if I could have cuttings of the beautiful roses that were starting to go wild in her yard. She informed me that they were planning to take them out, and if I would come get them, I could have them. I am a sucker for free roses so over the weekend I went trotting down the street with my shovel and Tommy's little red wagon. These roses were planted when the house was built about 15 years ago. That is also possibly the last time they were trimmed, needless to say, they were not easy to remove. Not at all. I broke our shovel in the endeavor, but I succeeded. I brought them home where I spent hours, trimming and splitting the plants. I then spaced them in between my heirloom cuttings, fed watered and fertilized them, because I am a good rose mommy. I ended up with eleven new rose bushes. And now I look like a cutter. Seriously, when I went to the pharmacy today I caught the lady staring at my butchered arms. I have to take my kid to the pediatrician tomorrow and I am planning a pre-emptive explanation so he doesn't call CPS to report my self-mutilation. Maybe next summer, I can bring him a big bunch of roses.

Note-It is very difficult to take photos of your own arms, so you'll have to enjoy this lovely photo of what I hope to have growing along my fence next June and use your imagination to picture my injuries.

rose of ages

We got home on Sunday afternoon. On Monday I planted close to 130 rose cuttings. I brought them back with me from Utah. They were cut, prepared and planted the old-fashioned way. They came from my mother and her friends and neighbors and from Ty's aunts, one of whom lives in his grandmother's house and sent me home with all of Grandma Daniels' favorites. The whole thing leaves me feeling all sorts of nostalgic, having all of these roses from women who loved us the most from the time we were tiny. I never had the pleasure of meeting Ty's grandma before she passed but she and Ty were kindred spirits and now my garden is full of her. She is smiling down on my Kansas garden and my children will grow up surrounded by flowers sent by some of the women in my life who taught me how to love. Hopefully they will feel the all the kind wishes sent their way by those lovely women over the years. It makes my house feel more like home to have all these pieces of family living in the yard. Hopefully they will thrive here as we have.

why i love hawthorne...

...trees, I mean. Because in May they do this...

P.S. These are the first pics I have taken with the very fancy new camera I received for my birthday/Mothers day. I am delighted with how they turned out. I love it already.

manifesto

Dear winter,

You struck a harsh blow today. The loss of all my hydrangeas, daffodils and many of my newly flowering tulips was nothing but devastating. Don't, however, think that this is over. It's not. You may have won the battle, but you will not win the war. Even as I write this, the shelf in my garage is bursting with dahlias, hibiscus, roses and even strawberries. They go into the ground this week. Come June they will be glorious and there will be nothing you can do about it. I will not go quietly into the ice. Just so you know.

Respectfully, Me

poor babies

Sigh.