Wednesday, April 21, 2010

'to earthward'




that entire giant bush/tree in front of the house is entirely honeysuckle! i thought it was just a honeysuckle vine growing in some sort of privet or crepe myrtle, but flowers are sprouting even on the thick trunk. i've never seen it so big. with minimal research, i think its called a Red Rum Honeysuckle Shrub.

here's what else the internet told me:
"Honeysuckle is for people who live in the past instead of the present. They feel that their best days are behind them and that there is little to look forward to, and as a consequence they prefer to dwell on past happiness (or past misfortunes). In a more minor key, homesickness and nostalgia are also Honeysuckle states."

I was intrigued to find that paragraph; i wanted to leave it at that, let the sad words simmer and set with my head swimming in its own nostalgic and homesick thoughts of kid-summer. but those words actually describe what honeysuckle can be used to cure, according to this homeopathic theory that also includes cures for things like fear of the dark (mimulus), recieving bad news (star of bethlehem) and lack of faith (sweet chestnut). i tend to think the cure has to do a little more with the strong brandy that the herbs are suspended in, but maybe thats just me...

mary mary quite contrary



so here's the front yard garden: onions, lavender, tomatoes, bell peppers, zinnias, and cucumbers. i've planted marigolds between all of the bricks. it looks so dusty and barren; the bright hot sunlight in the pictures seems to suck all of the lushness out of the scene. i guess thats what i get for only using the camera on my phone for all of these photographs.


the leaves are getting bigger and i think the plants are okay. there are a few brown spots on the leaves already though.



the back garden has the corn, more squash, and hot peppers. when it was planted, the corn was no taller than my coffee cup.
its a beautiful clear day today and just 70 degrees. everything outside is glowing green and golden from the sun. the wisteria is finally gone and the thin petals fallen from the vines blanket our sidewalk, yard, and cars. it flutters down like a snow of greyish purple mulch and its impossible to win against, so i'm letting it gently cover and protect the centimeter-tall cilantro. the trees are now thick and green and loud with leaves and when the wind blows the oak sounds like waves at the ocean.

sew day


i've had this stretchy gray fabric with black vines and red flowers on it for years. last tuesday i pulled out my sewing machine and set myself up to the task of finally using it. i was wearing this comfortable plain teal dress and decided to try to make something like it. there wasn't much fabric - maybe 2 yards - so there wasn't much to play with. i did it hastily, but its not so bad. i did manage to raise and gather the neckline like i needed. and of course, keller helped.


Thursday, April 15, 2010

cuatro momentos








patience

the seedlings have finally started developing grown-up leaves. these are leaves that, unlike the rounded baby leaves that first sprout from the ground, actually look like miniature versions of the eventual grown plant. i get excited when they develop because not only does it reassure me that the plant is healthy enough to keep growing, it also reassures me that the tiny seedling i've been nurturing is indeed the plant i want. until the grown-up leaves, i could easily be gently mothering any old weed. tiny cilantro leaves! and tiny squash leaves! oh, and it doesnt hurt that i love tiny things.


Tuesday, April 13, 2010

and if'n it dont rain

i made a watering can because the ones at the store were too plastic and tacky to spend money on. i have my own plastic and tacky stuff for free. so now i can stand on the porch and slide my giant watering can along the railing while it rains on the corn below.




Monday, April 12, 2010

if with only tent





it is so cruel that the weather ever has to be anything other than what its like right now.

lickimal

keller led me around the yard for a while. his favorite part of being outside is flopping and rolling over and over and over on the sidewalk. he's covered in dirt and pollen now. all of his white parts are tan and all of his black parts are yellow. good cat.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Sunday, April 4, 2010

we couldntve destroyed it all


when scarlett was here last saturday we ran some errands. when we climbed out of the car at home we stood wordlessly in the yard for a minute, each of us letting our eyes trail up the low sprawling pecan tree in front of the house. she walked over and tentatively grabbed one of the think vines that swung in a loop from high in the tree, it was heavy and strong and held her weight as she tested it, then climbed to sit in its arc. i grabbed hold of what i could reach above my head. some of them were just as sturdy, some thinner ones broke at my touch. still silent, we both started climbing the tree and testing each vine, pulling them out and to the ground when we could untwine them from the top of the tree with a few successive yanks. finally acknowledging the task we had set ourselves to, i asked if scarlett wanted a pair of gloves. we were in the tree for probably 45 minutes, eventually enlisting the help of long-handled cutters in an effort to free the choking tree's limbs. we tried not to panic later when our arms stung and itched and stayed red around all the scratches we had gotten. but after a couple of hours, generous benadryl cream, and the anxious watching of each others forearms, our skin gradually recovered.

when i dug around in the yard the next day, tilling up ground to plant corn, i ran into more of the vines. they weren't just in the trees - they covered the ground in a dense network of finger-thick roots and vines, stubbornly refusing to unearth when pulled. after hacking it to bits and pulling it out, i worried that my work would be in vain. this stuff grew so fast and covered everything so indiscriminately, nothing i tried to grow would survive.

then a couple of days later buds appeared all over the vines. every 6 inches or so, clusters of fuzzy brown-turning green buds. by the next day, they had bloomed. wisteria!
i still dont know if it will take back over the plot i've tried to reserve for squash and corn and peppers, but at least its pretty. and if for only a few weeks, it smells so wonderful that its absolutely all i ever want to inhale. and at least it wasn't poison ivy.

i think its easter.


keller keeps the seeds company while they hide out in the little plastic incubator. the cosmos are a few inches tall and the basil is coming up too. outside, the zinnias are poking little green heads up. a centimeter tall army of little green dots.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

stealing daffodils

we dug up daffodils from land that seemed abandoned. you could just slip the shovel under their roots and grab them by the handful. the plants stuck together with big clumps of rust colored clay that bound their bulbs. they were easy to find - their healthy green leaves shone in the field of what was mostly brown brush, rotting leaves, and some bricks from a fallen chimney. the wood of whatever house stood there was long ago hauled off or deteriorated away. i wandered around. under a crunchy mound of died-back kudzu i found the fat iron body of a wood burning stove. we filled our big plastic tubs with as many daffodils as we were willing to haul back. i was wondering how heavy we had made those tubs when we found the land wasn't as abandoned as it seemed. a man drove up. then got out and came over to us. we got yelled at for a while about Property and Ownership and about Tresspassing.
in the end, he apologized for the threats and all the yelling. and we got more daffodils than i know what to do with.