How Does Your Garden Grow?

 

Crow, Cranky Crow...

How does your garden grow?

With silver bells,

...and cockle shells...

And a fluffle of bunnies all in a row.

To make your own bunny planter:

After danger of frost, plant a variety of colorful annuals in a large barrel or planter.

Water every other day, depending on precipitation; fertilize every 7-10 days.

Deadhead perennial blooms as needed (if there are any left).

Such As It Is....

This time of year, I generally post photos of my yard and gardens.

But, as I mentioned to Lauren (Rugs and Pugs), when I went out to take a few photos, I realized how dismal my gardens are this year.

I have lots of excuses of course:  Been busy; got a late start (had planned on not planting hoping to be at the lake...but...); my usual "go-to's" were gone when I did finally go; the Great Rabbit Invasion of Nod; monsoon-type rainfall; etc., etc.

 

But, as has been said, excuses build bridges to nowhere and tunnels to nothingness.

And since I have nothing else blog-worthy to say or show, you're getting a brief tour of my yard...such as it is.

{Calibrachoa}

{Black Velvet Petunias}

{Hydrangea}

{Osteospermum}

{Hydrangeas gone rogue...I can no longer see out of my kitchen window}

{Volunteer calibrachoa and baby's breath on my steps}

{First of the hibiscus beginning to bloom}

{Cornzebo all cleaned up}

{Petunias, osteospermum, and angelonia}

{...and Japanese beetles...LOTS of Japanese beetles...I literally just put this trap out}

And there you have it...such as it is.

Beautiful Things in Humble Places...

The older I get, the more I find myself looking backward, rather than forward.

Remembering...

And, somehow, even harsh memories are softened with the warm glow of time.

While summers growing up found me essentially completely cut-off from everyone but immediate family, the days were full.

Daylight hours (after chores, of course) were most usually spent roaming the fields, pastures and woods of our little 80-acre farm.

Mostly the woods...

The woods I roam these days aren't the familiar woods of my youth but they still hold a measure of magic...and beautiful things.

Look closely...do you see him?

 

My peek-a-boo partner for the day.

A young albino buck....

See the velvet of his newly-sprouted antlers?

We played a good long while but I failed to get great photos...alas, he was much better at the game than I.

Beautiful things in humble places....

Rough Waters

It's been the better part of a year since I've been here to stay.

Much has changed, much never will.

I was apprehensive about what I would find as a tornado had touched down on the other side of the lake about a week and a half prior.

{Boat and lift flipped completely upside down.}

Thankfully, my little island was unscathed.

I have been here a week.

My days have been spent cleaning, making lists, searching for things that are no longer where they were...things that are, simply, no longer anywhere.

More pieces to pick up, more holes to fill.

Inevitably, and sadly, some pieces will never fit back together, some things will never be found, and some holes will never be filled.

The latest (3rd? 4th?) phase of remodeling is relatively complete.

{Yes, I know I promised someone before and after photos...I will do that at some point...}

The next phase(s) won't start until January or later.  I need to catch my breath and see if my heart is still here.

The first few days were difficult.  No television, no phone, no internet.  No overhead fans working, garbage disposal not working, leak in the laundry room, broken front porch light, broken back door, light switches not working, non-functioning clocks, no window screens... Too much activity on the lake, too many fireworks, too much filth, too much to do, too many memories, too many ghosts, too many haunts.

And something of which I cannot yet speak.

But the days were pleasantly warm, and the sun shone.

I caught the swans and their young swimming in the far bay.

That, too, changed, however.  The clouds moved in, the winds quickened and the lake darkened.

There's still rough waters ahead.

Rajah's Ride, Country Sampler and the Weather in Nod

...in no particular order....

But, let's start with Rajah's ride anyway.

In my last post I mentioned that there were a great many things going on in the background of my world that I doubted you would care to read about.

Your comments and responses were so very heart warming.

Many of the things are trivial...many are unpleasant...and most I feel would likely be "TMI."  But several of you asked specifically about Rajah's dryer ride.

Well, here goes.

Rajah has always had an affinity for hanging out in the dryer.

I have been warned (repeatedly) by well-meaning, animal-loving, friends how dangerous this can be.

I know.

After a life full of animals and pets, many years of schooling (including at the school of common sense), and too many years of experience, trust me, I KNOW.

But I NEVER leave clothes in the dryer once the cycle has ended. (On the rare occasion I have forgotten and have, I rewash the clothes and start over due to wrinkling, etc. so it's a torture I'd prefer to avoid.)

And, besides, I'd obviously notice a 20+# cat in there when I put the wet clothes in.

Except I didn't.

 

I had stripped the guest bed and dried things on the line, but one blanket I do in the dryer.

After several loads of washing sheets, pillowcases and protectors, mattress pads, etc., the final load was the blanket.

I tossed in the dryer, turned it on and walked away.

And heard, THUUMP......TTHHUMMP.....THHHHUUUMMP.

Thinking there was something wrong with the dryer, I walked back to the laundry room and shut down the dryer....

THUUUUMMMMPPPPPPP.

...opened the door...

thuuump...umpp....

And out from the wet folds of the blanket - a bit disoriented and even a more bit put out - crawled Rajah.

In my defense, he had not been caught napping in the dryer in a long, long, time but how I did not notice him in there I do not know.

In any event, he does not seem any worse for the wear...and he's forgiven me.

I think.

In other news, I made my (second) annual trip to Country Sampler in Spring Green. (For those unfamiliar with Country Sampler, it has no connection with the magazine publication.  It started as a quilt store and then morphed into a quilting/cross stitch store and has become a destination mecca for many stitchers worldwide.)

I wish I could say the trip was uneventful, but things in my life never quite seem to be "uneventful."  I drive an older vehicle (2016) and the gps in it has never been updated.  (It is a foreign model, and the nearest service dealer is 2-1/2 hrs away.)  What should have been a 3-hr trip ended up taking 4 hrs due to a bridge that was out.

The detour wound me through roads with hairpin turns, sharp drop-offs and absolutely no shoulders to pull over on nor any towns or civilization to speak of, with my gps constantly trying to redirect me back to the way I originally intended on taking because it wasn't picking up the detour.

Gah!

After about 40 minutes, I finally came to a widening in the road with a bar and 3 houses and pulled over hoping to get some reassurance I was heading the right way.

Upon closer inspection, however, the bar had both a "for sale" and a "closed" sign.

And let's just say the houses were a bit too sketchy for even the likes of me to approach even if any of them had looked inhabited...which they didn't.

Worst of all, my phone had absolutely no network down there, so no outgoing calls or internet (including gps via phone) other than 911.

I still had a little over a quarter of a tank of gas and kept going and finally did get there. But seriously???

The time there was thoroughly enjoyable.  We stitched, we shopped, we were serenaded by a very gifted musician playing in the little park area outside the open windows of our rooms above the shop, ate homemade ice cream, and shopped and stitched some more.

The shop, of course, was full to overflowing with temptations and deliciousness -all decked out with a patriotic, summer vibe.

{Yes, I have a twin to this sweet angel girl....}

I did not purchase much...just a few pieces of linen, and some fabric - and a pattern I've wanted for some time.

And a whale...yes, I purchased a whale.

His name is Humphrey, and he will go to live at the lake...eventually.

The trip home was (blessedly) less eventful having received help researching an alternative route.

It wasn't quite as scenic as my original route or the detour but beautiful, nonetheless.  At least there were shoulders to the roads in some places.

So I am home now, playing catch up with all the background noise.

The trip inspired me to drag a few (very few) pieces of my summer/patriotic decor up from the lower level on my bi-daily trips down there to empty the dehumidifier.

{Vintage cross stitch flag}

I have heard in the news and read in posts and comments the severe heat waves many of you are enduring and lack of rain.

I truly wish I could share some of Nod with you.

I am currently wearing two sweatshirts and waiting for the next wave of storms to roll through.

We are in a flood watch right now...some areas due to get up to 4" of rain in 24 hrs. I have had to hook the hose contraption up to my sump pump pipes again - something I typically never have to do once the spring thaw is done.

Plants are drenched and drowning, but I took this photo of my roses-and-wisteria-gone-rogue before the skies opened up.

Wishing relief to those whose who need it.

Early Birds, Red Birds, Strawberries and Peaches....

Although I feel as though I am living inside a whirlwind, there is not much blog-worthy going on here in Nod.  I'm certain no one cares to read about tedious (and endless) paperwork, gravestone selections, appraisals, remodel snafus and delays, legal dilemmas, Rajah's ride in the dryer, or the Great Rabbit Invasion of Nod.

However, on the happy side of the road, I am planning my second annual trip to Country Sampler in Spring Green for an unnecessary stash-enhancement spree a stitching retreat (of sorts) this weekend and wanted to post before leaving as who knows when I will be back to sorts enough to post when I return.

So...onto Early Birds:

After almost a year of having completed the hooking on "Early Bird" (a design by Lori Brechlin of Notforgotten Farm), I finally got it bound.

The photo above is a bit dark, the one below a bit light...so imagine the colors somewhere in between. (The upper and lower background wool is actually a rich dark, blackish, brown, not black as it is showing.) I could not get one that was "just right" as it seems we've entered into the rainy season here.

The photo below shows the colors probably most accurately, although it is lying kittywampus across a chair:

And, red birds:

These cardinals have a nest out front.  Something about their faces make me think they look cranky, but they really are such playful, happy, things.

I've been in a baking/cooking slump.  It seems so depressing cooking/baking the way I am used to and used to do, when there's just me.  (Yes, I know...freeze smaller portions, etc....I do, but it's not the same and just doesn't seem worth the effort.)

Adding to my quandary, like in other aspects of my life I tend to get into ruts.  Sometimes it's salads, other times pasta, etc.  The fad of the week for me is strawberries.

Today's strawberry de jour is strawberry soup:

Although I'm not a particularly huge strawberry fan generally, there are times I could eat this by the gallons. This is one of those times.

Lastly, since I haven't done a book report/review in a while, for those few who are interested, here you go:

Go as a River by Shelley Read...

This is Ms. Read's debut novel and I have no idea what drew me to it, but I am glad I chose it.  The book was inspired by the true events surrounding the destruction of the small town of Iola, Colorado, by the intentional flooding of the Gunnison River.  The protagonist is a resident who struggles to run the (dysfunctional) family household following her mother's untimely death in a tragic accident.

It is a tale of love, prejudice, isolation, and resilience...and learning to go as a river - flowing and moving forward even when dammed.

...and peaches.  Yes, it's about peaches too.  😉🍑

I'm hoping all is well with all of you.

To those of you who faithfully visit and comment - and those who even only stop by on occasion - thank you. 

You make my world so very much brighter.

Lest We Forget....

 

Memorial Day...f/k/a Decoration Day is a humbling and solemn day, recognizing and remembering those who died in service.  (Veteran's Day...in November...typically recognizes all those who have served or are now serving in the military, as well as their families.)

The "holiday" was originally initiated to honor the massive casualties of the Civil War.  After becoming embroiled in the conflict of WW1, however, Memorial Day, as it came to be known, the day evolved to honor those who died in all wars.

The above poem, "In Flanders Fields," was written by Lt. Col. John McCrae, a Canadian physician and poet after presiding over the funeral of his friend who died in battle during WWI.

My grandfather, John Peter Paul Clausen (yes, that's all one person), did not die in war, but he did serve in WWI.  I never met either of my paternal grandparents, my grandfather having died at 43 in a tragic accident and my grandmother, Emma, at age 44.

   He looks no more than a child as did/do so many.

I did not make it to the cemeteries today as the rain moved in quicker than anticipated (Camelot it's not), but I will go tomorrow.

I hope amid the "holiday" celebrations, there is time to remember and reflect.

Little Joys

It's Mother's Day.  

I know everyone's circumstances are different.

Some are celebrating with, or celebrated by, their families.

Others are alone or grieving.

Yet for others it is just another Sunday.

Whatever your inner world view is at this point in time, I'm sharing some little joys of mine on this day.

Look close...a baby robin peeks out of its nest outside my kitchen window:

Not exactly a "joy," but they are pretty cute...and put an end to my trying to live trap the critters:

Magic in the night sky:

A gray thatcher singing his heart out:

The thatcher's song:

I wish for you a day of little joys.