Mindless Meandering

Counting my blessings this evening. 

Gifted Hands

This hand belongs to Wilma.  She hybridizes daylilies

and helps her husband Dennis tend the hundreds of daylily varieties on their farm..

In the off-season she quilts - beautiful, bold quilts full of pattern and color.

She is a doting grandmother.

This hand belongs to Dennis, Wilma's husband. 

After retiring from his work in a printshop,

he began to grow daylilies, hundred and hundreds of them.

He grows hosta too.

He never stops working.

He carves in the offseason - beauiful Santas, Spirit in the Wood figures,

and a whimsical totem pole he placed in the garden.

Together they live and work on a 30 acre slice of heaven smack dab

in the middle between Bainbridge and Greenfield.

I got to know Dennis and Wilma when I stopped at their garden

on my Americana route to the outlet mall.

By Americana route,

I mean the off-the-beaten path way,

 the scenic route,

the anti-highway, countryside route.

I've been stopping there ever since

to add to my collection of hosta and daylilies

and to visit with my frirends.

Hostas for sale.

A bridge Dennis built across his pond

from a crooked tree he felled on the farm.

Wilma's first garden, wich she plans to renovate soon.

It is a beautiful, spirited plot.

I'm sure the new creation will be even more lovely

Each daylily bed is laid out with a letter

then each row is numbered. 

There are six or seven daylilives in each row. 

You choose your daylily, noting its location in the garden.

Then Dennis digs up your selection,

places it gently into a plastic bag

ties an identification tag around it,

and puts it in the wagon.

Once you've made your selections

you retreat to the shade of a canopy,

where you settle up,

and visit for a while.

In today's fierce100 degree heat,

the canopy was a blessing.

This owl watched over us and the garden from his perch above our heads.

Always another chore to be tackled in the garden.

And in the house.

Several of the hundreds of varieties of daylilies that grace their gardens.

As we sat beneath the canopy,

catching up and talking garden,

the sky began to darken.

The birds which heretofore had been quiet in the heat

began to chirp,

and the mosquitos began to bite.

Wilma told me she thought it would rain today

because the rain birds had called earlier in the day.

Just minutes after I left their farm,

the skies rapidly grew threatening.

The wind rose to a scary level, 

the lightning began to snap,

and much needed rain began to pour from the skies.

It made for a very tedious, frightening journey home,

one spent dodging downed branches,

holding tight to the steering wheel

as the wind buffeted the car.

The time I spend

with these two talented, hardworking, creative, jolly people

makes my day.

Each time I look at the daylilies in my garden

my thoughts turn to my two friends.

It is a blessing to have them in my life.

Summer Exuberance

Take some blooms from the roadsides that dot the outskirts of this little town

Pastels

and bolds alike.

Combine them with some cultivated flowers from the garden . . .

daylily, coreopsis, verbena, cosmos, hydrangea . . .

Throw in some zinnias, nasturtium,strawflowers and whatever

else you come upon in the garden.

Gather some rustic conainers, like canning jars, and some ties, grosgrain

ribbon, raffia and hemp.

With a twist and turn of the hand, voila, a farmer's market inspired

wedding bridal bouquet, simply tied with a green grosgrain ribbon.

The exuberance of the bouquet makes me smile.

A couple more twists and turns yields a centerpiece, as equally exuberant as the bouquet.

A slightly larger arrangement.

The bouquet and centerpieces, posing on the lawn, much like a bride and her wedding party.

And, indoors.

Some ideas I have for a rustic wedding I've agreed to do in a couple of weeks. 

What do you think?

It's a Girl!!!

Time to celebrate

 a new life with family and friends

on a warm June Saturday afternoon.

Presents await.

Good food and sweets for all  . . .

Signs and banners to shout out the news . .

Just a few short weeks until The One and Orion

become parents of a blessed baby girl.

Yippee!!!

The Longest Day

Here I sit, on my blessed North Forty, listening to the last of the birds take to the trees for sleep, watching the fluorescent flit of the fireflies as they rise from the ground for their night dance, on this, the longest day of the year. This is, undoubtedly, my favorite day of the year. 

Dusk is rapidly giving way to night.  The wailing insects have taken on a respectful tone.  The birds have fallen asleep.  The traffic sounds and the whir of the neighbors' air conditioners are all that compete with the blissful silence.  The mid-blue of dusk is giving way to the indigo blue of night.

A certain peace pervades my soul as I let the beauty of the first humid summer night wash over me.  

Tomfoolery and Tomatoes in the Garden

At lunchtime, I went to our Community Garden plot to check out the garden.  After Sunday afternoon's welcome rain, and this morning's little shower, I was anxious to see the garden.  Rain has been scarce this growing season. 

I made my way to our plot, decked out in my regular work clothes and shoes, not realizing just how muddy it was.  At the edge of the garden, I stopped abruptly.

There, curled up beneath the zucchini plant, was a snake, measuring about two feet long.  I beat a rather hasty retreat back to the edge of the garden, to gather my wits, catch my breath, getting muddier by the minute.

I did not scream, nor yell for help.  I sent a text to Mayor and Sis, something to the effect, "There is a snake in the garden.  He is silver and grey, with a flat head, and a red forked tongue."

After regaining my composure, I returned, through the mud, to take a photo of the monster, with my iphone.  I gingerly held out the phone, careful not to encroach on its territory, fearing it would jump at me with that forked red tongue.  I began to wonder, though my heart was still beating at some incredible rate, why the snake's red forked tongue was stuck in the open position.  A little test was in order

Sis had raked all the debris out of the garden, so there were no would be weapons there.  I borrowed a few sticks from the neighbor's garden, which thankfully still contained some debris, to chuck at the unwelcome intruder.  The first throw landed short, but should have alarmed the beast.  No movement.  A second stick landed closer, still no movement.  I began to think the poor thing had crawled into the garden and died with its forked tongue in the open position.  A third stick, further cluttering up Sis' raked garden, brought no movement.



It was at this point, dressed in my work clothes, sinking absymally into into the mud, heart still racing, that I began to suspect someone was having fun with me.  Here is the beast which remains glued to his space this evening.  He looks a little bit fake when viewed from this angle.

Sis answered my text this afternoon, telling me Mayor had seen the snake and thought it was real.  So, why in the world didn't mayor take it out of the garden?  Mayor has remained silent all day, not responding to my text.  I can only assume he was rolling out of his chair laughing, as he read the text about the fricking snake in the garden.

On another note, I suspect we will have ripe tomatoes sometime in October.  Check out this glorious little tomato, still wearing its peach fuzz.. It measures all of a half inch in diameter.

The promise of things to come.  Good enough for me!

The gardens are coming along. Rows of green line each plot. Trellises and stakes stand ready to catch the vine as they grow upward. Diligent gardeners plant, weed, water and tend to their plots.  And, in the little plot we call home, I suspect our little snake will remain glued to his space all summer.  And, I suspect, I will never hear the end of it all.

So, what do you think we should name our little creature?