September 24, 2016 - How I got the name for this blog.

Below is the debut column which was printed in the AURORA Magazine, Volume 2, No. 1, in August 1990 by Sunrise Publishing Company out of Cliffside, North Carolina.

It is re-printed here so that you can discover how I got the name of this blog.

Thoughts from Quail Thicket

­­­­­­­­Observations from a country home.

          I, like many romantic women wanted a place like Scarlet O’Hara’s “Tara” when I moved to Rutherford County.  I wanted a southern plantation or big house with pillars and wide porches all around or a long drive lined with azaleas.  But, life is a reality which forced me to settle for an average three bedroom, two bath house.  I thought if I am going to live in a typical house, I could at least give it a name of grandeur.  A name doesn’t cost anything – except imagination.

          I looked to the property to see if a name could be found.  My gaze fell upon a thicket of persimmon and dogwood trees at the back property line.  I imagined what a perfect place to be if I were a quail – quail thicket. It was just that easy.

          I view my quail thicket every time I drive in to my yard.  When I wake it is the first thing I see from my bedroom window, kitchen window, and when I pour my morning coffee. When I am standing at the kitchen sink with my hands in the sudsy dish water, I wash and ponder a thought or two that I shall share with you.

          Often in the early mornings or evenings I stroll my estate to check on the status of every growing thing and not once have I or my dog, Josephine, discovered a quail in that thicket.

          But, the other day I noticed a pair of wild rabbits.  Their ears were lit up a translucent pink from the late afternoon sun shining through them.  Unmoving they listened to my presence.  I didn’t move.  I simply stared back at them afraid my dog would catch their scent.  Not to worry, Josephine must be scent blind, or too spoiled. She wandered past them less than ten feet away and didn’t take notice.  Moments later the pair of rabbits playfully chased each other across the lower lawn past the lombards into the herb patch.  They frolicked down the garden isle into the gladioluses and up past the garden tree were my husband and I often sit. The pair of rabbits hopped to the English garden at the crest of the hill and proceeded to chase and romp and jump on each other among the peonies and iris. They kicked with their hind feet, thump-thump-thump, at each other.  I watched until I lost sight of them in the fading twilight.

          I have always known we have wild rabbits because I have seen their dropping in the asparagus patch.  Usually in the evenings when I am washing dishes I notice them come out of the asparagus patch to munch on fresh clover.  In the spring I take the old lettuce seed and toss it down in the lower thicket hoping some will sprout and grown down there.  I think if I feed them closer to their burrow, my cat and dog will leave them alone, and perhaps they will eat less of my garden.

          But, I always plant ample in my garden for God’s creatures.  There is only my husband and I so I plant one tomato plant for him, one for me, and one for the bunny makes three, I plant a fourth to guard against drought, another because my dog has big feet no doubt and the sixth for the neighbors dogs or kids to knock out.  Those four extra plants are my insurance policy that I will get at least two plants to grow.  And it is funny; I never lose one plant when I plant six, but when I plant two, I lose one. Why is that?

          I have discovered a secret to weeding my vegetable garden.  I have the vegetable patch divided into four, six by twenty foot isles.  One is planted with herbs.  The other three are planted with vegetables.   I always weed the herb garden first; how can I resist? Brushing against the lemon balm, dill, thyme, catnip, and chamomile I could spend hours pulling weeds and cultivating.  The fragrances are so heady and luscious they make me linger until I get every last weed.  When I stand and dust my knees off, I notice how picture perfect and weed-free that one avenue looks and this forces me to go to the other three avenues in turn and match them in weed-freeness.

          Am I an herbalist because I have an herb garden?  I sprinkle diced herbs lavishly on only my salads because I haven’t been unable to sell the virtues of fresh herbs to my husband yet.  With caution my husband inspects his salads by poking a piece of lettuce to peer under it expecting to find herbal experimentation.  Am I an herbalist?  No, I don’t really know what to do with half of what I grow, but they are a fragrant delight of textures.  My orange tiger, tom cat named T.C. always joins me when I weed and he languishes in the catnip. Back and forth his tail snaps sharply until he pounces on me with all four paws in drunken play.

Life was hectic back then and I have forgotten if I wasn’t able to get copy to the Magazine, for future columns or if it wasn’t what they were looking for. But, I was simply charmed my introduction column made it into print.  I have been scouring my archives to see if I had any more columns printed.  If I find them – I will share with you.