November 21, 2016 – Point of View in the garden 

          Often just starting out gardeners who come to visit my gardens ask:  “What should I plant first?”

          After many homes and over time I now have the answer.   “You plant for your point of view.”  Of course, they don’t know what I mean, so, I will explain it from my “point of view”.

What do I see from the following locations?

Point of view from the interior of the house:

From the front bedroom the mail box garden,

From the bathroom the raised vegetable gardens,

From the kitchen the driveway garden,

and the patio garden,

and the 4 raised vegetable gardens

and the back lawn sweeping down

to the cluster of Maiden hair grass, etc.

From the day room the front walk garden

and the mail box garden, and

some of the driveway garden.

Point of view leaving the house:

[in sequence]

The patio garden, walk way, and

the driveway garden,

and the front walk garden

and the mail box garden.

Point of view coming home to my house:

[in sequence]

The mail box garden,

then

The front walk garden,

then

The patio walk way,

then

Patio garden,

then

the sweeping back lawn, etc.

AND, LASTLY your neighbor’s point of view:

The mailbox garden,

the front walk garden,

a portion of the driveway garden.

Or, basically, what you see when you drive by your house.

Now, the results of this exercise are as follows:

          You will notice that the mailbox garden and the front walk garden get a lot of view in this exercise. Next is the driveway garden.

My conclusion:

          It is the neighbor’s point of view that needs to be addressed first when you create your gardens only because you see them as much, if not more than your neighbors.

          You plant a special something for YOU to come home to.  When you drive into your yard and park after a long day at work, what do you see first?  That is the garden you will plant first.  It doesn’t have to be an all-out spectacular or earth shattering garden.  You can start with a big pot and fill it with beautiful annuals.  It only has to thrill you.  Start simple.

          Then, you back track to the mailbox garden.  Start simple and then add a little each year to it.  It can be as easy as putting a cut bottom whiskey barrel over the mailbox – the rim pushed to the back so that the mail carrier can get to the mailbox.  Fill the barrel with soil and depending on your rain or your willingness to carry water – plant it with annuals or perennials.

          At my first home where I parked my car, we had a 6-foot light pole near the edge of the driveway at the beginning of the short walk to the house.  I dug out the sod in a 3 foot circle; I turned the soil and planted blue morning glory seeds in the circle.  When the plants came up, I edged the circle with some inexpensive bricks and tied several strands of jute to the top of the light pole and anchored them to the bricks.  

         As the morning glories grew [I watered them and noticed them daily – so they got great care.] I trained them up the jute. I got such pleasure out of them.  It wasn’t long before I was saying “good morning” to my blooming morning glories as I greeted them on the way to driving off to work each day.  That is a good example – simple, inexpensive.  When in full bloom at the height of the season it did have a “WOW” factor as well.  And, it was something I enjoyed way into the fall.

          I suggest you make note or sketch at least a dozen ideas.  If you can’t think of any, ride around neighborhoods and borrow someone else’s ideas or visit the Garden Design Magazine or Horticulture Magazine’s websites and cruise through their ideas.

          My current mailbox garden has evolved over the years and I noticed today that I need to hack a few of the shrubs back or completely cut them out – as they have gotten way too big.  But – it makes a statement – says a Gardener lives here. [Possibly a lazy or busy gardener is what it says at the moment, but, nonetheless – a gardener.]

          Yes, my mailbox garden has been re-worked about every 5 years and it is due to be re-worked again.  Perhaps tomorrow I will give it a go – take a before picture and an after picture and re-work it.  Then, I will share it with you.

          Tomorrow with your morning coffee or tea – take a note of your “point of view” or your potential gardens or your current gardens.  Then make some notes for construction or improvement. As winter settles in, you can take advantage of some great “garden dreaming time” to set into motion your personal point of view in your garden.

         

         

         

November 20, 2016 – The Rosary Beads

          “Aunt Peanuts gave me this to give to you. They were Grandma’s favorite.”  Mom said as she placed an old lace handkerchief bundle into my hands.

          “OH!”  I said excited.  I pulled the bundle open and held up the glistening crystal Rosary Beads for my husband, Mom, and Dad to see.

          “Where did you get those?” demanded my Dad.

          “They were grandmothers.” I answered.

          “I know, I gave them to her.” He answered. Then he added mysteriously,

          “There is a story behind those.” 

          “And” I quizzed.

          “She’s dead now, so I guess I can tell the story. I bought those in a pawn shop in Paris. Mother never knew.”

          We were all silent hoping for more explanation.

          He continued, “I had just gotten to Paris – we were stationed there building up troops before the Battle of the Bulge.  A bunch of us fellas found a nice, warm, dry wine cellar to bivouac in.  We also found some good French Brandy in that cellar which we drank.”  He said chuckling at his memory. 

He continued, “To kill time we played poker - for money.” He nodded his head watching our faces come to our own conclusions.  

“I lost just about all my pay playing cards and I took what I had left and went to a pawn shop to find a gift for Mother.  Those Rosary beads were the only thing I could buy.  I sent them to her before I was moved up to the front.”

He shook his head saying, “I’ve never told anyone till now.”

November 19, 2016 – Murphy’s Law 

          I came in late from work and am still in my uniform. [White starched dress shirt, black bow tie, black vest and black dress pants.]  I re-heat in the microwave some homemade spaghetti sauce which has pieces of Italian sausage in it.

          I am actually too hungry and too tired to take off the white shirt and get into casual clothes for the rest of the evening.  Knowing from experience white shirts and homemade sauce don’t mix; I say to myself, ‘I will be extra careful’.

          I am down to my very last bite and my precious Jasmine, my calico cat, jumps on my lap for kisses.  Well, that last sausage jumped off the spoon and right onto my white shirt.  UGHH - MURPHY’S LAW.

          The damage is done now.  Now, I have no choice, I have to take off the shirt, and work on it with detergent to see if I can’t get the red stains out.

          The label says “No bleach”.  WHAT?  How is that possible as it is a cotton shirt?  Okay, Okay, I work with the kitchen dishwashing detergent.  Nothing happening, I then plaster on some of that pre-wash stick stuff and I will attend to it in the morning.

          Next morning, I wash just the whites and before I toss it in the dryer I check the shirt – WHAT?  The scrubbing and the pre-wash didn’t make a dent in that stain.

          So, can’t wear it as it is and I do have bleach in the house.  I took a touch of bleach with water and dabbed at the stain.  Nothing.  Excuse me. What is in our homemade spaghetti sauce that makes it a permanent dye?

          I mixed more bleach with a bit of water – still nothing.  However, the bleach action on the old toothbrush I am using to scrub is making the toothbrush look clean; I am wondering if I shouldn’t put it back in my medicine cabinet for use; but the diluted bleach won’t touch that stain.

          Next I try straight bleach and hard scrubbing.  It will either ruin the fabric of the shirt or take out the stain.  But, with a stain, I cannot wear the shirt.  I also add a slather of laundry detergent on top of the full strength bleach before it is washed again.

          That irritating beep, beep, beep, alerts me to the wash being done.

          AHH . . . more like it, not only is the stain gone from the front of the shirt, but the slightest ring around the collar has also disappeared. So, why does the manufacturer not want you to use bleach???  I guess they want your shirts to get dingy without using bleach that way you just buy a new one when they get dull?  I guess, built in obsolescence is a possibly.

          I go to toss it in the dryer . . . WHAT?  The overhead light in the mud room suddenly goes out?  I step into the kitchen and find no digital lights showing on coffee pot, stove, or microwave.   Electricity has gone out? A Friday afternoon at 1:00 p.m. on a clear day and the electricity goes out?  Now that is Murphy’s Law again.

          I will have to hang up the shirt to dry instead.

          Next item on my agenda . . . vacuum.  HA HA HA, no electric, no vacuum.

          I guess I will run errands instead.  

          At my favorite dollar store, where I pick up best seller hard back books for $1 along with inexpensive bathroom shower cleaner, I spot a wine glass that has snowflakes and reindeer on it.  It is cute.  I see only one of its kind in the mix of Christmas season wine glasses.  I stroll around the rest of the store looking for more.  Hopefully, there will be a second one in the glassware section.   NOPE.

          So, buy it or not?  Yes or NO?  It’s cute.  I’ve never had a seasonal wine glass and lately, I’ve been having a little bit of red wine with dinner.

          If I don’t buy it and they get more in, by the time I come back, they will be down to just one again . . .  If I buy it, then only I can enjoy the moment. And, when I come looking for another, they will have not re-stocked.  Is it a one-glass "should-I-or-shouldn't-I" moment?  NO – It’s Murphy’s Law again.  That’s thrice in one day.

          I throw caution to the wind and buy the solo glass.  Maybe that will break the cycle of Murphy’s Law.

November 18, 2018 - When they say your first car is your first love - it's true, even if you're a girl.

          On the way home from getting groceries today I followed a 1970 Cutlass Supreme Oldsmobile from the Tri City Mall all the way to the lights on Hudlow Road.  Yes, I fondly remembered spending time waxing with paste wax that wouldn’t wipe clean around the trunk latch and chrome lettering of my first car.

The car I followed had the same white vinyl roof and white interior.  The body was blue; mine had been an aqua marine, the exact color of the ocean off the coast of Nassau.  That shinning, glistening, intoxicating shade of blue that’s green yet is blue.

          I smiled remembering the insurance had my car listed as blue and the registration listed it as green. 

          What a happy time in my life that was, my first car!  I remembered the purr of the 350 V-8 engine, which had such power.  My first car was a symbol of freedom and adult hood and coming of age.  It must sound funny coming from a woman this gushing remembrance of her first car.

          I have compared all my other cars to it and few have come close to ‘drive’ and the satisfaction it gave me.  I could drive myself to work and no longer car pool with my parents.  I could rendezvous anywhere in town for lunch with friends instead of having the choice of only two places within walking distance from work.  I could go shopping, anywhere, anytime, not having to wait on my parents to go on shopping sprees.  I could go out alone not having to depend on a date or a girlfriend in order to have a social life.  Oh the joy of that car!

Since I lived at home I was told in no uncertain terms by Mom and Dad the car I did buy had to meet their approval and be strong enough to hold up to impact.  No convertibles and no sports cars while I was living under their roof.  So the TR-6 I had been eyeing became a pipe dream even though I had enough cash to buy it as well as cover the insurance and registration and sales tax.  But, that was an emphatic NO.

Then I located the Cutlass.  It was a more sensible car, more “substantial” and of course it was $1,000 more.  The dealer even had me fill out a loan application for the balance.  I’d need one of my parents to co-sign a loan because there was a new law on the books in Massachusetts that if you were not 21 years of age and you wanted to make a major purchase such as car, you had 24 or 48 hours to change your mind [even if you were paying cash].  I’d have to have an adult over 21 to co-sign the purchase.  I was 18 at the time and thought it was a strange law.

The dealer said, “Put $100 retainer on the car until your Daddy can approve it.”   I knew better, I would negotiate with Mom to see if she would co-sign it.  That would be a one-in-a-million chance; both of my older brothers bought their first cars with cash and “no loans” was supposed to be the unspoken rule.

So, I worked on Mom and complained, sure the boys can get a cheaper car, because they can “fix it up” – I’m a girl – I don’t know how to “fix up a car”.  My parents took me to the dealer ship and Dad stayed in his car – it was going to be between me and Mom.  

The dealer handed me the keys and said, “Take it for a spin”.  I was shocked at that and walked over and got into the driver’s seat.  Mom got in the passenger seat after she kicked one tire with a smile.  I put the keys in the ignition and my mother reached over touching my hand saying, “No-let’s not.

          She added, “It looks good, no dents, substantial enough, clean interior.” She stopped and added, “Has a radio.”

          I said, “My credit has cleared with GMAC.  The payments are $66.19 a month.  I make $90 take home pay a week, now if you don’t want to co-sign it . . .” my voice trailed off.  I hated to say, I’d have to keep looking for something less expensive.

          “I’ll co-sign it.”  Mom said.

          “There will be no problem; I’ll make all the payments.” I said.

          “You’ll make the payments, or I’ll own the car.”  She smiled at me adding, “Do you suppose this car can find its way to shopping malls?”

          “Yes!” I was excited and surprised Mom would co-sign.  She didn’t even have her driver’s license or even know how to drive.  She co-signed the loan and I could pick it up the next day.

          The day I picked up my car, my mother went for her learner’s permit.  When she got it, she asked me to teach her how to drive.  She was 46 years old and I was going to teach HER to drive.  I think she had ulterior motives.

          Oh, what happy memories of that Cutlass.  I ran the odometer up from 44,000 to over 100,000 miles during my ownership.  I put three mufflers on her, one of which was a birthday present from my Mom.   She was a car I had confidence in and the car was personified as a ‘she’.  She was a lady.  You could punch the accelerator down and pass people who were glued.

          I took my brother Ken out on a straight away to test her out to see how she was on speed.  I had the needle buried way over the speed limit and she didn’t shimmy or shake.  All Ken could say when he leaned over and saw the speed was, “Geez, Sis” and told me to back it off.

          I couldn’t believe I never got a speeding ticket.  “She” had a heater that would melt a quarter inch of ice off the windshield in less than 5 minutes.  When the tires that came with the car wore out, I got steel belted radials. It was like a new sports car; “she” squatted into the corners.  She had no trouble in the New England snow up to six inches.  “She” didn’t handle ice well, no weight in the rear end, which was rectified with a 100 pound cement bound from the Surveyor’s company I worked for.

          That car was my independence from my current boyfriend and it chased my future husband till I caught him.  On Wednesday afternoons I’d drive out to the golf links where my future husband would be playing golf and usually see him on the 3^rd or 4^th hole.  My long hair flying, I would toot and wave at him. It would make our week of telephone romance calls all worth the while.

          That car found shopping malls where Mom and I would “do lunch” in lovely spots on many a Saturday.  It was that car that made my Mom into my best friend.  Sometimes we would shop all day and buy nothing but lunch.

          As I was still living at home, Dad no longer took Mom to and from work.  I’d take Mom to work so we could leave later and Dad would pick Mom up from work.  This gave us time to girl talk in the mornings.

          That car found its way to five-star restaurants all over New England with my future husband.  We’d take it for a ride to the beach in the middle of the winter just to walk on frozen, barren beaches.  That car was my ticket to all the good things that have come my way.

          That first car will always be my first love; the Olds I saw today was in “crème puff” condition, just like mine used to be.

November 17, 2016 -  Sunny day, cold air observations 

          On the way to church two weeks ago my husband pointed to the open view of the sky as we took the hill into town.

          The North Carolina blue sky had tic-tac-toe vapor trails across the sky made by the early morning air traffic from Charlotte and Asheville.

          At the bird feeder which is about one and one  half feet from the kitchen window there are plump titmice holding their ground as the visiting Goldfinch in their dull plumage jockey to take over the feeder.  My hands go idle in the hot soapy water.  

Yes, a grey wool sweater with pearls – very stylish - it is a fashion statement I have stolen from the titmice that are often at my feeder.

Their distinct black and white tail feathers caught my attention and I easily identified them as winter goldfinch.  When we see them in summer plumage we call them “flash bulbs” because their fliting vibrant yellow catches our attention like a paparazzi event.

I strolled down to the inactive raised vegetable garden and got a little surprise.  The single cardoon I planted last spring came through the killing frost as if it hadn’t happened.  It looked lovely with the hoarfrost glistening on the leaves in the morning sun. I made a note to research that plant more.

Then I noticed the winter goldfinch clinging like trapize artists onto the tips of the basil that I let go to seed.  They were very busy eating the seed from the long seed heads.  Even though I was rather close – they were more hungry than afraid.  I didn’t know they liked basil seeds . . . note to self: let all basil go to seed in future for my feathered flash bulbs.

 The gingko tree is spectacular this year.  They say all the leaves drop within a 48 hours period.  Well, not this year for mine, but in previous years their leaves have dropped quickly.

If you have room for a gingko tree in your yard, they are well worth it. They grow slow, are upright and the fall color is really fantastic. Their leaves are unusual – they are fan shaped. Our gingko is planted near a red blaze maple [which is disappointing to me compared to my old fashioned sugar maples] and beside a Lonicera fragrantissima [breath-of-spring], also known as Winter Honeysuckle that makes a 6-8 foot mound.  It blooms in later winter – I will tell you  more about that in a future blog.

When you walk near the gingko tree the fallen yellow leaves create a beautiful gold carpet on top of the dull red maple leaves.  This morning I scuffed around the bush and tree twice – just to admire the contrasting leaves.

Then I heard the honking of the morning flight of the Canadian geese gliding down the valley from the lake on the other side of the hill to the pond down below my house.  Their perfect “V” and their sound I will never tire of.  [I promise to tell you about my first wedding anniversary and the Canadian geese one day in a future blog.]

Have a beautiful fall day!

         

          

November 16, 2016 – “This year start a new tradition. . .”

          That is the voice over of a current TV commercial that seems to be constantly on lately.   

          The TV advertisement shows a family taking their burlap balled Christmas Tree [securely tied to the top of a luxury SUV] out to the country while their neighbors are dragging their cut, dead trees to the curb.   You see a simple flash of a shovel and then you see the Christmas Tree in the winter landscape [it has been magically planted in the frozen tundra] and a small girl is putting an ornament on the magnificent specimen of a tree and says, “See you next year.”

          It got my attention – not to buy the luxury SUV, or to locate a burlap balled Christmas Tree, but to START A NEW TRADITION.

          Yes, that is what I need to do.  I am going to be going into semi-retirement soon and I think I need to cheer myself up monthly as I go into this new phase of life.

          My new tradition is – do something once a month – a seasonal thing – a “grand thing” – that I can repeat for years to come.   Something I will enjoy to the fullest.  I took out a white note tablet and at the top I wrote: Retirement Gifts to US at the top.  Down the left side I wrote the months of the year, starting with November and ending in October – spaced every other line.  

          I tucked that pad under the engagement calendar and went on with life.  Several days later I was cleaning and reviewed the many catalogs that have silly “wish” items.  When I clean to toss, I unfold the pages, to see what I have saved a certain catalog for and usually toss them in the recycle box.

          At that moment on TV the “This year start a new tradition . . .” commercial came on as I got to the bulb catalog. I stopped.   

A vivid memory of many years ago flashed in my mind . . . . .

          Years ago when we went to Europe on a company trip we did several countries and ended up in Holland – the land of tulip bulbs and now that Christmas is coming next month – the land of Amaryllis bulbs.

          I had the opportunity to window shop in several of the large cities on one trip: London, Paris, Brussel’s, Eindhoven, and Amsterdam.   What I noticed in Europe was that people would be coming out of flower shops with a bouquet of fresh cut flowers in one arm and a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine and some fruit in a fish net bag in another hand.  They were on their way home and they had food for their body, but they also stopped to buy fresh flowers - food for their souls.

          It was the first week of December and while my husband and I were window shopping in Amsterdam I found myself in front of a large flower shop window that made me stop in my tracks and just about cause me to press my nose against the window.

          I know you’ve seen those red Amaryllis that flower from a fat bulb at Christmas time here in the big box stores.  They are great fun – always a welcome splash in a dreary winter.   In the middle of a flower shop on a table was a huge glass vase that held at least 4 dozen long stemmed red Amaryllis.  It was as round as a bushel basket.

          The sight took my breath away.  It was one of the last days of our trip and we were camped out in a hotel for another day.  But, I asked my husband to wait a moment, I wanted to go in and look at something.  He peered in the window and certainly did not want to follow me into a flower shop; He hung out in the damp cold and waited on me.

          I walked in to look at this gorgeous sight closer – to experience it.  The stems were slightly magnified by the clear water that they rested in, but the stems were about 24 inches in length and the blossoms were so incredibly fresh.  I walked slowly around the shop and around the table twice just to fix the beautiful sight in my memory bank to draw on in future.  I was looking for a price card and there wasn’t one. I would have been curious how much per stem they were – if they were similar to roses, or perhaps an orchid spray, but I never did find out.

The shop keeper was busy with another customer and I strolled out. I really wasn’t “buying” – “looking” was enough for me.   Over the years I have dreamed of having a dozen or two dozen stems of in-bloom Amaryllis on a table in my home.   It is one of those fantasy dreams, but I don’t live in Holland where such a dream could easily come true.

I had found my item for November . . . .

          I unfolded my “wish” page from the catalog from Van Engelen Inc., a bulb importer.  [The link is below.]  The Amaryllis bulb gift boxes are called “The Art & Soul of Winter.”  Yes, that would be a wonderful respite for the Holidays.  A big pot with three bulbs in it and double blooms to brighten what will most certainly be dreary days to come as the cold weather advances.

          I ordered them last week.  Three fat bulbs of Amaryllis SWEET NYMPH, Double Royal Dutch, Watermelon pink with darker veins, arrived today by UPS. 

          I will plant them this month and will have something to look forward to.  Yes, I like this NEW TRADITION – this is going to be FUN!

https://www.vanengelen.com/flower-bulbs-index/amaryllis/royal-dutch-hybrid-double/amaryllis-sweet-nymph.html

November 15, 2016 – Hoarfrost:  The Blond Assassin

          Last night we finally got our KILLING FROST at this residence.   The new red pansies – are fine [and will winter over], but the Tradescantia pallida [purple heart] are mush this morning.  The purple-hearts were spectacular right up to the end – last night which is surprising since we are in EXTREME DROUGHT in this section of North Carolina.

The above pictured plant is eye-catching purple and makes a great contrast and statement in the mixed herbaceous border.  It is a long-jointed sprawling ground cover plant with succulent stems and pointed leaves.  It is often called purple-heart or purple queen.  It is a member of the family Camelinaceae.   This plant is low growing and likes full sun, yet will tolerate some shade.

          Several years ago I noticed it was surviving in the heat of the summer and during a drought; I put it on my “got to have” list for the next year. The next spring I purchased three 4-inch pots and planted them on the kitchen end of the house which is a difficult location for most plants I have tried there. 

It spreads, it grows, you can yank it back easily and it still keeps coming and looks good.  It is my kind of a TOP PERFORMER in the garden.  I suggest you check it out at your nursery next spring.

          It has surprisingly come back just about every year even though it is listed as Zone 8 to 11 in horticulture guides. [I am in 7b.]

I have successfully propagated it many times. Trust me, anyone, can get it to grow from fresh cuttings as long as it is warm and settled.   One day in early August this year, I broke off a dozen stems, and literally shoved them unceremoniously into some moist potting soil in a 3 gallon plastic nursery pot.  This was located in the dappled shade at the end of the driveway.  I watered them in and they got water every few days for about three weeks and then got NO WATER as we had hit the wall when it came to no rain and an ensuing drought. 

We have a well, we live in the country and when there is a drought and you are on well water – you simply stop watering your gardens. 

We have had hardly any rain for September, October, and now November.  We did get a smattering when Hurricane Matthew blew through and my hydrangeas perked up – but then within a day – they were limp. My clay soil is hard as a kiln-fired brick. My raised vegetable garden beds are like dust.

          I had to get realistic and give up the watering of my various gardens in late August.  I was expecting the traditional September rains to replenish the soil, but NO – not this year. I delayed planting my fall/winter garden waiting on the October rains which did not come.  So, no winter gardens this year.  UGH!

          BUT what surprised me this year - The purple-hearts came through the drought completely unscathed until last night’s killing frost.  I can’t tell you how many times I have stopped and looked at how good the purple-hearts have looked these last 9 to 12 weeks without precious water.  I have been absolutely amazed at this plant.   It must have a camel hump type of water retention system.

       Now that we are at the end of our traditional gardening season - this is a valuable time to make note of what survived with only the moisture from the atmosphere – night dew.

My surprise drought survival list includes:

The chrysanthemums limped through their bloom cycle. I did get color.

The roses surprised me with a few grand blooms in mid-September.

The nasturtiums looked pretty limp the end of August, however, they rebounded with the cooler September and October nights and I actually picked blossoms for Halloween.

The lavender plants still look alive – so far.

The purple coneflowers set seed nicely, and their rosettes look healthy.

The lambs ears [stachy byzntina]  still look fine – you can’t kill them.

And,

The few French marigold plants in one of the raised vegetable gardens have kept on blooming in the drought.   I will know tomorrow if they made it through last night’s frost and a day of sun. 

          I will leave you with a famous poem I enjoyed during my college days about frost:

Apparently with no surprise,

To any happy flower,

The frost beheads it at its play,

In accidental  power.

The blond assassin passes on.

The sun proceeds unmoved,

To measure off another day,

For  an approving God.

                                - Emily Dickinson