This moment…
A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week.
A simple, special, extraordinary moment.
A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Happy Saturday friends!
Who’s In Charge Here Anyway?
Obviously not us…
or this wouldn’t be going on–let me tell you.
Or this.
And I’m pretty darn sure those willow branches are not suppose to be touching the ground.
So the bald kid and I trudged around making little cardboard Barbie tents out of old boxes…
to shelter my newly planted petunias.
And they promptly got buried.
Be brave little flowers.
Just as soon as we humans are in charge again–Spring is certain to come.
Though I can’t prove it.
“What power shall stay the heavens? As well might man stretch forth his puny arm to stop the river in its decreed course, or to turn it up stream, as to hinder the Almighty…”
Ok, ok…I get it.
May Flowers
Nothing like a little color to remind a person that it really, truly is Spring…nearly Summer, in fact. Goofy cold weather has been holding us back from the garden, but we’ve come to the place where if feels like “plant or perish!”
So the bald kid kindly dug up a generous patch of spent dirt, mixed it with some soil booster…
and promptly bought me some flowers. Ooohhh I love that kid. Someone must have raised him right…heh.
To me–pink and purple petunias are pure perfection. Say that 5 times fast, I dare you.
Anyway, we dug a billion little holes for our billion little flowers and filled each space with water. “A five dollar hole for a fifty cent flower” as my mama used to say. We had to work quickly because…
when we looked up to our mountains we saw…
all that coming our way. Lucky for us valley folk that before it reached us…
the snow graciously…turned to rain.
Gracious rain.
Has a lovely ring to it–
don’t you think?
Welcome…
January, the month of new beginnings and cherished memories, beckons. Come, let winter weave her wondrous spell: cold, crisp, woolen-muffler days, long dark evenings of savory suppers, lively conversations, or solitary joys. Outside the temperature drops as the snow falls softly. All of nature is at peace. We should be too. Draw hearthside. This is the month to dream, to look forward to the year ahead and the journey within.
Sarah Ban Breathnach
Amazon Jungle
Something strange is afoot.
Remember the kind, sweet, garden we planted a couple months back?
See? There’s my tiny, little chamomile and my one, solitary petunia growing bravely by the rose bushes.
And remember the polite little peas all growing in a row? And the radishes? Well, never mind about the radishes.
Moving on…
Remember the pumpkins and the watermelon and zucchini and tomatoes?
Well, I do. They were all right here when we left for New York. Yessiree…right here where we put them.
We were told there was an unusual amount of rain while we were gone…
but we were NOT told that some strange creature crept into the garden and planted the entire Yucatan Rain Forest in our back yard. Yeah, that was a surprise.
No lie. We came home…
to this…
and this…
and THIS. What the HECK! How did this happen?!
I’m told that there are likely zucchini the size of sea otters buried in this forest–and I’m gonna find ’em. It may take muscles of steel and possibly sturdier knees than I currently possess, but we have to try.
So, we’re soaking down the jungle and I’m off to buy more gloves… and possibly a machete. For all I know, there could be man-eating pythons out there mingled with the pumpkin. I’ll bring pepper spray.
Do wish me luck…
…I’m going in.
