Category Archives: my garden

She visits her garden… sometimes.

I wish I could be a better gardener, the kind who visits her garden each and every day for at least a few minutes, to pull one weed, or sniff a flower, or pinch aphids. Today I got my hands into the dirt and into the slimy fountain, and accomplished the setting out of these starts I bought a week ago. I checked on my worm bucket and found the worms happy. I picked all the Swiss chard from two mature plants and cooked it up into a recent favorite: Extra Garlicky Chard with Cannellini Beans; this time I threw in some dried tomato bits as well.

The last two weeks have been full to bursting with all the best sorts of non-garden busyness. Two book clubs had discussions in the same week. At a sister parish a baby was baptized, and another baby soon to be born into our parish was showered.

One day I drove to Sacramento and Davis to visit people, and another day I took care of two girls, A&Z, who played house upstairs and down, using all my dress-up collection, every doll and doll blanket and stuffie and pillow, toy animals and Playmobil…. Most of it they dragged over by the (cold) woodstove and set up their house with the two loveseats for beds, and played going-to-sleep.

This all may sound mundane to many of you, but to me it is unusual; never in my family or my children’s families have we birthed two girls in a row in the same household, and when you have mostly boys, or girls five or more years apart, the children play differently. I have been fascinated to watch these little homemakers.

For Valentine’s Day my grandchildren in Colorado sent me a box full of heart cookies that they had baked, redolent of butter and love ❤ They didn’t last long!

One day I spent experimenting with red dye to color eggs for Pascha. As some of you know, because I asked you directly for advice, I offered to take on the project this year for our Orthodox parish, which gives out about 200 red eggs on Pascha night. I wanted to try different dyes, colors of eggs and methods ahead of time so that during Holy Week I would have my plan firmly in mind, and the best dye on hand. I have yet to write up all that I learned so far, but I accomplished my goal that day, and also ended up with quite a few eggs, in various shades of red and pink, to eat in the next week.

I have been doing at least a little bit of my Purging-Organizing Project every day. I took a carload to the thrift store, and keep dumping pounds of papers into the recycling bin. The  more of that I do, the more fun it is.

My church Book Group #2, which I might call the Wednesday Book Group, to distinguish it from our Women’s Book Group, is reading C.S. Lewis’s Space Trilogy, also called the Ransom Trilogy. Though I read it two years ago, or maybe because the story is fairly fresh in my mind, I am really happy to have an excuse to get into it again, and have a really diverse group to discuss it with, too.

There are always so many things I want to write about, regarding my reading and thinking. But less and less do I feel the liberty to spend the necessary time to think that much — so I am considering replacing at least some of my blogging with barking….

How I could muddle those two….

My particular manzanita tree is not bushy, and only briefly ever was, in its youth. It’s always difficult to get a picture of the whole plant; because of its airy form, whatever is growing behind it shows through and you can’t see how beautiful the tree itself is. As I did yesterday, I typically just show parts of it here on my blog. Here is one view from the past:

And here are several other specimens I saw growing in the southern Sierra Nevada:

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As Wikipedia tells us: Manzanita grows in “the chaparral biome of western North America, where they occur from Southern British Columbia and Washington to Oregon, California, Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas in the United States, and throughout Mexico. Manzanitas can live in places with poor soil and little water.”

Back in the 80’s when I lived in another town, my horticulturist neighbor took the lawn out of her front yard and planted sixteen manzanita bushes there next to the driveway. I was mightily impressed. The last time I drove by, they were still looking beautiful, at least to my eye, which is accustomed to those twisty, even artsy lines. I know that some of you will remember when I went to a lot of trouble to get a branch of manzanita installed in a corner of my living room.

This may be the best picture so far.

Yesterday when I briefly referred to my own beloved tree, and then posted two pictures from my neighborhood walk of a dramatically different sort of tree I don’t much care for (Atlas Cedar), I didn’t realize how I was making it easy for my readers to get the wrong idea, and when it relates to my favorite, (whom I named “Margarita”) I could not let it go. My late husband and I planted this tree twenty years ago, and you can see a picture of us working on a path just before installing it in my post Changing Views, which tells its history, and shows many images over the years, including of its unusual peeling bark.

Because of the preference of the 105 species and subspecies of Arctostaphylos for dry summers, I have only gravel and succulents under my tree, and hope that she continues to like it here. I tried again to take pictures this morning, and I will finish off with one. (Those are needles of the Canary Island Pine which continually descend to decorate the manzanita like Christmas ornaments.) I’m thankful to have had an excuse to review Margarita’s history for a while this morning, and to tell you once again about my long time friend.

Moon and manzanita.

My manzanita tree started blooming in January; this always surprises me. It remains sweetly dotted with clusters of pink flowers. Underneath, the sundrops have begun to open, too.

[Update: That’s all I wrote about the manzanita. The tree below is an Atlas Cedar, Cedrus atlantica, native to the Atlas Mountains of Morocco.]

When I took a walk the other morning I passed by this tree (above), and looked more closely than usual. The droopy form doesn’t normally appeal to me, but this time I noticed the scrunchy way the short needles congregated on the branches, and liked that part very much.

Granny Marigold mentioned that tonight was the Snow (Full) Moon. When I saw that on her blog, the sun was still out, so I noted the time of moonrise and set an alarm to remind myself to go look. It was supposed to be “partly cloudy” tonight so maybe I’d see a moon, maybe not…

When I shut the front door behind me, there she was, just rising over my neighbors’ rooftops. I was wearing two wool sweaters, so I stood leaning against my house for a while, because it seemed a shame to say only a brief Hello and go back to closed-in walls. I walked around the front garden a bit. The street light shone down and made sparklelights of the raindrops that remained on the teucrium from today’s earlier downpours.

It occurs to me now that I should have taken a chair out there, so I could have sat a while with the Snow Moon. Though I was all alone, it made me feel close to all my fellow humans who were looking at the moon tonight, or who through the ages have admired her journey up the heavens. The next full moon will be March 7th –I will try to love that one better.

From the Internet

The purples are out.

Cold weather has returned with the sunshine, and the fountain was frozen this morning. I have two little girls here all day making good use of my toys and the playhouse. It’s interesting to see the teamwork of these females in making a home of the playhouse. The typical use that my mostly boy grandchildren make of it revolves around “cooking” with whatever they can find, but my guests requested blankets and pillows and stuffies, and they created a cozy nest. It was cold enough that they needed their puffy jackets, but they asked to go barefoot.

Up at Pippin’s place where the temperatures were a little colder midday, 40 degrees, my grandchildren chose to eat lunch outdoors:

In my garden, the rain and sun combined to bring out — the flowers! Well, a few flowers… the purple, ground-hugging sort so far. But I see some taller iris buds. In February things will start to get exciting!