Category Archives: my garden

May in the Garden

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Husband said the last post was heavy. It was definitely text-heavy. Sorry about that; I’ll try something different. What could be lighter than tiny leaves pushing out of the ground, and flowers in bright colors? Butternut seedlings at left.

 

 

 

 

I love the way the pincushion flowers contrast with the lambs’ ears.

 

 

A week ago– the mini-teepee where we planted Blue Lake Beans. Gus doesn’t look pleased to have his picture taken. Everything is growing so fast–look!

…. cute little bean seedlings just before dusk tonight.
Rhododendron blooms are about to open, above the recumbent campanula.

I should have filled the birdbath before snapping this photo. That’s oregano and lemon balm underneath.

Lamium carries all its own contrasting patterns and colors in itself.

And the next pic is of aloe saponaria, above calendulas and columbines.

 

Spring is bursting out all over!

Joanna and the Beanstalk

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About this time in the last couple of years I was planting seeds of these large pole beans called Painted Lady. It all started one springtime when my friend L. asked me to come to her house and see the puzzling beans that had been growing there after having arrived from she-knew-not-where.

When I saw them, there was new spring growth of runner beans with large leaves and gorgeous flowers, and there were a few pods left on the vines from the previous fall. Inside the pods were large speckled dry beans. I had never seen anything quite like them.

I went home with a few of the beans for seeds, and searched online garden sites for plants that matched the description.

It didn’t take long before I found identifying pictures and information stating that these are the only pole beans with a bi-color flower. They are called Painted Lady after Queen Elizabeth I, who earned that nickname for wearing a lot of makeup. There were sites where one could buy seeds. One woman was selling a packet of five beans for a tidy sum. But I got mine for free! I planted them pretty soon, but it was too late in the season for them to do anything but make a few flowers before they were cut down by the frost.

L. had more beans again that summer, though, and she gave me more, which I planted earlier and more successfully, as you can see by the photos.

Not only did my second planting grow well, but the plants I had started too late the previous year sprouted again–they are perennials! These beans are too good to believe. Who ever heard of a perennial runner bean?

Everything about Painted Ladies is large. The flowers, the leaves, the pods, and the beans. The vines want to grow to the sky. I strung jute twine vertically along the fence, tied loosely at the base of each plant, for them to hang on to as they twisted upwards.

We never solved the mystery of how they got started. The seeds seem a bit large for a bird to drop in, and L.’s neighbors don’t garden. In any case, It felt magic. The fairy-tale seeds grew vigorously and rewarded me with the harvest in the top photo. I wanted to share the bounty and the adventure with my gardening friends, so before I cooked any of my pile I measured a bit more than five beans into packets to give away. I saw too late that I had accidentally named Queen Victoria instead of Queen Elizabeth on the packet. 😦

The beans when cooked have a typically mealy texture, and not a strong flavor. The skins are somewhat chewy. I’ve only used them in soup.

This week the rain or drizzle has been constant, and forcing us to put off planting the garden. I’ve been thinking a lot about how much work there will be when the ground dries out just a bit. But just writing about this happy gift makes me remember the surprises that make me glad to be out there doing my part to be ready for heavenly blessings.

Rocks and Stones

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If any one rock expresses for me the metaphor the Psalmist uses in words like this (Psalm 18): “The LORD is my rock, and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust; my buckler, and the horn of my salvation, and my high tower,” it is El Capitan in Yosemite National Park. Contemplation of this edifice over time probably contributed to my love for rock and stone. It may seem odd, or lazy, that I’ve never made the effort to study geology or petrology. All I do is stare at the big rocks and collect some pretty little rocks. The latter are good to put on the soil around succulents and keep the roots warm.

To be truthful, I collect some medium-sized stones as well and haul them down from the mountains on occasion, with the help of stronger and less enthusiastic members of the family. Granite. These are not only reminders of larger hunks of granite, such as El Capitan, but they are very useful in the garden, for beautifying generally, adding another texture and color to contrast with leaves and flowers, or the colors of the cats who sit on them. In some places they also prevent cats from engaging in other less desirable activities.

The Southwest, where we have recently traveled, is a delight to rock lovers, even the ignorant type like me. The stone there is typically redder than in Yosemite. Above is a shot from the Grand Canyon.

But in Monument Valley I was thrilled at aqua blue rock faces gorgeously setting off the mostly red cliffs. As we climbed out of the car and hiked in among giant boulders and hills of rock, I looked forward to taking their pictures.

Unfortunately, we were in the middle of a sandstorm, which made it unsafe to use one’s camera. My companions said, “What are you talking about? There is no blue rock here!” And when I got close to these piles of brilliant color and picked up some of the chips of sandstone, it wasn’t bright at all, but sort of grayish-white.

This photo I risked (above, with a man behind it) shows the bluest rock I saw–as it looks to normal people. I am still puzzled as to what was going on that day. If the rocks were reflecting the blue sky, why didn’t the others see that? Did I have blue sand in my eyes?

In England and Scotland several years ago I collected small stones that wouldn’t weigh me down too much on the return flight. Here is a photo of the first place where I couldn’t help myself, where the chalk cliffs on the southeast coast of England meet the sea. I am the dark shape bending down to hunt and peck along the shore. >>

 

 Also while in England, we visited several stone circles. Just being near these stones and thinking about the people who mysteriously erected them makes me praise God for creating humans with a desire to know the Absolute and numinous, people who are not content to live a life that is merely earthly. History is full of evidence of God’s working in men’s hearts, and I am linked with these people because we have all sought God.

The standing stones above are in Swinside. I much preferred just meandering in the historically rich countryside, soaking up….something, to visiting “museums” full of print-heavy posters that were too much like dull textbooks.

 Stone fences and walls abound in Britain, including portions of the famous Hadrian’s Wall and its forts, leftover from the Romans in the 2nd Century A.D. We liked hiking alongside it for a couple of miles (below).

I started out talking about the greatest, and will end this post with photos of the smallest, the collection of specimens I brought back from Britain–one group from Beachy Head in England, and three gatherings from Scotland. The plain white one from Beachy Head is pure chalk. The black cores of the other white rocks are a kind of obsidian. Beyond that I am pretty ignorant. If you click on one of the photos it will enlarge so you can see the stones more closely. I bet you’re not surprised that I could find a stone embedded with a cross.

Pruning and Cats

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Last year at this time we still had Kitty Zoë. Here she is beautifying the prunings from the cherry plum tree. That tree is the most vigorous grower of anything on the property, which means that my husband has to climb up in the branches and prune it back with a variety of tools. I hate it when he does that; I usually stay in the house and pray.

We had only had Zoë and Gus for a few months when she was hit by a car. Gus then had a personality change and became a wonderful guy. Until that point he had let Zoë be the charming one.
The sad thing is, he has no one to play with anymore, and we don’t get to watch the two of them scampering and scuffling together. I’d kind of like to have a second cat, in hopes of having that experience again. But that’s greedy; Gus does the job of keeping us entertained and making the house a more warm and lively place, now that there are no children here. A baby in the house is the best thing for keeping one’s priorities straight, for slowing a person down. But a cat is second-best.

One last picture of Zoë as she was decorating the Lambs’ Ears. I haven’t been able to catch Gus in the garden, as he is always chasing leaves or butterflies. Say, perhaps I do require another cat to fill that role!