Tag Archives: borage

The carpets are fresh and clean.

bees, creativity, home, my garden, , , , , ,

The most encouraging news of the day is, the sun is shining, and the garden is growing. There is already a little Delicata squash on one of the two plants I started from seed in March.

I hired a man to clean about half of my wall-to-wall carpets. Last night and this morning I pushed and hauled furniture around so that I could thoroughly vacuum all the places beforehand. “Kyle” came this morning and was a very conscientious worker with a good deal of experience, and also lots of information for me about the various fibers he’d be cleaning, and how carpets wear, and how stains are removed. He told me that he usually vacuums himself, and was reluctant to skip that step. He asked if I had a good vacuum…? I do, but I let him do that part everywhere again with his machine, for his peace of mind.

Hall carpet just after installation.

I am so happy to have this job done. I don’t have pets, and all the grandchildren have been trained by their parents to remove their shoes in the house, so my rugs get along without frequent shampooing (this is an understatement which I won’t elaborate on); but I had reasons for deciding that this was the time.

While this thorough maintenance was happening over the course of several hours, I cooked up a pot of split pea soup; I roasted eggplant, toasted walnuts and made a batch of quinoa. The flannel bedsheets went into the washer and were replaced with the summer type, and I checked off several other tasks around the house, some of which have been delayed a couple of weeks, and some for months. It’s uncanny how every time I whittle down my to-do list, a few more things break or come due for maintenance.

Checking off the carpet cleaning, which should have been done years ago, felt really good. But — there was a little problem, which immediately added another task to my list. A solution that Kyle used, on a spot barely visible before, reacted with something I evidently used sometime in the past, and left a bleach mark in the middle of my hall. I usually only use water on spots, because they are most often just garden dirt, and I have no memory what it was I put there. Anyway, I will be contacting someone who can patch it, and I’ll have to take a piece from the back of a closet in order to match it. It will probably look fine, and anyway, people are not taking time to notice the carpet when they are walking down the hall. It will give me the pleasure of checking one more thing off the list — yay!

This Sunday we Orthodox will celebrate Pentecost, and I am getting excited thinking about the day. We decorate with greenery of all kinds; in our temple it’s often whole trees that are brought in for the feast, and in some parishes around the world they cover the floor with grass and wildflowers.

Pentecost in Poland

The thought of decorating the church floor takes me back to my new problem of an ugly spot on my floor. It makes me think about how many times I covered a stain on some garment or bath mat, etc, with embroidered flowers. My mind did immediately go in that direction when I saw the small bleached area in the carpet, wondering (very briefly) if there were a comparable fix that I could accomplish in a homey DIY way. It’s not easy to give up doing those creative things, especially when Chesterton’s words linger in my mind: “Thrift is the really romantic thing; economy is more romantic than extravagance… But the thing is true; economy, properly understood, is the more poetic. Thrift is poetic because it is creative….”

See the golden bee curled up in a ball?

I’m so happy that I can still be creative in the kitchen and garden. That is about all the creativity I have time for anymore! The borage (pictured just above) is blooming and the bees are loving it; they don’t mind having to hang upside down to drink. So many things are blooming, but I will just show you one more, the mock orange. Two bushes were planted on either side of my patio so that their scent would drift across the space where one might sit of a spring evening. Alas, spring evenings aren’t conducive to being outdoors in this neighborhood, neither does this particular mock orange have a strong scent; I have to put my nose right in the flower to detect it. So nothing is lost! And the loveliness of these flowers to the eye is great wealth. Thank you, Lord.

Bitter and sweet, and three favorites.

bees, my garden, , , ,
Showy Milkweed with nasturtiums.

It’s been a lovely afternoon in the garden, a day warm enough that my body can relax, and allow my mind to focus and Get Things Done. I planted all my zinnia seeds left over from the last couple of years, everything that remained in six packets. Also two types of sunflowers, and nasturtiums.

Three of my favorite plants have popped up very healthy this spring. I especially appreciate these because they volunteer to sprout on their own, and bloom over a long period. They don’t always grow in the same place, but I figure they know what is best, so I’m trying to be accommodating. The thing is, the spots they choose might feel good to them in winter and spring, but be uncomfortable in our rainless summers.

Mounding nasturtiums, “Cup of Sun.”
Bees love borage.

Nasturtiums used to grow enthusiastically and unbidden out of a crack in the concrete near our pool pump, but that situation is long gone, and I’m forever trying to find another good place for them. Right now a trailing one grows in a pot, a “mounding” type in a planter box, and one in the ground.

Borage is wonderful, the bees adore it, and it grows best in the planter box where it gets regular water. But then it tries to take over…. Two plants came up this spring where they often do, near the fig tree, and I am hoping that this summer I can give them a squirt more often, and help them to survive. I usually have the hose right there for filling the fountain.

My friend Bella gave me a little feverfew plant a year or two ago, and some leaves freshly cut from the mother plant, with instructions to make a tea with it, to drink and to splash on my face to heal my rosacea. I drank the very bitter tea once; I can’t remember if I did the splashing. That plant loves my garden more than anything, and if I gave it free rein it would take over the whole planter box.

Feverfew

This afternoon I cut it way back, and filled a vase with its daisies, but I left them on the patio because the plant is actually pretty stinky. My fingers are holding on to the bitter taste even after several washings. Feverfew is not one of my favorites, only because of this bitterness — and I do understand that bitter herbs are good for us, but I am content to do without. I don’t know how feverfew might do out of the box in the wider garden; I’ve only ever had it in the one place, where it spreads to become a larger and larger clump. It blooms beautifully over most of the year.

Showy Milkweed in September

The third plant I appreciate is Showy Milkweed, which is native to this area of California. I guess last summer the wind was blowing strongly to the east when its seeds were flying, because for the first time I have lots of little milkweeds coming up in the nearest planter. I haven’t removed all of them. We’ll see how crowded it gets in there, after the zinnias are going strong — but as they haven’t sprouted yet, it’s all theoretical.

At left are some young Narrow-Leaf Milkweeds, whose seeds also sowed themselves last fall, way across the garden from their usual place.

A sweet planting of flowers I saw this week was not in a garden but at Trader Joe’s: For Mother’s Day they were offering lots of different flower items, and when I saw the African violets in mugs I immediately thought of my godmother and got one for her. I got one for myself, too. To all of you who are mothers or were born of mothers, Happy Mother’s Day! ❤

Singing in the garden.

my garden, , , , , , ,

A finch was singing an exuberant evening song, as I gathered my trowel and gloves and empty plastic pots into the garage, planning to call it a day. It was 7:00, after all. But then I remembered I had wanted to take a picture of the rudbeckia, even though it is far from blooming; it’s huge, and so robust — much bigger than I imagined it would get, when I planted it last fall. I didn’t take its picture after all, but I did notice that my eight butternut squash plants nearby looked a little dry, so I dragged the hose over and gave them all a long drink. The pansies needed deadheading, so I did that as well….

Pineapple Guava

Today was warm enough that I could comfortably spend a few hours in my garden, and the whole time feel that I was floating from one blessed task from another, in my little piece of Paradise. Many of the plans I made in the fall are coming to fruition; the plants that I transplanted to and from the front and back gardens, and the new ones I installed, are thriving and starting to bloom. I am so thankful.

The area by the front door is still somewhat of a hodgepodge, at least while the California poppies and nigella are doing their thing. When they are done it will be a little less crowded, the clary sage (three plants!) will bloom, and that scent will quicken soul and body.

Nigella, Love-in-a-Mist, about to open.
Borage volunteer.

More and more, I realize that with home and garden things, the only one I need to please is myself — and I am trying to be easier to please. Last summer when I asked my old gardening friend to look at my garden with me, I thought she would be be wise about helping me with decisions, as she has known and helped me at various times since we were neighbors, decades ago. But back then we were similarly limited in what we could do with our gardens.

This time I was surprised and disillusioned. She scrutinized and judged my garden according to the principles she goes by in her own garden, which covers a couple of acres, and for which she has a full-time gardener to execute her designs. She told me I need more “white space.” After she went home I thought long and hard about that; I knew that what I really wanted was less white space.

Bugloss is also in the borage family.

This afternoon I planted two of the four tomato plants I bought recently. I am so excited about growing tomatoes again, now that I am using the sunnier front yard for things that need full sun. I also set out into my planter boxes the parsley and basil that looked like one plant each, in 4-inch pots. In the last few years these are so often actually several plants that are growing all crowded together. In this case I separated out eight tiny parsley plants and eleven basil plants! Of course, so tightly packed like that, many of them have minimal root systems, so they don’t usually all survive. I wish I could buy a six-pack instead, but such a thing isn’t to be had.

There are too many things I want to tell about, having to do with my beloved garden. They will have to spill over into another post, soon. I do want to say that I often think about how much my late husband would have liked this garden. I’m pretty sure he would be, or is, very happy that I took out the swimming pool and managed, with a lot of help, to create this special place. My heart is singing — and the olive trees are in bloom.

The sun shines on triads of blue.

my garden, weather, , , , , , , ,
This evening’s view through my kitchen window.

It seemed like most of May was overcast and cold… Oh, I know there were a few sunny hours in there, but I had to turn on the furnace again, and I felt my mood sink. Many days, in the evening just before dusk the clouds would open up and let a few rays through, as the damp marine breeze was blowing in. But at the very end of the month: the sun! the sun! I guess I am a central California girl in my bones.

The penstemon bloomed while the weather was still gray; as soon as there was enough sunlight, I took its picture, from north, south, east and west. Things are really crowded right now by the patio, and the blue-eyed grass is barely peeking out from under that penstemon. I guess the Santa Barbara daisies (erigeron) are not exactly blue, but their lavender tone made me think of this group as layers of blue blossoms:

On the other side of the garden, nigella, salvia and borage definitely make a blue bouquet:

The plum trees got some kind of icky leaf curl on their new growth, from the wet spring I guess. Also, because of the constant rain, we were able to apply a dormant spray only once during the winter. Alejandro came today and cut off all those branches, which were going to get lopped anyway in a couple of weeks, at the solstice.

While he was working, I wandered about like an enchanted queen considering her domain, picking flowers here and there. Though the blues definitely make a splash in the garden right now, they didn’t steal the show from the sweet peas and yarrow in my bouquet. Any day that ends with fresh flowers in the house I count as a success. Garden happiness!