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Category: Garden

Summer Garden Update

The garden was beautiful this spring, bursting with flowers. But did I take pictures? No. Did I write? No. I was still too busy beating myself up over all the things I had not yet done, and was not doing, to truly celebrate the beauty of all I have accomplished.

That is not really the best place to be, berating oneself for perceived failures. Sometimes my inner voice, that persistent echo of years of early training in the school of “not good enough”, gets the better of me. I know this voice is a false idol, something that attempts to lure me away from what is truly important in life. But sometimes I succumb.

As an antidote of sorts, I am posting pictures of the late June Garden. The June garden lacks the riot of color seen in early spring, and it is more overgrown with weeds, but at least those weeds are green. I am learning to accept that my dreams are far bigger than my energy levels, and, thankfully, Mother Nature will happily fill the gap. Better weeds than dead lifeless soil. What is a weed anyway but an arbitrary designation, a plant that is growing where a human does not want it? Although I have to work to pull them out, those weeds help the soil, help build an ecosystem and haven for smaller creatures, and will eventually become compost.

Two summers ago, the bed to the south and east of the hydrangeas above (two above photos) were empty, mostly home to grassy weeds. There are still some creeping grassy weeds in there, but it is not nearly as big a problem, and more importantly the perennials, which I felt I spent much of last summer just keeping alive, are thriving now. There are even some echinacea, even though rabbits consistently ate them to the ground before they ever grew tall last summer. Apparently a few of them survived long enough to nourish roots. This too gives me hope.

That bed has evolved, some plants I planted there have not thrived and have already been moved, others did better than expected and have led me to rethink the ways I will be expanding and finishing out the beds around the upper circle. That is one of the good things about gardening, as frustrating as it is. Gardens are centering, calming, and also humbling. I am constantly reminded that control itself, as much as I yearn for it, is a myth, a false construct. My garden will show me the way, slow as I might be to absorb its lessons.

This is one of the first beds I planted in the garden after moving back into the house and it remains one of my favorites. There are two narrow beds like this, flanking steps up to the circle lawn. I had envisioned matching beds, but that hasn’t worked quite according to my plan. The beds are similar, balanced, but not symmetrical or mirror-images. The light at the far east end of the two beds is far different from the light on the western end. I have to think about these beds more as a continuum or scale rather than as separate symmetrical static objects.

Progress is also being made on the shady side of the garden, but that tends to be more spotty. Some areas have thrived, others are more hit and miss; once again, a constant learning experience.

The chaste tree (with the purple blossoms) struggled the first 5 years of its life. Planted in 2018, it was battered, tipped over, and twisted by winds in storms. I wondered if it would survive, and then last summer it finally got its bearings and started to thrive, filling out like crazy just as I was giving up hope. The wattle fence around the small front yard, which was, for me, a defining feature, has fallen down. Knoxville has gotten even rainier than when I moved here, and although I’ve been in contact with the man who made it, getting it repaired or replaced has proven problematic. I am pondering alternatives, or if I even need a fence. That is something that is not going to be resolved this year, and inaction itself may prove to be the solution. It seems nothing is ever finished. No, that statement is both correct and incorrect. The goals are always moving, and very often the initially perceived finish line is but a bend in the road, leading us on to new ideas, new realities, new growth.

Much of the back is still wild and wooly, with more weed than garden, although I have made progress there as well. My vegetable garden is inactive this season. Last year I lost it to the bunnies, deer, heat, and inattention as I tried to make progress up front. I’m still thinking about long term plans, and focusing on what I can accomplish more immediately instead. Isn’t this always the way? At some point I felt as if I had hit a wall, and then suddenly one small change and whole new vistas and ideas open up. I am hopeful again, although I am still looking at the garden as part of a 10-year plan. Well, it is always a 10-year plan, even though I started it 5 years ago; why don’t admit it is part of my life plan. As long as I am here, my life and the space I occupy in that life is a work in progress.

There are always more things that I dream of doing than I can do. In fact I it seems I can accomplish merely a fraction of what I plan. That has been the curse of this garden in some ways. I took on a grand plan, and life threw in too many hiccups. My body rebelled. I hoped to do more this past spring, but, this past spring the act of simply standing up straight and moving proved to be bigger challenge. I was, in fact struggling far more than I was willing to admit, and chaos was piling up around me. I’m still working on that, but I’m making progress. I am gaining strength and mobility, which gives me hope and fuels my dreams further. I’m still far too pig-headed to admit defeat. Dreams are good. Plans are good. Hope is even better. The same for accepting limitations. It is not so much what you do, what your are given, or even what happens, either good or bad, that is important in life, but what you make of the life you live. The important thing is who you are, not what you do, although one may well inform the other.

Sometimes the best thing to do is to sit in the garden with a cup of tea or a glass of wine, admiring the garden, admiring the frolicking of birds, squirrels, and even rabbits. When I sit I realize how my failure to keep up to my own plan has created this haven. I glance benignly at the weeds, thinking: “Perhaps I’ll pull you another day”.

July 1, 2025
A Walk Through the Garden

I've spent a lot of time in the garden this spring. Now that summer has officially arrived, it is too hot for me to be out but for the early morning hours. Still I am happy. I had a landscape crew do most of the heavy lifting, but the weeding, watering, and maintenance is all mine, plus ,loving a few things about, here and there.

It all makes me very happy.

I've spent more time sitting outside as well. That is partly because I've been more dedicated to taking care of things, to getting my energy back, perhaps just to the mental shift that requires me to reclaim more of who I was once was. I'm not ready to lose her, but she was embattled and energy lost is hard to reclaim.

Luckily I have a shady oasis in the mornings.

And I've been shifting planters around, brightening my spaces with flowers. That took a little time, and has been a gradual process. I had to add something new, then make sure I put in the time and energy to actually water everything and keep it happy, before adding more. I have failed at this a lot in the past. It has taken a lot of dedication to push myself to build my energy back up, but it was ether push forward or give up. I'm all for pushing.

Plants still need to fill in but now instead of empty spaces and failure, I see hope and promise.

Yes there is still a lot of weeding, but now I feel motivated to keep up. I've a nasty habit of seeing the things I haven't done instead of the things I have accomplished, but this year, I am looking more at the good, and working more to eliminate those nagging doubts, and those creeping stoloniferous weeds.

It is a nice mix of the established beds I put in years ago now, and the new. The promise, and commitment, of trying to keep newly planted things alive. The hope that is ever present, even in the vegetable garden, which I didn't eve really start planting until June, too late really, because I was too occupied elsewhere, but better than not starting it at all.

At least there will be a bumper crop of raspberries.

As well as flowers, and doorways, both new and familiar.

June 21, 2024
Many pictures. Few Words

I continue to feel over-tired, and over-scheduled. My ability to function is somewhat on the fritz this morning, so let's just settle for some pretty pictures.

Flowers are blooming. I love the apricot iris, which was an end-of-season bargain-bin find. It has thrived in this spot and makes me happy every spring.

Garden clean-up and planting has been continuing. It feels like a weight is being lifted. Another section of the wattle fence is down. Several uprights were damaged in windstorms but it has been five years, so I would be due for retagging regardless. I am in the queue for repair. I love the creeping Jenny, which was a self starter (the field of yellow-green seen through the slats of the fence) although I do have to continually cut it off the paving stones.

In fact everything is looking yellow in the evening light. I'm not doing the had work, the digging and planting, but even once the wilds are tamed, I still need to keep the weeds at bay

These flag iris were planted several years ago.

The cranesbill geraniums make me smile all summer long, but in the spring, with the Caesar's brother iris, they are particularly nice.

An ongoing challenge, but the rewards are great.

April 30, 2024
April! Already almost half gone….

Hello. Welcome to my monthly blog post and a brand new peony.

This is the first bloom of a new self-starting peony which appeared in my yard a couple of years ago, slowly growing every spring, disappearing in the heat of late summer, and slowly growing. I have a couple of peonies in places where I never intended them, but they seem so happy in their chosen abodes that I have been loathe to move them.

I think there is a lesson in that.

Just as I think there is a lesson in the way this spring has worked out for me, my general sense of overwhelm, my ongoing tiredness, and ongoing struggles in terms of decisions about who it is I want to be in this moment of my life. I know that sounds strange for a woman who is 65 going on 66, but it seems to me that life is not so much a smooth line but a series of chasms and summits, opportunities for growth or for stasis. I've always been a person who embraces change and yet who also struggles with that very change. The struggle part is not unusual. I, like most of the people I know, embrace comfort, embrace familiarity. And yet I think that change is equally a part of what it means to be human. I am changing. And as I change I become more the person I have always been.

I can't write about what that means yet. I'm too much in the middle of the process.

I can only leave you with another flower. The first of the irises. More will follow.

I too will return.

April 12, 2024
Hello Spring

I did say I would return in March although my intention had always been for early March. Missed that internal deadline, didn't I?

It is no matter, somehow things always play out the best way they can. Or at least that is the view I choose to take on the matter. It is lent after all, and it always seems to me that lent ends up being a period of upheaval and resolution. Sometimes metaphysical, sometimes physical, sometimes, surely, all in my head.

Lent is, in many ways much like spring. Spare and bare still, but with pops of color, pops of hope. Uncertainty abounds: cold nights, warm days, rain, sunshine, sudden frosts, and yet resurrection surrounds us.

And yet it is all a part of the plan, the normal cycle of things. It shouldn't surprise us, and yet it always does.

I was in Texas and Arizona. Lovely visits, both with family.

I returned to a series of unfortunate glitches: some kind of mild allergic reaction thingy on my face, a rheumatoid fare, an encounter with gluten that lead to a celiac flare, more struggles with atrial flutter. All basically minor. All annoying nonetheless.

Like the garden, we muddle through, marshal our resources, cliché-filled, marching ever onward. The camellia is sending out a few precious blooms. It wasn't the January snow that did it in, but the single digit temps so close to its normal bloom time did set it back. What blooms appear are late, a little war-torn, but valiant harbingers of hope.

The vegetable garden continues. A few hot days, have prompted the bok choy to bolt, but the flowers are also delicious. Cabbage, broccoli, bitter Italian greens continue onward. I will never keep up with them all. Broccoli is heading.

I planted fava beans and they were coming up nicely, little green leaves peaking above the soil. The same for peas. And like that, they were gone. Someone ate them all last night. The great legume massacre of 2024. Perhaps there is time to sow another crop. Perhaps best to let it be. Another sign. But there will just be room for other vegetables.

The first of my "late" daffodils are up. Actually a little early. But its the only one so far, although there are lots of buds. There is always someone who leaps out from the crowd.

Anyway, welcome spring. It is a good spring, a good start. Always too much too do. As always it doesn't all get done. And who says it should anyway?

March 13, 2024
The Fall Garden

Oh the joys of autumn flowers and the fading of the garden. A post of photos more than words

The nights are cooling and even though the garden has a distinct autumnal tone, the summer garden has not completely died back, and fall blossoms shine. Coreopsis Summer Sunshine has begun to bloom, showing up consistently in late September and typically continuing well into November.

Also, new to me, pineapple sage looks beautiful next to the garage. Not hardy here, unless we have an unusually mild winter, but I will put in more next year. It is doing much better in this spot than the rosemary that lived her previously.

The second bloom of the sedum. The first was in July.

The roses are happy with the warm, dry days.

And the fall blooming azaleas. I had spring azalea blossoms, but it was not the best year.

Lastly, I am letting the oregano go to seed and am thoroughly enjoying the blossoms on both the oregano beds and the Thai basil (no photograph).

I've done both less than I hoped, and more than in the past, so a good year. I am filled with encouragement and hopes. I suppose one could ask for nothing more.

October 2, 2023
Update

Where have I been? Here of course. I've been doing many things, things seemingly scattered and unconnected, but, when I think about it, this is not really the case. I've been busy living and crafting, and just doing the things that make life fulfilling and meaningful for me. I've been busy but not too busy. Most of all, I have let the unfolding of each day determine the schedule of what needs doing, or not doing, whichever the case may be. I have come to the conclusion that this is the beauty of retirement. I have a roof over my head. I have clothes to cover my body and a bed to sleep in. I have food. Yes, time is required, sometimes more than other, to the acts of preparing, procuring and maintaining, but generally I have reached the enviable place where I need march to no one's drummer but my own.

One thing I have been doing is sitting.

I pulled together this little seating area last week, and I've found myself here often since, coffee, or water, or wine in hand, enjoying a summer breeze and surveying my garden. This came together on a whim. I had gone to Cost Plus World Market to pick up something where I encountered these little chairs on sale. An idea was born.

Previously there had been planters in this corner, planters I kept filled with flowers in the spring, but which had died during the course of my travels in late May. The options are limited as there is little sun, and little access to rainwater. I grew bored with constantly watering the planters considering all they did was sit there, waiting to be noticed whenever I walked too or from the garage. The planters, which I did not like anyway but felt I must use because I had them, have been banished. And now I have a lovely shady place to sit and survey my gardens, and the progress I have made in beating back the jungle of weeds that was threatening to take over after a very wet June and July, and a chief gardener (me), who refused to work outside when the air was filled with smoke or excess humidity.

It is a good place to be.

But surely that is not all. Oh there have been the normal things. I've been cooking. Another sweater is almost finished. There was another baptismal towel for my church, a small amount of progress on needlepoint, some garment mending and alterations. A dress is half-made and another is ready to be cut out.

Mostly however, the organizational bug has bitten, and I have fallen into its clutches.

My friend Marjorie visited and she inspired me to return to the studio, Hence the dress, and a renewed interest in sewing, but also in finally unpacking the yarn stash and finishing up the studio organization. Somehow that manifested itself with the urge to tackle the knitting library and knitting pattern stash. Part of the problem is that I would unpack some yarn that was packaged with some cryptic note like "Anny Blast Sweater #1". But which sweater #1, from which Anny Blast book? I subscribed to them for years. Some of them were cut up and scanned into my computer when I moved here from NY. I did have a database but the program that I used has since been abandoned by the manufacturer and I can't access most of it. It is possible I don't want to make whatever it was anyway, but even so, it would be good to know what pattern options I already own suitable for x yarn of y gauge.

I started with Ravelry's library feature, which I have admittedly underutilized. If I had realized its power, it might have made packing easier even when I moved to Tennessee from New York 12 years ago. But regret only drags the mind through the mire. And having a powerful database already at hand has helped. I still have had to go through my dropbox full of pdf files, and find the appropriate references in Ravelry but it remains faster and easier than building a database from scratch. But I do own books and patterns that are not in Ravelry's index, so I still have to build a supplemental database as well. My Ravelry library currently lists 3287 patterns, and my database, which I am building on Tap Forms, currently contains another 411 patterns. And I am not done. There is a collection of Rowan Magazines and Vogue Knitting Magazines which I have only just begun to index. And yes, I probably could edit some things out. Patterns I have already knit are included. I will not knit thousands of items in the years remaining in my life. But I see no point in eliminating potential ideas until I also unpack ad sort the yarn stash, although admittedly a handful of patterns have been tossed.

Life is a process. I had previously cataloged fabric, and patterns, and the yarn I have already unpacked. These files have already proven their usefulness. This is a big job I have been putting off for years, and it is proving, thanks to Ravelry, to be not quite as onerous as I had feared. As I look at patterns, as I venture into my yarn closet to find my next project, my mind is filled with exciting ideas.

I may be in the latter third of my life (no denying that) but excitement and new beginnings are ongoing.

.

August 2, 2023
What IS This Blog?

The simple answer: a journal, an online journal if you will, not entirely private, but a journal nonetheless.

I realized I had lost something, something important, and it took me a little while, and a bit of soul-searching to figure out what. It seems that the internet, online communities, and social media have all moved on, but I have not. I started this blog, or at least its previous iterations, as a way to keep a record for myself, yes one that I shared, but nonetheless a modified personal journal. At first it was about sewing and knitting and eventually my general observations on life. These were things I could have committed to paper, but I have a history of tossing bits of paper, including journals and sewing notebooks. The internet remains here, although I suppose even it is not permanent.

I don't mind people reading what I write; in fact it even makes me happy to hear from readers. But I remain opposed to the idea of marketing, of packaging my blogs to fill a niche, to catering to the reader. I suppose I reject the idea of the curated life, at least the curated life as it reflects outside expectations. I do curate my life; most of us do to some level or another, but I curate my life for my own joy, and increasingly I feel that outside expectations do nothing but hamper that joy.

I suppose posting to Facebook was my first mistake. Initially, I did so at the request of a friend, so she could access the blog easily. But then it became something else. I was never shy about telling people I knew that I blogged; most of the time my friends thought it was something weird, and if they read my blog, they did not, for the most part tell me so. But once I posted to Facebook, more and more people I knew would comment on my "secret" life, and I found myself wanting to please readers, sometimes at the expense of pleasing myself. I was trained to achieve, to please, to rise to meet expectations, and I find I had not quite fully escaped those shackles. As soon as I began to think I "should" write, the joy in writing slipped away.

For now, I am forgoing Facebook and social media links, but I am still tossing my words out into the world. Anyone who wants to find them can of course, but I am feeling no need to make the process easier. Besides, as I have learned, only 10% of my readers find me through Facebook, but that 10% plays an outside role in triggering my own demons, not through any intention of my readers but just through the medium itself.

So, what have I been doing since last I wrote?

I came home from Texas to an overabundance of sorrel. So there has been some cooking, several kinds of sorrel soup, including a Russian Sorrel broth, and the chard and sorrel soup shown above. I have also made, and frozen a large batch of spring spinach and sorrel soup, which doesn't look much different except that it is a darker green.

I have 12 jars of carrot green pesto, and an equal number of jars of canned carrots.

I missed most of the snow pea harvest while I was in Texas but it looked like the squirrels and birds had a feast. I also planted some purple podded peas and they were still producing in late May. I thought they were spent, but we had a cool snap last week and I got another small flush of peas, which I have thoroughly enjoyed both lightly steamed and in salads.

The blueberry bushes suffered from neglect and did not produce much. I just lost my late crop to something, birds or the bear that was wandering down my street a couple of mornings ago, but it does look like I will have a bumper crop of blackberries again this year. The roses that are intermingled with the blackberries are also doing well, even though I fretted that perhaps they had been killed by a harsh winter frost.

I continue to work intermittently in the garden. Nature is ahead of me but I am doing more work than I have been able to in years. Still not as much as my younger self once managed, but I am comparing myself to what I could accomplish 20 years ago, an unfair comparison. I have done more this year than any previous summer since I moved into this house. And I've finally admitted to myself that I did not lose two summers, but three. My first summer here was the summer I broke my nose on my birthday, the summer I found out I was in atrial flutter, and probably had been for some time. I can only accept that now because although my almost-65 year old energy level is not the same as my 45-year old energy level, it is higher than it has been for some time. And if I am driven less than in former years, it is more because I am less inclined to worry about what anyone else thinks.

The other thrilling thing is that I found a roller frame in my stash of needlework supplies and assembled it to work on the next baptismal towel. It is not quite the size I need, and I don't have any cotton webbing so I had to substitute quilting cotton on the sides in order to pull the fabric taut. As you can see, there are still adjustments to be made to the tensioning before I begin work, but I am excited. I have ordered a roll of cotton webbing. I have a box of various kinds of needlepoint and other frames and I think I need to sort them out to figure out what I have and work from there, but that is progress. I am slowly accumulating a set of embroidery materials and tools and am excited to work. No the above is not perfect. Yet it is an improvement over what I have done in the past. My work keeps improving. I tried something new with the last baptismal towel (seen at the top of this post), and I am increasingly excited about this work.

I might wish I had pursued this interest when I was younger, but I did not, and I have made the best decisions I could at any time of my life. I'll never be a master knitter, or embroiderer, gardener, or chef. Truthfully I never cared to. I just wish to pursue what I enjoy for the pure joy of doing so.

In short. Life is simple. Life is good. What more could I ask?

June 16, 2023
April Flowers

I have a cold, mostly over the worst part of it, but this post will consist of a photo heavy reminder of April (into early May) garden flowers. Or at least the one's I managed to think to photograph.

The daffodils did well, they didn't mind a bit of chill, or a long cool spring.

It has also been a good year for the Irises. The first to bloom were the tiny iris cristata:

Then the iris unguicularis

and their neighbors, the iris techtorum:

The first of the tall bearded iris started blooming about the same time as the first of my peonies. This one is an itoh peony, named Clara Louise.

I have another Clara Louise across the front yard, that gets its sun an hour or so later in the morning, and has perhaps an hour less sun; it blooms about a week later and the flowers are a slightly deeper pink.

The Siberian iris, 'Caesar's Brother' has been blooming, along with the cranesbill geraniums. The oldest plants, bloomed first, but these iris have been blooming for about 3 weeks now and new buds are still opening. This bed is hidden from the street by the wall, but it greets me even time I open my front door. The geraniums will bloom throughout the summer and are guaranteed to make me smile.

The landscape roses have also burst into bloom in the last week. Apricot drift.

and white Meidiland

The second tall bearded iris has opened, this one a deep red. Both of these irises were purchased as dried up and shriveled specimens in an end of season deep discount bin. I didn't know what I was getting, or if they would grow. Both have become a pleasant surprise.

In the back, the peonies and azaleas were earlier in the spring and I did not get photos. But the fringe tree is looking glorious this year (along with my garden tools and beds in progress).

And last but not at all least, also in the backyard near the driveway and the back deck, iris versicolor 'John Wood'. With Garbo.

May 8, 2023
A Few Things that Made me Happy

I've been busy since last week's meditation, as has Mother Nature. Spring is continuing apace.

There are quite a few bright spots in the garden. Most plants are beginning to leaf out or set buds. It doesn't appear that I have lost much to the cold, but most of my plants are cold hardy for this planting zone, which should allow for minimum temperatures of zero or below. Of course it didn't help that nothing was dormant and that the temperature dropped from 70 to zero, but I grew up in Texas, even if my plants didn't. I tend to get far more bent out of shape over the things humans do to each other than I do over Natures upsets.

Still, how can one's heart not be lifted by new blossoms?

Last week I told you that I had bought a brisket with the intention of making corned beef. I have set two big chunks of brisket to cure, about 10 pounds total, which should last me a while. Although I did not make corned beef when I was struggling with health issues, I am happy to have another batch in process. I am running another comparison, following up on my results from the last time I made corned beef, and I will inform you of the results. I am basically using the same marinade on both, but varying the time of the cure, as a refinement of those previous results. To my taste, corned beef is all about the cure. I haven't yet found a commercially available, grocery store corned beef I find acceptable, and I have been less than impressed with cures that marinade for less than 5 days (the minimum I see recommend in recipes. Hopefully this is the beginning of a process for maintaining a household staple. I can freeze part of the beef, and use it regularly, not just in March. I've always considered corned beef a year-round thing, not a Saint Patrick's Day thing, anyway, perhaps that is the Jewish deli influence in my life, just as I find the seasonal corned beef and cabbage dinner to be the least interesting thing to do with a corned beef. (Remember it is all about the cure for me). In fact I've had more than a fair number of "corned beef and cabbage" dinners where the beef is barely cured, and could just as well be a New England Boiled Dinner, something I grew up eating. Anyway, look for results in a week or two.

The garden is behind where it was at this time in 2020 (the last time I made corned beef also) but I am not worried about that. What gets done will get done. I am happy to have increasing energy, to work on things as I can, and make the best of it. I am also happy that my energies and my mental wanderings are more forward-looking than reactive, that there is hope.

I cleaned out the freezer and the pantry this week as well, and found 4 chicken carcasses, 4 pounds of chicken backs and necks, and several gallons of leek/celery/onion/vegetable trimmings for stock. I've been out of chicken stock for a while as well, so out came the 16 quart stock pot and a batch of chicken stock was made. The stock is in the refrigerator now, where it has been chilling so I can separate off the layer of fat, which will be reserved for cooking. I will be canning the remaining stock later today. I think I have between 9 and 10 quarts to be canned. I've already used one quart to make some soup from a bit of cabbage and lettuce that had been hanging around the fridge a little too long.

In fact, leftover lettuce or vegetable soup is another one of my favorite things. My mug of soup and I are about to go sit on the deck and absorb the sunshine. Here's to glorious days filled with hope. Believe me, it is there if you look for it.

March 18, 2023