From the depths of memory

I have been spending most of my free time in the garden - pulling weeds, planting, transplanting, and mulching.  Sometimes Zeby tries to "help" by digging next to me. And when this happens a distant memory from my childhood surfaces. I must have had a children's book, perhaps featuring a dog or badger (?), who digs in the wrong places, because my brain will all of a sudden provide this little quote:

"Must not dig in the garden, must not dig in the sand....." and then a something-something about the seaside.

I have a feeling this may have been one of my childhood books that my parents read to me when I had to take my asthma medicine - then it was a sticky clear liquid that tasted like very fake peach or orange.

Anyway, my knitting time has shrunk dramatically, but I managed to get a swatch done.

And I have cast on and completed 6 rows or so. Not much, and not nearly enough progress for me to have a finished tank by Thursday when I leave for TNNA in Columbus.  Ah well. In the grand scheme of things it is unimportant!

Like a duck swimming

All calm above the water, while a flurry of activity under.  It is all yard work, all the time around here, with brief breaks at the heat of the day, or during sudden thunderstorms for a queue-jumping knitting project - Aranami.

Since this photo was taken I have finished the rust, and I am about to start on my last color - black.

I have also: edged half of the back yard, weeded out multiple beds, raked and hacked back ground cover to recover a path, planted my single tomato plant (P can't eat raw tomatoes), transplanted one hosta and planted it as five hostas, swept the driveway, cleaned out the garage, found a new home for 45 cinder blocks, planted three large planters, set up our hose system, staked the peonies, and mulched.

All I am fit for tonight is a beer and garter stitch. Oh yeah, and a shower.

The thing with feathers

Sadly, this nest will never yield any hatchlings - it was abandoned last year. I found it last week when I was cleaning out the birdhouses.  It resonates pretty strongly with me as my house remains empty, but it also makes me think of my favorite Emily Dickinson poem.

“Hope” is the thing with feathers 

That perches in the soul 

And sings the tune without the words 

And never stops, at all 

And sweetest in the Gale is heard 

And sore must be the storm 

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm 

I’ve heard it in the chillest land 

And on the strangest Sea 

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

{ herb garden }

Last year's summer garden project is done.  We had a very early thaw, then several hard freezes that have made this spring a real challenge.  Below is the bed as it started out. I pulled the myrtle and ivy away from the house, then waited for my perenials to emerge.

March 13, 2012

My dormant Japanese Anemone plant came back with a vengeance. Given the chance this plant would have taken over the entire retaining wall garden. The core has been dug up and split.  I am trying to keep four transplants alive from this original plant.  Time will tell whether they will survive.  I really loved its beautiful pink flowers, so I hope it likes the new locations I have chosen for it.

May 14, 2012

A lot of weeding and hoeing occured before the plants were laid out and the bird bath was placed.

May 20, 2012

Planted herbs: Mint, sage, oregano, chives, taragon, chervil, lemon balm, lemon verbena, lavender, dill, chamomile, mint and sage. (My front yard is mostly thyme, so I didn't bother transplanting it.)

May 20, 2012

Also, nasturtiums are planted near the wall as I had an excellent nasturtium leaf pesto last October at Another Fork in the Road in Milan, New York. Rosemary is planted separately in a pot, and I will be getting basil seedlings from a friend who planted WAY too many. Yum!

Ideally I would have used some small willow edging fences, but they seem strangely hard to find through any reputable company.  Even through Amazon the sources look shady. Ah well.  I won't need them for a few years anyway.

I hope a picture at the end of the summer will be impressive!

Sweet Sixteen

Today's yard work (and workout with the trainer) was rewarded by a North Peak Nomad Dry Cider and a little bit of knitting while watching P mow the lawn. (Real men use Reel mowers, btw.)

Today also saw the departure of the remaining scrubby trees along the side of our house where the city tree came down. The area in question is just beyond P - you can see the fence is not exactly complete there.

Tomorrow P and I are headed north for a mini vacation. It can be really challenging to find a few days for fun and relaxation, especially when one's husband is a part-time law student and a part-time (hah!) doctor. A little change of scene is definitely in order!

When I get back I have to face the herb garden - actually putting it in this year. The chives are about to bloom. I have gifted tarragon waiting for me in a plastic bag, and bee balm self-seeding itself EVERYWHERE.  The reason I am putting this off? My monster of a Japanese Anemone needs to be transplanted.  That is going to be a job and a half, and despite my best efforts, the plant might not survive.  Sigh.

But I am not going to worry my pretty little head about that now! Vacation. YAY!

p.s. my knitting is the center tiles of square SIXTEEN.

Only lemons today....

I woke up to what sounded like a cap gun going off about five or six times, but then was followed by a tremendous CRACK! and a WHUMP! that could only be one thing.....

...tree failure.

One of the City's trees split in half and took out our beautiful (and disease free) 50 foot tall White Pine. Snapped it like a twig.  For a sense of scale - the remaining trunk of the White Pine is about 8 feet tall.
The City tree narrowly missed taking out our diseased Blue Spruce, but succeeded in destroying a 20 foot section of our new fence.

SO. Yet another reason to get back on the coldsheeping wagon. It was fun while I was off, but even with us being able to file a claim with the city for repairs and replacements, we will now need to take down some other trees in the area and replant.

Ah, the joys of home ownership!

Cabin Fever

After a week of gorgeous 80 degree weather things have turned cold again - 30s in the morning, maybe getting to 50 for the high of the day.  Today was spent cleaning out the yard - or at least the most visible part of it.  I have kind neighbors, and they tell me how great my yard looks.  My next door neighbor promises to throw Virginia Bluebells over the fence into my yard once they go to seed. They don't last long, but I love their light green leaves and cheerful blue flowers.  I have a small, but growing patch of bluebells occupying a spot by the driveway.

Pictures from yesterday's walk in Okemos, Michigan.

Bittersweet

Sunning turtles

Bee Fountain

The honeybees found a thawed plant reservoir. I put the limestone rock on the side to prevent drownings.

Dog as Landscape

Michigan, like most of the country, is getting some unseasonably warm weather - highs in the 80s, early blooming trees, and a garden that is waking up much earlier than I was prepared for.

I don't know why I left the dog inside, perhaps he had been sleeping and I decided to let him dream.

I spent the day ripping out ivy and myrtle to make room for an herb garden. I still need to transplant a monster of an Anemone plant that I swear I can hear growing at night. I am not sure it will survive, and this is what is keeping me from moving forward.  Sometimes I get daunted by projects and all of a sudden it has been another year, and it still isn't done.

But I am determined to get my herb garden this year!

It has been strangely warm in Michigan recently. On our walk yesterday I only needed a sweatshirt and a hat as far as "bundling up" was concerned. Today I wore my Clockwork and a light autumn jacket and I was hot.  It is really hard to get down to some serious knitting when I am still waiting for the weather to cooperate.

It looks like cooler weather may be on the way for Sunday, but tomorrow? Nearly 60 degrees.  And I am headed for an Antique Mall to do some Christmas shopping.  No big box stores for me!

Ten on Tuesday: Things for which I am Thankful

1. My family. Whether it is my tiny little family surrounding me in Michigan (i.e. P, Zeby, and Dulce) or my parents and sister in Connecticut, I am so thankful I have them in my life. The more I talk to people the more I realize how incredibly lucky I am to have the family I do. P is a wonderful caring, loving husband who loves me unconditionally.  He waited for an unreasonable amount of time for me, and I have no idea why. But I am so thankful that I finally saw what he was offering and realized what it meant. My father is always supportive, my mom is the most patient and loving person I know, and my sister can be depended upon to put the best, most ironic twist on any bad situation so that you have to laugh.  My family has made me a resilient and whole person.

2. My health.  Not always healthy, but very practiced at healing.  My body is covered in scars; a half moon on my knee from learning how to walk, my keloids and other scars from chicken pox, and my most recent addition, a 4-inch surgery scar on the back of my ribcage. I am working on my day-to-day health by eating better, going to the gym as often as I can stand, and running from time-to-time when the mood strikes.  Every night I am reminded how lucky I am to have modern medicine. As a chronic asthmatic I am on permanent medication, and I sometimes worry about post-apocalyptic scenarios.  While other people will be breaking into pharmacies to get methadone, vicodin, or oxycontin, I will be breaking in to stock up on asthma medicine.

3. My friends. I make nice acquaintances quickly, but good friends are only seldom made.  My closest friends are spread out across the country - Austin, TX; Boston, MA; Maui, HI, NYC, NY. I miss them each terribly, and I should really tell them how much they mean to me.

4. My boss. I have always worked for women, but my current boss? Best of them all. Creatively supportive, wickedly funny, and Trouble with a capital "T".  I am often mistaken for her daughter, and when that idea is negated, customers ask if I am a relative. (If you see me with her daughters it is abundantly clear that I am not one of them.) She is a pleasure to work with, and I miss her if she takes the day off.

5. My Job. I used to work someplace else when I first moved to Michigan, and it made me miserable. The endless bureaucracy, the menial labor, the inability to be creative or think for oneself. I believed in the mission of this place, but it was soul-crushing. So I decided to look around at my local LYSs. I had actually received two job offers from two different shops.  One just didn't feel right - and I am glad that my instincts were so fine tuned - because I turned it down. The second came out of the blue, quite literally, and I was so happy to accept a few months later. My job feeds my creativity, and even in the bleak midwinter I can shelve brightly colored wool to battle the effects of a Michigan winter.

6. Knitting. Nothing has given me more comfort in hard times than being able to make things with my hands.  Knitting has given me a community when I had none. Knitting has given me something to do when my husband has had to study and work late. Knitting continues to introduce me to new people and new challenges.  Knitting has led me to both spinning and weaving - crafts that I am only beginning to understand, but enthusiastically embracing.

7. My house. The Little Yellow House (LYH) is so odd and quirky. Too-steep stairs, tiny little rooms, a cozy living room with a smokey fireplace, and the non-winterized "sunroom" with windows from ceiling to floor - the perfect height for a corgi to watch squirrels run around in the backyard. Yes, sometimes it feels like the LYH is going to fall-down around our heads, but I adore it.

8. My green Subaru. Even though I drive its replacement now, (my green Subaru is P's commuting car) I love this car.  It has protected me from two crashes.  Crash #1 was with a large deer or small elk when I lived in New Mexico. I was going 75 mph (the legal limit in NM) and the deer was between me and the sun on a sweeping turn. I didn't see it until it was on my windshield and then rolling down the side of my car.  With a little help from a State Trooper and P, I was able to pull the melted plastic liner from my wheel-well off my tire, and P drove it back to Albuquerque. That weekend P and I had traded cars. I had been driving P's soft-top Mazda Miata for several weeks while P worked in the Four Corners region. Had I been in the Mazda I probably would have been killed. Because of my glorious little green Subaru, I was shaken, but unhurt. Crash #2 happened in Cambridge, one block from my house. It was a T-bone crash with a crazy driver with a canoe on the roof of her car. She must have been texting or something, because she blew through a very dead red.  Poor Subaru - this happened on the same side of the car as the deer.

9. My garden. It is a total mess, and is often neglected, but being out in the dirt and the bugs and the worms seems to feed something in me that is just waking up.  Considering both of my parents are hardcore Gardeners, I consider these feelings a dominant gene that is just being switched on. I get overwhelmed easily, and sometimes I throw up my hands in frustration that I will ever get my gardens looking like ANYTHING. I am assuming at some point I will, because my genes tell me so.

10. My yarn stash.  Yes, it is huge.  Yes, it is sometimes a burden.  I may also have made provisions for it in my will.  But it represents untapped joy (and frustration) that only the creative process can bring.  As money has gotten tighter I have been able to rely on my stash to provide creative nourishment to me.  I am on a yarn diet until April for many reasons.  But this means that I can explore the wonderful yarn that I have squirreled away over the last (gulp!) eleven years.  I could easily go four or five years without buying yarn. But considering I often think about post-apocalyptic scenarios, a yarn diet of that duration will never happen. I need to be useful in a society that needs rebuilding. The ability to make warm clothes from start to finish can only be deemed as truly useful, right?

So there you have it, 10 things that I am thankful for today!

Golden Queen

Trollius chinensis, (Globeflower) Golden Queen

My favorite color of yellow - saffron.  This color often represents sacrifice and salvation.  When I lived on the Upper East Side my bedroom curtains were this lovely color.  A few times a year the sun would rise and the light would reflect off the Bank across the alley from my bedroom.  My entire bedroom would fill with defuse golden light.  I would wake up early on Sundays, get an H&H bagel and take it to Carl Schurz Park. There I would watch people walk their dogs, and see tug boats work their way up the East River.

Those days that I woke up to golden light were some of my happiest moments of my life in Manhattan.  My heart would fill with peace, and I could rise above every little thing that came my way.  Even when a long-term relationship was dying, my golden light would buoy me, sustain me, convince me that I could be happy again.

I no longer have saffron curtains. But whenever I see this color it reminds me. I take a deep healing breath. I lower my shoulders and imagine tug boats persistently working their way against the current.