All over the place

Not sure what to say about these, just things I've see lately that struck me.

I'm Rich

This lovely shade of purple is my only biennial, called the money plant for its shiny coin like seeds. It is also known as Lunaria annua, Honesty, Satin Flower and Moon Wort. The first year it looks like a weed, the second year it blooms in profusion , a happy surprise every time. Even better, it leaves translucent circular seed pods that resemble fifty cent pieces that kids can use for pretend money. They look lovely in dried arrangements too, so this little plant gives a lot of bang for the buck.

I love the deep veins and symmetry of the blossoms, and like how they transform from little cups to crosses as they mature. They make me wish I could draw or paint their lovely lines. I have a bag filled with coins to scatter around my gardens, and have to be patient for their lovely blooms in 2012.



Rich.

Up Closer, With Issues

These lovely yellows are barren strawberry, one of my favorite ground covers. Barren because they bear no fruit, not even tiny berries, just lovely blossoms for a few weeks each Spring. They remind me of spinsters.

My father was for a memorable time in his youth raised in Glendale, WVA, by three spinster sisters, his Aunts Carolyn, who was called Taddy, Elizabeth, who was called Dibby, and Helen-Louise.

Dibby, the oldest, wanted to become a nun but found her calling as an army nurse. Inducted into the American Legion in Baltimore MD, she stood alone, the only woman among 800 men. She was scheduled to ship overseas in 1918 but Spanish influenza required she stay here to nurse the dying. She retired to care for their mother, Carrie, who had taken to her bed in depression and refused to get up for years. Carrie rang a bell for Dibby when she needed something, and she would come.

Taddy was profoundly deaf, completely insane, and read compulsively: every book in the library, six at a time, as she rocked in her rocking chair. She was brilliant and could finish the daily NY Times crossword in minutes. She was also convinced she was the Empress of Austria, which is impressive for a daughter of Scot-Irish and English parents.

Helen Louise was born with a cleft palate and a severe speech impediment, and too would never marry, but was fiercely loved and protected by her sisters. I try to fathom the life Dibby led, the independent life that became a ringing bell, the crazy and disabled sisters, the empty bed at night when she would lay down exhausted. Maybe after what she saw of WWI on the home front, this was easy, but I would love to know how she felt in her heart. I wonder if my father was more joy than additional burden when he came as a young boy to stay with them. I know she loved my father dearly, as did her sisters; I'm sure they adored him, as he was like the son they would never have, for a time. I imagine when he left two years later to return to Princess Anne, MD to live with his reunited parents, they must have missed him terribly. I know he missed them and the stability and unwavering love they gave him.

Here is the only picture I have of my Great Aunt Dibby. I love that she is holding flowers, slightly smiling.



My Dad returned to Glendale, to the three aunts, three years later when he was just fourteen, when Dibby got sick. He returned the love and care given him, helping to nurse Carolyn and then Dibby as she succumbed to emphysema and pneumonia, attending school when he could or when he chose to go. The two sisters died within 6 months of each other in 1950. My father helped move the surviving Aunt Helen Louise, back to Princess Anne, where she lived until 1986. She was the only one of my great aunts I was ever to know, and I regret being scared by her wild eyes and incomprehensible speech, for failing to know what I could of her life.

In a family tree tracing my father's side for a legal dispute over an inheritance, my great aunts are listed as died without issue. Died w/o issue seems an odd phrase. Isn't it interesting that children are cited as issues? I am the middle child, the only to reproduce, and for the first thirty years of my life I was certain I too would die without issue, first by choice, then by chance, but I got lucky. My sister and brother have never wanted children and will purposefully die without issue. My sister and I have had several good laughs about that concept, because with or without children, we both have some serious issues, and think the pun is hilarious.

I find the ever shrinking size of our family to be striking. My father's father was one of six children surviving infancy, nine siblings total. Of the six, four died childless, the remaining two had only two children each. Of my father's three children, only I have issues, 2 fascinating, extraordinary issues. The line may be shrinking, but it lives on, like these barren beauties in my back yard. I tell my babies these stories about the people who lived before them, and cared for those who cared for me, as I care for them. I tell them I hope they keep the DNA alive, because they come from very interesting and complex people, and I hope they find someone to love and care for and have issues of their own someday. If they don't have issues, I wish them at the very least some lovely gardens of their own to tend.

Up Close and Personal

I love the macro mode on my camera (when it gets the focus right) and I love catching flowers in close up. Here are carpet phlox, violet, darwin tulip, grape hyacinth, trillium and dandelion. I have a rotten cold and can't smell a single flower, so I'm compensating with visuals. Hope I get my sense of smell back before the crabapples pop, which should be any day now. Of course I'll be posting pictures, it's what I do!

Early Spring & Vitamin D Therapy

This year, the ferns are up two weeks earlier than last year; the trilliums three weeks earlier. One more night of frost warning and I think we're in the clear. I am astonished that the lightning struck oak is budding out. Shows you what I know about just how much bark cover a tree needs to survive. It's going to be tough going for him, I'm sure of that. Why do I think he's a boy? I'm not sure, and a botanist could tell me what kind of oak he is, which I forgot, and if oaks have sexes, and maybe he's a girl because of all the acorns this fall. The old me would have googled it and been sure. The new me is just glad to watch the drama unfold. I am happy beyond description that the redbuds I planted in Dad's memory are budding out, I thought this winter did them in. Again, shows you what I know, which isn't much.
Here are some pictures of the woodland floor and pretties in my yard for you to enjoy.

Instant Karma got me

Go ahead, press play, and read along.
Today, I'm digging up bricks edgers that my lily of the valley have invaded, a veritable traffic jam of runners fighting for space, and as I wedge the bricks apart with most my strength, I wonder at how hard they're fighting just to be here and bloom too. I'm listening to my mp3's and John Lennon is singing to me and I have a completely perfect string of moments, just me, a spade, plants I'm digging to share with a friend and all the sunshine I could want, feeling sweaty, tired and complete, John Lennon giving me sage advice. Come and get your share!

Instant Karma's gonna get you,
Gonna knock you right on the head,
You better get yourself together,
Pretty soon you're gonna be dead,
What in the world you thinking of,
Laughing in the face of love,
What on earth you tryin' to do,
It's up to you, yeah you.

Instant Karma's gonna get you,
Gonna look you right in the face,
Better get yourself together darlin',
Join the human race,
How in the world you gonna see,
Laughin' at fools like me,
Who on earth d'you think you are,
A super star,
Well, right you are.

Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun,
Well we all shine on,
Ev'ryone come on.

Instant Karma's gonna get you,
Gonna knock you off your feet,
Better recognize your brothers,
Ev'ryone you meet,
Why in the world are we here,
Surely not to live in pain and fear,
Why on earth are you there,
When you're ev'rywhere,
Come and get your share.

Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun,
Yeah we all shine on,
Come on and on and on on on,
Yeah yeah, alright, uh huh, ah-.

Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun,
Yeah we all shine on,
On and on and on on and on.

Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun.
Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun.
Well we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun.
Yeah we all shine on,
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Better get yourself together darling
and we all shine on
on and on and on and on...why in the world are we here? ....come and get your share

well we all shine on, Like the moon and the stars and the sun...


Indeed.

And so it begins...

Lightning came down the east and west side of this oak, spraying one foot chunks of bark fifteen paces away in a huge arc. The tree is split vertically down the middle at least 8 feet up, I suppose as the water vapor exploded into steam, and a small piece of bark is impaled into the wood as though from a tornado. An awesome display of instantaneuos, benign destruction. I will miss this tree. It was the oldest offspring of the three dying old ones.




But the forest floor is wakening, despite the cold and wind. Trilliums and Mayapples popped while I was away, and the large colonies of dogtooth violets. I'm partial to purple mottled leaves and shy blossoms.


The nanking cherry I bought as a twig is full of blossoms. Early bulbs are everywhere. Tulips that were small sprouts when I left are heavy and glorious now. I've filled vases.




It is all good, except for the dead tree, and that's just the way it is.

There and Back Again

Sorry I've been so absent of late. I took my familiar but draining trek back to the homeland with my children, arriving on the east coast in time for the end of the monsoons. Tried to fix problems that could not be fixed, drank too much, stayed up too late, worked too hard, drove too much, left too soon, or not soon enough I suppose, met the husband for a mini family vacation tour of UM and UD college campuses (gulp!), followed by a whirlwind tour of our nation's capital during the ridiculously overcrowded cherry blossom festival.

Arrived home in the midwest in time to witness extreme thunderstorms, lose my best oak tree to lightning strike and retrieve my poor pitiful puppy from kennel hell, complete with pneumonia. Sick as a dog - now I get it. Those people have not heard the last of me, and I'll tell everyone I know with a dog to never ever use them.

Anyway, home now, problems back at the homeland are not solved, but are no worse. So it goes. My problems here are manageable, the tree will become firewood, the dog will heal and the laundry piles will get smaller. Until then, here are a few photos of lovely things I saw this week. It's good to be back. I missed my internet friends and my online life.










I saw a fabulous orchid exhibit at the National Observatory and the most amazing bonsai at the National Arboretum. The tree in the last picture has been in training since the 1850's. I think I just found a new hobby....