Garden In July

 

 

Some photos of my garden in July. The first of the month the blooms were bright with roses and daisies. Some flowers are fading now and others filling in. It always amazes me to watch how nature changes. The Crepe Myrtle and Tiger Lilies are adding hot pink and orange in huge spurts of color!

 

 

 

 

Jasmine blossoms round the arbour,
Elder spreads along the air,
Hollyhocks stand proudly tallest
In the fragrant thoroughfare.
Pansies, like a 'broidered carpet,
Through the garden ways are set,
And the sweet-peas catch the sunlight
In a tangled flowery net.
Sunflowers, with a kingly bearing,
Hold their golden heads on high,
Pinks breathe out a friendly welcome
Every time you pass them by.
Gather seeds while seeds do ripen
In the bounteous July sun,
Garner well the treasure-packets
In your store-house one by one.
And before the month is over,
Pluck sweet lavender and dry
All its tiny flowers for sweetness,
In the winter by and by.

Caroline Maitland (1858 – 1920) was an English poet and writer. She married in 1883 Ernest Radford, and wrote as Dollie Radford.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My David Austin Rose Is Blooming!

 

 

 

 

Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan

 

 

Nothing says cottage garden more than roses to me. I want old fashion English roses that look like the roses in magazines, climbing over arbors, twining through picket fences.

 

My wish came true today. In a small way. But big enough to fill my heart with the beauty I covet. And it is growing in my back yard.

 

Finally.

 

My very own David Austin rose is in full regalia with blossoms and buds ready to burst open at any moment.

 

Now, if I were a true gardener, I could tell you the name of this rose. But I don't have a clue. It was purchased twenty years ago from a catalog. The photo was one of many that I had trouble deciding on. I knew pink was a must.

 

It took years to bloom. The rose is planted next to the back of the house. My late husband built a huge trellis for me. The vines took hold of the wood railings and started to climb high. But the rose never had a single flower.

 

Did you fertilize it? you might ask. My answer is no. I did nothing to help this English lady blossom.

 

I just waited.

 

And wondered.

 

Back when my husband was alive he was not happy with the bush. It reached out far into the yard with huge thick thorns that stuck him as he rode by on the lawnmower. There may not have been flowers, but the branches had a life of their own. He pruned it back a few times and tucked the  branches back on the trellis, hoping to contain it. Sometimes cutting it back further than he should at times when pruning was not recommended.

 

Still the rose bush held its own coming back each year. But no blooms.

 

The year after my husband died, I had to put a French drain in next to the foundation of the house. There was water in my basement. The trellis was moved. The rose stayed in place.

 

"Cut that rose bush when you dig the ditch and it is off with your heads!" I told my handyman and his crew as I wagged a finger in their faces.

 

The rose survived the French drain.

 

It bloomed the following year. And has had a rose or two on it each year since.

 

This year it is taking me by surprise.

 

Huge blooms. Many buds.

 

My rose bush. Neglected. Managed to grow despite adversity and is now a thing of beauty.

 

I know there is a life lesson there.

 

For now I'm just going to watch with awe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/roses.html#8L4DMRokLgFK2TEA.99

Won't you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.

Richard Brinsley Sheridan

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/keywords/roses.html#8L4DMRokLgFK2TEA.99

How Does My Garden Grow?

Obviously Mistress Mary had someone helping her in the garden, looking that lovely and clean, her linen clothes impeccable  . . . or all she did was water her plants. I have had two Monday mornings out in my yard, weeding, planting, hauling debris in the proper paper sacks to the curb for the trash to pick up, all the while . . . looking like something that had rolled in the mud.

I garden like I paint.

Half of what I do lands on me.

Perhaps that is part of the fun. Maybe Mistress Mary would not look so solemn if she allowed Mother Nature to make her a little dirty.

Then she would be grinning like I do when I finish my rounds in the yard.

This year my resolve is to get my gardens in shape. It started last spring with a picket fence out front. A stately, yet cottage style, picket fence in natural wood and a  lovely garden cement maiden that would make any yard proud. I had help planting a few Knock Out roses, a few large Hydrangea plants that cost more than a meal at a fine restaurant, but a feast for the eyes and soul, more than any entrée I've devoured. (Although I do enjoy the instant gratification of a wonderful meal in a lovely setting with a glass of wine shared with friends.) The garden bed by my picket fence started to take shape.

Imagine how excited I was to see my roses start to bloom a week ago, their pretty faces peeking through the pickets of my fence. I clapped my hands with joy and did a happy dance. I decided I needed more roses, more flowers, more sweet charm.

I found roses one rainy afternoon that spoke to me as I went through the garden section of Home Depot, looking for plants as table decorations for an writer's event I had volunteered to do the floral table arrangements for the following week. I decided not to buy cut flowers at their expense, but to pay for the flowers myself, buy something I could take home after the event, and plant in my yard.

The flowers would be a lovely reminder of the friendships from that evening, but it would also get me off my lazy butt to plant in my yard. You just can't leave plants in the trunk of your car for any length of time! So the following Monday found me digging in the dirt.

I had the time of my life. The soil was easy to work, it had not gotten parched from the heat, but was delightfully damp from all the rain we had. Did someone say use gloves? I never do. I love to feel the dirt between my fingers, makes me more one with nature. Also makes for a heck of a lot of scrubbing to get nails clean again. I dig deep and claw at the ground to pull old roots, ivy, and anything in my way.

Life is changing for me again this year. I am growing, reaching in new directions, just like my roses. I've weeded out what needed to go in my life so I can branch out to do more of the things I want. I am a hanger-on, it is time to let go. Antiques have always been a love of mine, and they still are. But I want to buy for myself when I get a whim, not buy for resale. So I've closed my antique booths and the words antique dealer are off my resume, replaced with  . . sometimes antique dealer. (I let go slowly!)  My selling will be private when the mood strikes. Not having a booth to tend to will give me time to work in my garden, write my books, relax with the dogs.

Letting go of things can be difficult, but if you choose wisely, what goes, what stays, the feeling is euphoric. Or maybe it is just the feel of the soil, the sweat from working hard, breathing in fresh air, exercise, all the things that make you feel physically great, and one with the universe.

My universe sends me signs. I swear the roses spoke to me as I packed the soil around them.  Plant more is what I heard. You'll find me next at a favorite shop that sells fragrant herbs. What is a garden without Rosemary and Lavender?  

A few photos of my roses. Small, lovely, but my little garden that I will tend to with joy! It is a start . . . and with everything in life, the first step is starting. Stay tuned to see how we grow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When In Fear Of A Dog Bite Always Buy Pink Roses

The face of a guilty dog.

A dog that intends to bite does not bear its teeth.  Turkish Proverb

If I had read this proverb two days ago, I might not have bought more pink roses for my yard. But Bertha showed me her teeth and I went out on a spree.

I think in reality the rain had gotten to all of us. Me, Bertha, and the other five hounds. I saw more teeth this week because of dog boredom. Teeth not in my direction, but my normally well behaved pups got testy with each other. Then a set of pearly whites did gleam at me.

It was raining again and the only thing to do was take a nap. The old cantankerous Annabelle was asleep on the bed. I tried to crawl in next to her and she refused to budge. Then Bertha flew into the room, jumped in the air, and landed smack dab on Annabelle's front paws. That woke Annabelle up, who proceeded to snarl at Bertha. A mean snarl that said "don't do that again if you know what is good for you."

Bertha cowered by the pillow. I was amazed she didn't growl back. I was pleased she was learning her manners. Bertha was the last dog to come to the pack and her social progress was slow.

Within minutes the room was full of dogs. It doesn't help I cry out "dog party" as they all make their way to my king-size bed. We snuggled down for a nap, the rain pounding on the roof,  the sound of it dripping against the window was a sad reminder it was time to clean the gutters.

Chloe my seven pound Chi was under the quilt when I turned and squashed her. She did not take it kindly and poked her head out to let me know she was quite annoyed. I ignored her. After all, she is only seven pounds. No matter how sinister she tries to be, I can only smile. She twirled around and scooted back under the quilt.

Bertha sat up and started to shake her head. I had been worried she might have an ear infection earlier in the week. The movement she made only convinced me I was right.

"Come on, girl!" I eased off the bed and she moved to follow me. She stepped on Chloe under the quilt, mashed Annabelle's paw again, and bumped into Rascal as she jumped to the floor. Three dog heads shot up, but they kept silent. April and Bray were unfazed. Does that add up to six dogs?

I reached over to Bertha's head and touched her ear. She winced and growled at me. Her teeth were close to my hand, her eyes looked at me for an instant, then she dropped her head in shame.

For that nano second I saw her teeth I panicked. Her nose flew up and she smelled my fear. Then she became contrite. She did nothing more than any of my other dogs would do if I'd grabbed an ear that hurt them. But because Bertha is still an unknown it worried me more than I liked.

Between the rain and my concern over Bertha my day felt bleak. I put on my jeans, grabbed the car keys and headed out. I drove around the shopping center and passed Kroger.  In the grey drizzle of rain I saw a soft pink. Roses.

I couldn't park my car fast enough. Did I need more roses? Is that a question a rose lover would ask. There are never enough roses.

I purchased three rose bushes at Kroger and gently placed them in my van. The sun did not come out, but my mood elevated back to its normal happy self.

My little cottage garden is filling up. The roses will be planted in the next few days. I am waiting for the sun to shine so I can find the best spot for them. I've already planted roses by my picket fence.

In the meantime, I placed the roses by the front window, next to the old tin girl and cow that was my sign at the shop. It may be the decoration over my awning later this month, up high on my roof line. For now, it looks lovely framed by roses.

The dogs were happy to see me as I entered the house. I uncrated Bertha and she butted me with her head. Her thick muzzle had the velvet feel of a horse's mouth. She pranced over to the sofa, jumped up and rolled over on her back. Belly rubs were called for. She has an appointment with the vet for her ear on Tuesday.

I love my dogs. I love my roses. Simple pleasures.  Roses have thorns that will prick you if you are not careful. And just maybe a dog with a tender ear will bear its teeth if you touch it wrong.

Life lessons learned and a great excuse to buy roses for my yard.  While I am still waiting for the sun to shine my life is full of light.

Kroger. Could you drive by and not stop?

The companion next to me on the car seat.

More roses on the front seat.

Waiting patiently.

My old shop sign.

I Can See Clearly Now ...Revisiting My Back Yard

Before

On April 25, I posted about my back yard nightmare! You can visit the post here. The back of my house was a jungle I didn't know how to tame. Several years of neglect sprouted small trees and Privet in all my beds. What you can't see here is the tall wrought iron garden cart to the left and the five foot tall iron angel to the right.

Right?

Well take another look now!

In my book The Unfaithful Widow I talk about my garden. It is a garden full of memories more than one I plant in each year. Some of those memories were uncovered yesterday with the help of two great workers. A tree service I've used before came to clean my roof and gutters and get my yard back to where I can work in it again. There is still much to do, but a great start don't you think?

                                After                           

My vintage garden angel taller than I am.

There she is, my angel Anne, named for my late husband's cousin. She left here a year after he did. I found this angel at an antique store and knew I would always remember her when I looked at it. She has been hidden too long! Morning, I heard her voice in a soft whisper that brushed past me when I took this photo earlier. She was a psychic so you never know!

Garden cart and trellis topped with a huge rose bush ready to bloom!

 

The tall garden cart came from the Atlanta Botanical Gardens gift shop when I worked there part-time my first year alone. It was black, but a coat of pink paint made it perfect for a cottage garden. The back wood trellis was built by my husband over twenty-five years ago. Both are covered in roses that are ready to bloom. The bush came from a small plant purchased at the grocery store, grew out of control in its pot and was transplanted into the garden. With all the neglect, it comes back and blooms every year. Now I can see it! Look for photos when my roses take off.

Brace yourself for the next change. It gives me the willies actually, but everyone says Crepe Myrtles grow back. The one in my center back yard was cut back to the nubbins! I cringe on that, but it will be beautiufl again. Down my street the county has done the same with all the Crepe Myrtles that bloom there. I see new sprouts on them and it has only been two weeks since they were chopped down! My butterfly bushes grew into the top of the Crepe Myrtle, now are trimmed back and shaped. I can see the side chain link fence. The dogs love the freedome to run through the beds now! I feel like the world can peek in my yard and see me. Actually, beyond the fence is the rest of my property and a right-of-way that goes down to a creek. Visually it is so open now I feel exposed but there is a huge buffer between me and my neighbor!

Before

After. Ouch!

Bray can't hide in the butterfly bushes anymore!

A few more after shots of the yard!

Another Crepe Myrtle trimmed painfully. Trellis built by my husband many years ago. Remains of a David Austin rose bush by bottom window. One tiny pink bud on it! I bought that rose from a catalog as many years ago as the trellis was built and on occassion it blooms. It is amazing to me it is still alive.

Annabelle checks out the yard from my deck.

Annabelle prefers the view from the patio. She is my oldest dog (as in age) and the second rescue dog I adopted.

The Lady Of Lilburn has a clear view now that the Privet has been cut away. Small statues in the bed by the pea gravel patio are for Foxy and Jake, my old German Shepherds that lived a great life.

Another old iron piece in the yard and doesn't everyone need a plastic Flamingo, this one faded from the sun. End of the bed with the pink cart facing the outbuildings.

Rosemary for Remembrance
My Garden of Memories will bloom this year!

I see a party in the future! Perhaps I too am a psychic.

My Kitchen - A Pinch Of This And A Dash Of That...The Perfect Recipe

The end of my kitchen a month ago.

     The end of my kitchen has held many different antiques over the years. Two years ago I put the old paint mantel against the wall. It gives a bit of character. My heart stood still when I found it at a favorite shop. Someone painted the flowers, but the black paint is old and chippy. The gateleg table and Victorian folding chairs came in last fall when I needed a spot for my Italian exchange student to grab breakfast before school. Now that she is gone, the room seemed crowded. The old green roll-up shade was there when we bought the house almost thirty years ago. I think it held ten year's worth of dust.

     My biggest beef with the kitchen was a huge fluorescent  light that dominated the ceiling. It did give out great light, but it was full of dead bugs most days. I couldn't lift the cover off by myself, so night after night I looked up and saw bugs fly in to the light and fry.

Old ceiling light.

Other end of the kitchen. Ceiling fan was nice, but brass, I changed for one in chrome 

curtains and new ceiling light

new ceiling fan

The baker's table that got me in trouble! Sweet old robins egg blue paint chairs.

All came from Davis Street Antiques in Monroe, Ga.

      With limited funds, I opted to change the feel of the room with a new ceiling fixture and fan – both in chrome. I put in the faux tin ceiling tile backsplash behind the stove and across the back of the sink. My handyman took care of repairing the holes in the ceiling from the old fixture and then put up a new coat of crisp white paint. I plan to repaint the walls and doors white to make the room sparkle.

     The green shade came down, replaced with a Martha Stewart chrome curtain rod for under $30. My valance is a long curtain turned lengthwise. It came from the thrift store for $1.99. A matching valance is over the kitchen door.

     The light fixture and fan came in at about $60 each at Home Depot. The back splash under $30.

     My big splurge was the old baker's table with pale blueish-green paint and an old zinc top for $225 and two chippy old blue chairs that cost $39 for the pair. I think the room has an English cottage feel to it.

I rarely cook, but I love my old cottage furniture. You can tell where I put my dollars!   Below is my kitchen now. Still waiting a coat of cottage white paint.