FIELD NOTES: I see myself...

What Next? Haiku

I can scale walls, but
I sometimes tire looking for
the next toehold. Rest?

FIELD NOTES: Heart transplant...

My daughter got married in Seattle today...

FIELD NOTES: Goodbye to summer friends...

...Sunday morning at the flea market...backyard at the grill...a glass of evening wine with jazz at the bistro set on the deck outside the kitchen...or...just keepin' cool around the house...& garden...snipping chives & mint...during one-too-humid-summer-spent-waiting-for-a-breath-of-fresh-air...

HAIKU: Bee-sotted at sunrise...

                   Vine jiggles! I dash -

                   get paper - make coffee. He

                   ...sating......self.........proper.

FIELD NOTES: The original Sunny 'D'...

...so I'm running into Big Y for salad and some wild sockeye to grill, when I am stopped still in my tracks by a curbside rack filled with $12.99 sunflower patio pots...it's the middle of another heat wave and still only the last day of June, so crabbiness is an easy commodity to come by, but I grab one of their new mini-carts and wheel this beauty around the store in my black-white-turquoise sundress...this lovely kept getting liked for looking so happy I wish I was getting a sales commission...Moral of the Story: when you have a little paycheck, a little AC and a little poison ivy, find a great big yellow sunflower that makes strangers smile, go home, throw some fish on the grill, pour some Pinot Grigio in a Polish crystal wine glass, find Andrea Bocelli on Pandora and you'll be dancing around the kitchen in your sundress, even if nobody's home... NOTE: THIS IS A TRUE STORY

FIELD NOTES: The rest of the 'tail'...

The cat that ate the birdies.

Suspect #1:

DESCRIPTION: white, gray, tail-less; last seen wearing a pink collar with fake diamonds.

NYT: How Many Computers to Identify a Cat?

FIELD NOTES: Peeps

Have had trouble finding time to write, but...

here is inspiration found...

two birds in the bush are worth more than a bird in the hand...

FIELD NOTES: Check out these Celebrity tomatoes!

I finally grew some big tomatoes! What a satisfying reward after blizzard, tornado, earthquake and hurricane! DELICIOUS!

FIELD NOTES: Crazy Winter Caption Contest

...can't think of a prize, but just for the fun of it....

Disclaimer: No squirrels were harmed in this photo. It's a plastic solar one from Home Depot that sits in my perennial garden atop a faux-bicycle plant stand.

FIELD NOTES: I have never seen my garden in such a sorry state...

Sunday afternoon, Labor Day Weekend

...between recreation, vacation, extreme weather, and work, I had left them to nature’s reactions of self-preservation and opportunity. The zebra grass is of jungle proportions, leaning out over the stone walkway like switchblades. I give it a good haircut and rein it in with green garden twine like an unruly mop of hair. The weeds are as large as my perennials…and look healthier. As I dig them out and rejuvenate the beds with the red cedar mulch that has been lying in bags on my driveway all summer, I feel something cool on my foot. Thinking it is a spear of zebra grass I look down and squeak, not because I am repelled, but because it is surprising to see a large earthworm weaving itself through the thong of my blue rubber flip-flop. I slip the sandal off and the worm transfers itself to the moist insole. Trying to be sensitive to the worm’s needs, I slide it back onto the soil, but this creature with no legs, arms or eyes, seems to be seeking out my foot with its head, sensing and breathing through its skin. What am I to this worm? I have no clitellum for mating. What does it want, what does it need? Charles Darwin, who studied the earthworm for thirty-nine years, had this to say: "The plow is one of the most ancient and most valuable of man's inventions; but long before he existed, the land was in fact regularly plowed and still continues to be thus plowed by earthworms. It may be doubted whether there are many other animals which have played so important a part in the history of the world, as have these lowly organized creatures."

FIELD NOTES: Preparing for the west coast...

Real summer life has kept me from virtual life...not much posting, browsing and commenting...and I won't be very active the next two weeks because I'm finally visiting my daughter in Seattle. Haven't taken a vacation in years...hope to have quality items for Show and Tell upon my return. Meanwhile, I've left a July album and added a new guestbook for the enjoyment of anyone who stumbles here...and while you're at it, check out my older posts...this is a journal blog rather than one that contains time-sensitive material...

Good thoughts!
Diane

FIELD NOTES: Her favorite color was green...

Sunday morning musing

...that’s what I remember my mother telling me when I asked her that question. Little-girl-me turned up her nose as if a piece of cabbage had just been put in her mouth. Green?...how boring. Back then I was all about purple and pink…BRIGHT purple and pink…even going so far as to paint the bathroom tile with grape juice. I still can admire violet and fuchsia in the garden, but I have recently noticed I am going ‘green’ in a different context…my appreciation moving farther down the plant…sliding down the slender slipperiness of the stem…to water sipping, life-sustaining…green. Perhaps it is me getting better with age…like fine wine and cheese…or…becoming more like my mother (a mode some swear they’ll never allow)…but as most conditions go, so goes green with both positive and negative connotations. I do find myself unconsciously attracted to green in my clothing choices, accessories and home décor…and if I gathered it together like a bushel of vegetables, it might make a serenely self-describing still-life…..…but then of course…….there’s blue!

Garden: Day 20



Garden 'camo' (NOT green)

FIELD NOTES: Rescued from the fall...

...a beloved Edith Wolford iris, from the famous White Flower Farm in Litchfield, a gift of one rhizome now repeated a dozen times around my perennial garden, fell to earth because of rain and my previous lack of foresight. The house came with an awkward rectangle of grass between the front of the house and the walkway that leads down to the driveway, so I scooped it out and planted. I should have replaced the old pressure-treated border and raised the bed to level the landscape, but too late now. Stem and stamen tilt forward whenever weighted with water and I find myself propping things up with rocks and ornaments and wiry devices...a dependent relationship. The senior citizens of my garden - the baby's breath and an inherited lavender - have finally lived out their expected lifespan and failed to return this year...and the tiger lilies that stood sentry in the background seem to have been choked out by a relative newcomer, Moonbeam Coreopsis, that I didn't keep my eye on. So I owed it to the one who fell to prop her up in place that was complementary to her complexion and where everyone could continue to view her elaborate tiers of ruffles in pale yellow and violet that I would never keep in my own wardrobe, but in nature's dress shop, anything goes, everything is always in style and grand old ladies deserve to go gracefully.

FIELD NOTES: My own Flower of the Day...

Last day of May

...a picture-perfect weekend...and I am head over heels for the temperature and sun and breeze and blooms...barely have time to compose the words to express it. Although I always have hopes, I don't quite know what I will get when I plant things, but...if we consider the potential in what we sow and do our best to nurture its growth, we can love whatever comes of it; we can feel joy at its birth and accomplishment at its blooming...or, if it fails, take the opportunity to assess and develop the patience to persevere. Gardens teach us a lot...take care in choosing what you think you will love, know the care you will need to commit to and understand the power of weeds...


Featured flowers: Peony and Edith Wolford iris

FIELD NOTES: Memorial Day tradition...

The Garden: Day 1



Garden Friend:



Ready to Go:

JUST HAD TO SAY...

Comment on a post by The Everyday Adventurer
Snake Attack
"In defense of the garter snake, king snakes eat garter snakes as well as rattlesnakes, birds eat them, cats eat them, so one man's snake may be another man's dinner! Having grown up as a nature girl, I guess I learned to accept the indelicate side of the natural world early on, but find the beauties of nature intensified by virtue of this contrast. Respect in the natural world is very important, sometimes for our own safety. As a teacher, I try to challenge myself to bring these two sides together because as the saying goes: "We hate some persons because, we do not know them and we will not know them because we hate them" can go for all creatures (bugs, snakes). Frogs and ladybugs can seem cute so we like them! I wouldn't say I 'like' snakes, but I felt awfully bad when I accidentally ran over one with my lawn mower! That was NOT a pretty story and I will spare you the details! If anyone would like to take the challenge, here's a good site for easing into the world of snakes: Dave's Garden"

FIELD NOTES: I have a compost bin...

Not your usual TGIF (the end of Spring Break)

...of chicken wire and pressure-treated wood at the side of the shade garden where red worms (the good ones for composts) are free to come and digest…banana peels, melon rinds, wilted lettuce, eggshells, coffee grounds…I flip over a season’s worth of dirt and organic scraps from the left side, sift it through the homemade screen into the storage barrel and toss what’s left (usually the last scraps added before a hard freeze) back into the right side of the bin. Left, right, left, right, lift, sift, toss…it is repetitive, physical labor, but out in the new spring air, one of my first…and most satisfying and meditative…outdoor chores. I love jumping right into the bin and filling my shoes and cuffs as I work. To gardeners, this is real ‘black gold’. I will churn it in the vegetable garden or fertilize the plants with compost tea. My father made the compost bin for me when we bought our little house fifteen years ago…and it’s still holding up…it’s still returning to the earth what belongs to the earth, and turning plain, old dirt into beautiful soil. I have a compost bin…

I have discovered there are about as many different ways to make a compost as there are to make meatloaf - and you can't screw it up! Email or leave a comment if you have any questions about simple - and free - backyard composting - I'm not an expert, but I've made plenty of mistakes!

Here are some links - when I find more I like, I'll add to the list:

Tips for the Lazy Gardener
Smartgardening
Groundwater
Better Connecticut urban compost video

FIELD NOTES: Amethyst stands in the seed aisle next to me…

a Spring Break afternoon

...and she wants all the flower seeds, but her mother tells her that they don’t have all the different kind of suns in their yard. I only know her name because her mother sings it. I think it is a beautiful name. It means stability, peace, balance, courage, inner strength, sincerity and a calm disposition and I always wished that the February birthstone were mine because I loved purple when I was Amethyst’s age. I want to tell her mother to go ahead, let her buy all the seeds you can afford, don’t discourage for one bit this enthusiastic little gardener. She could be a Miss Rumphius. But Amethyst is content to joyfully skip away after her mother…a picture perfect pair…I choose sunflowers, large bottle gourds and Kentucky Wonder beans, then with a smile, I move on to pick out garden gloves and quick-release hose connectors. Everyone in the store seems giddy with the coming of spring…especially Amethyst!

FIELD NOTES: "Breakdown garden"...

Columbus Day Weekend

...is on my list because not only do I have a few extra days off from school, but the weather is glorious for October - 70 degrees and sunny! The necks of the sweet basil hang down with the burden of going to seed, two green tomatoes the size of golf balls (and just as hard) still cling to life inside their cage, the Kentucky Wonder green beans are beginning to wonder if there is any longer a point to their existence, there is little evidence left of the pickling cukes and only the parsley remains forlornly looking around for its companions until I break it off at its base and stand it up in a large glass of water to await the supper salad. As I untie the bean poles and prepare to remove the mass of yellow, brown and green vines to the compost, I spy a couple of green pods suspended vertically. They are still tender! I find myself stuffing them into my mouth like a primate in the wild or a person without a home. I go down on my knees into the dark and dry garden soil pawing through the tangle to find more late bloomers. I eat them – maybe four or five – biting off their umbilical tips and spitting them out with no sense of etiquette or propriety while relishing the snap and crunch and green juice inside my mouth. A person of the twenty-first century can still sow a seed, harvest a garden and survive even in the midst of Wall Street collapsing under its virtual importance.

FIELD NOTES: Just a week ago, I wrote about planting a 'memorial garden'...

June 1, 2008

...and it is in more ways than one, not just as my Memorial Day ritual, but as a memory of many things - of earth, of my maternal grandmother and even of me. I have a habit of gardening in flip-flops. I do end up destroying them which is why I sigh to myself when I’ve forgotten to slip out of my good flip-flops and into the two dollar ones from the drug store. I don’t do it on purpose, I run out just to do water maintenance and, before I know it, I’m pulling a weed which turns into a hundred weeds. My nails fill with dirt and dinner is delayed, but no matter, it’s summer and dinner can be eaten at eight without much consequence. And that is the memorial to my grandmother who, in the days before jellies and crocs, fashioned her own backyard footwear out of flip-flop bottoms and ruffled elastic lace from the five and dime store because she did NOT like a thong between her toes. She trimmed her toenails with a pocket knife that fascinated and startled me at the same time and her size six shoes were just right for little girls to play dress-up with. I remember her feet brown with soil from walking around her make-shift gardens – the sunny strip behind the garage where green beans crawled and horseradish, rhubard and sour grass for schav (Polish sorrel soup) squatted wherever they could and at the end of the hedgerow atop the steep bank were tomato plants or little cukes in old metal tubs. By memory or design, I pretty much grow the same stuff. And my feet sink into the soft fertile earth, my toenails fill up with garden dirt and I swing my feet, one at a time, into the bathroom sink to scrub them. It would be easier to wear sneakers or garden boots, but it wouldn’t feel nearly as good, it wouldn’t have that glorious connection to ancestors, to earth…to me. It happens to be my fiftieth birthday…and it feels good.