Gardening--I might as well laugh...

My green thumb has to be a recessive gene, because I have more trouble trying to grow food here in Arkansas than anyone should have to. I keep trying though. One day I am going to figure this out and will have the world's greatest crops to eat all summer, have a pantry filled with canning jars and a freezer brimming to capacity. At least that is what I dream about.

Granted, this year, I didn't put much effort into it. Since my husband, John had a stroke a year and a half ago, I've been relegated to chief household chore meister, cook, therapist, and animal tamer--we have cats. Truthfully, I'm lucky to get the yard mowed. I did however, get a container garden going on the deck. I planted some tomatoes, peppers, herbs, and a couple of flowers. The result is, as always, a mixed bag.

This pot of Basil, that I shall call "Count," fills a huge 20" pot, shown left, with its intoxicating scent, is attractive all on its own. It would be a success story for anyone, but the beauty of it is, I didn't do a thing. This was last year's garden plant, wintered over inside. The plant died--I have very little luck keeping Basil growing all winter. When I cleaned my sun porch this Spring, I placed this pot on the deck. The seeds that had fallen previously began to sprout and this is the result. I just love how it turned out.

I think it is time to make a little pesto, yes?

You can't get much more neglectful than this pot of Bermuda grass, at right. I call it "Shorts." I actually hate this stuff because it invades every garden and tries to wipe out every plant I have ever dug into what little soil I have.

This stuff is a scourge, for sure, but doesn't it make a pretty plant when it is contained in a pot?

At least that was my thought.

I have no idea what was growing in this pot before. I suspect a tomato plant, but whatever it was, it is long gone.

Shorts will be having an abortion the moment I see seeds form. And, it will be cremated in the Fall. But for now, I kinda like it.

One of my success stories, except for last year, has always been my favorite Serrano peppers. This year is no exception.

I just love these things. The heat is just about perfect. They might be a touch hotter than jalapenos, but it is a different kind of heat. And, they have such a wonderful flavor when cooked. They make delicious salsa, taco seasoning, and can be added to chili, or any other tomato-based dish.

This plant, "Peppy" like Count, is from last year. I dug it out of the garden and brought it indoors. I got a pepper or two while it was inside. It was really happy when I brought it out in the Spring, once it was warm enough. Peppers don't like the cold, so I was careful to monitor the temperature before I subjected Peppy to his new environment.

I think he liked it, because almost immediately, he started growing flowers and making babies.

And then there are the tomatoes, the one thing I really want to grow more than anything. For some reason, I am just unable to make it happen. This is one of several I have in pots on the deck. Thank goodness for the farmers in the area that are much more skilled than I. Only once in the 11 years that we've lived here have I canned tomatoes. A friend, who is no longer with us, was overrun with tomatoes and donated to my cause.

These pictured above happen to be Black Cherry tomatoes. The plant was doing really well, growing some beautiful fruit that was just nearing its ripening phase when I saw a rotten varmint squirrel carrying off the one I had been eyeing for weeks, in its fat little cheeks. This literally means war. I've begun playing Annie Oakley with a BB gun and mostly I just scare them...so far! As much as I love little animals, I see squirrels as evil thieves.

Anyway, a little fertilizer has encouraged this plant, "Tommy" to begin again. I still have high hopes for my garden.

A green bean plant seeded itself in the garden, which I have totally ignored this year. I've harvested one bean from it. There are lots of flowers though, so it behooves me to keep my eye on it.

And then, there's always next year.

Woodland surprises

It seems we've become a wildlife sanctuary or adoption service for newborn fawns.

I was surprised this morning to look outside and see Hannah had returned.

She was lying in the tall, unmowed grass, beneath a tall oak tree.

I accept responsibility for the unkempt backyard. Too much wet weather, a week of suffering with a bad back, and frankly, too many other things to do,  have all kept me from it. I don't worry about such trivial matters; I know it will be there when I'm ready. Now, Hannah gives me another excuse for not getting to it. I certainly don't want to disturb her. I was positively joyous to see her again, just hangin' out in a place that she, and apparently her mother, consider to be safe.

So, just when I was feeling pretty good about the accepting wildlife around here, I glanced out the front window. I saw something moving in what was once a flower bed. I haven't gotten around to that either this year.

Ironically, it was the deer population that ate all my flowers, raccoons, squirrels, and armadillos to name a few, that dug out tulip bulbs and a myriad other plants, that have changed this into just a bunch of overgrown unidentified plants.

When I first saw something moving, I thought it might be our cat, Timi. She likes to hang out in the Russian Sage plants. It makes her smell nice. But then I saw those unmistakable ears. I had to get a little closer. It was another fawn, just lying in the weeds, chillin'.

I'd seen a baby romping with her mother within the last couple days. I wondered if we had one or two little ones around. Now I know.

So the backyard fawn is Hannah. The front yard fawn is Dawn fawn. As I crept a little closer to her, she bolted. Dawn fawn will not allow petting. I doubt Hannah would either anymore. They have probably both been instructed by prospective Mom Deer to stay away from the crazy stalker lady with the camera. I'm sure she tells them to just pose and be cute, but don't let her touch you again!

That's OK, I've had my thrill as noted in a previous account of getting to pet Hannah. I'm happy now, but have no idea if I will ever be able to have flowers again. Time will tell.

I'm a little bit country, and more so every day

I admit, it isn't always easy to adapt to being a country girl, but it is so worth it.

Yesterday, I was thrilled to watch a doe with her newborn fawn scampering around in the backyard. In fact, I shot a video to mark the momentous event.

I watched until the fawn lay down at the base of an old cedar tree, right in the backyard. I could see it from most of the windows of the house, and certainly from the deck.

She looked to be sleeping quietly as her mother went off into the woods. I named her Hannah.

This morning, I went to check to see if Hannah was still there. She was. I knew how young she was, so I was worried that she was no longer alive. Upon closer inspection, I realized that she was breathing.

Since I know nothing about newborn fawns whose mother is nowhere to be seen. I watched her mother give a glance over her shoulder as she bounded into the brush. That was the last I saw of her.

Not knowing what to do, I sought out advice from the Internet. I learned that what I was seeing was not uncommon. Often times mothers will leave their fawns for as many as 12 hours while they eat and sleep. I feel good knowing the doe entrusted her baby to the crazy lady on the deck with a camera. If she is the doe I suspect she is, she knows I am harmless. She has seen me aim my viewfinder her way many times.

As noted, I checked to see if Hannah had a scab over her umbilical cord. She did. I didn't need that to tell me she was a newborn however. It was pretty obvious that she was brand new to this beautiful world in which we live. I lifted her tail--no problem there. She had no puncture wounds and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

As I was performing my cursory examination, I took the opportunity to faun a little over this adorable fawn, petting her soft coat and touching the many spots on this beautiful, perfect, little creature. I didn't think once about how annoyed I get when the deer in the neighborhood decimate my vegetable garden and eat all my flowers. Instead I was mesmerized by the sheer wonder of this tiny critter.

Just as we were starting to bond, our resident mama cat, Timi happened by. Hannah must have been startled because she got up on those long, skinny, and unsteady legs In a blink of an eye, they not only held her upright, but she almost gracefully leaped away. She entered the woods at about the last place I saw her mother. Perhaps she is going back to her birth location. I hope so. I just hope her mother finds her and nurtures her. She deserves no less.

I hate not knowing what will become of her. No doubt I will be a nervous wreck until I see her romping around with her mother once more, as it should be.

Stuff happens; and sometimes that is a good thing

This morning, I heard the doorbell ring. When I went to answer, a young man asked if I needed any tree trimming done.

My mind raced as I thought about the tree that not only sprawls over the bedrooms of the house. Some of its branches actually scrape the roof. It has been a concern of mine for some time, especially with the storms we have been having of late.

It also poses a danger to our heat pump/air conditioner. In the winter, ice on the branches falls into the motor and causes it to seize. We've enjoyed that expense more than once.

Needless to say, I had been thinking for some time that we needed to do something about this.

While there is always a danger in hiring people you don't know, there was something about this guy. For some reason I had a good feeling about him. We chatted for a little while about what needed to be done with this tree. We agreed that its proximity to the house and other trees would make falling it a little tricky. We decided that a good trimming would work just as well. So, I said, let's do it.

I couldn't be more pleased. I will be happy to call Ben Frost next time I need work done. He and his partner did an excellent job and at a reasonable cost.

They trimmed the branches, cleaned the gutter, and swept the roof.

Now for the icing on the cake. There are no low hanging branches for the squirrels to use to get to my backyard birdfeeder, via the roof.

If only house painters, bathroom re-modelers, power washers, and flooring experts would ring the doorbell, I could rest easy.

Must be Spring!

So here we go again...

Love the American Goldfinch

Here's lookin' at you!

All good things must come to an end! :-(

Mundane chores or as I like to call it, bonding with my kitchen...

Sometimes, the same ole thing just gets boring. That was the case with my same ole, same ole dishes.

I decided it was time for a change. I was finally going to replace these clear glass dishes and the chipped black stoneware ones with a matching set. I ordered eight small square plates and eight bowls. I could have purchased an entire set, but didn't want the cups or the large plate, so I just ordered them individually. They are very pretty--red and black. 

While dishes may not seem like an important part of your life, think about all the times you look at them. There are all those meals; breakfast, lunch, and dinner, ever day. How many times do you wash the same old dishes, over and over again? Sometimes I wash them by hand, but mostly I use the dishwasher, loading and unloading day after day.

The dishes hold all the leftovers. They are sometimes vessels for cat food or they can hold tiny nuts and screws when I'm trying to fix something and have to take things apart. I've used these dishes to death. It is time for a change.

I'm a little ahead of myself. I actually have parts of two sets of dishes that I use everyday. Ours is an eclectic household.

One set of our dishes is older than the other. One contains dinner plates, salad plates, bowls, and cups that we've used for so long I can't even remember where they came from. They are clear glass, yet have been very durable. Replacement pieces can be found at garage sales and stores like Walmart and Target. I guess that is why we still have at least a serving for eight. For two people, that may sound a little excessive, but I'm not so sure it is. Thinking back, we used those dishes when are kids were still home. That was a long time ago.

A few years ago, we came across a real bargain--an interesting set of black square dishes that both my husband and I really liked. They were dirt cheap, a service for four, which seems to be how most dishes are sold nowadays. Isn't it funny how the price for four is now what it used to cost for eight? At any rate, we started using these new, pretty, stoneware dishes. We found that we liked square plates better than round ones, though I'm not sure why. We used the salad plates regularly because the dinner plates were just too huge. Of the entire set, the only thing we really used were the four salad plates. They were just the right size for us.

There were only two bowls with the set. I don't know if there were two that had broken, or if there were only supposed to be two. We don't use them however, because they are way too big for one serving size of cereal or salad. There were four cups too, but again, they were huge. Because they are stoneware, a whole cup of coffee would be too heavy to hold comfortably.

The bottom line is that we were still using many of the pieces of clear glass dishes; we used the bowls, salad plates, and cups. Admittedly, when I didn't do the dishes in time, we were relegated to using the old round clear dinner plates.

They came this week. Lo and behold, the plates are much smaller than I had hoped. I ended up ordering the large plates after all. They will arrive next week and we will finally have matching dishes once again.

I wanted a nice, clean place to put them, so I ended spending the morning cleaning cabinets. One thing led to another, resulting in a little spring cleaning. I cleaned and rearranged most of the cabinets in the kitchen, moved some things around, throwing away some unnecessary junk and filling a box for a future garage sale. I even cleaned off the top of the refrigerator, a place my 5'2" self never sees. That was epic in itself. That led to cleaning out the refrigerator, and making a few salads we can enjoy in the coming days.

Funny how one thing leads to another, including organizing the spice cabinet. I wonder how hard it will be to find things in my new, improved kitchen?

I worked hard today, but bonding with my kitchen was good and satisfying. Thank you Springtime, for the added burst of energy and enthusiasm that always happens at this time of year.

Simplify

One word exemplifies my philosophy; simplify.

Though I already was a plant-lover, maintaining about 30 of my own house plants in what was then my small apartment,  I learned so much from this man, whose shows I never missed. When John and I bought our first home, I couldn't wait to plant a garden.

This isn't new for me now that I'm in the autumn of my life. I've never claimed to be a minimalist; that is, I really like 'my stuff,' as the late, great George Carlin often joked about all the worldly possessions a person gathers in a lifetime, in one of what I consider the funniest stand-up routines ever. But I do prefer a simple life.

I have never figured that bigger was better. It is just bigger. I've never liked the drama even though I rather enjoy problem-solving. I do not like, and will sidestep at every turn, creating them.

I had an epiphany this morning, as I was watering my plants. There could hardly be a more simple task. But this Tuesday morning, with no plans for the day except to get caught up on some chores--at my own pace--, and the sun shining brightly through the windows, I realized how much joy I felt in doing this simple task.

My life has been complicated of late, not of my own doing. So, those simple, moments of pure joy, mean all the more.

I have always been a hobbyist of some sort, whether it be quilting, crocheting, writing, or whatever. I have always loved plants. I suppose it is in my DNA.

My mother had house plants. My father liked to garden. When I was very young and my grandmother would steal me away to spend the weekend with her at her spacious three-flat in Chicago, it was always my job to water her plants. I guess you could say my thumb has history of being green.

Grandma had lots of cacti and other succulents. My mother had beautiful African Violets. I love them all. With the exception of the Bermuda grass that invades my gardens outside, I love everything that grows.

When John and I got married, we honeymooned in Florida. On a Saturday morning I was watching television; it was an episode of Crockett's Victory Garden on PBS. It was the first time I had seen it, and was immediately hooked. I fell in love with Jim Crockett and so admired his gardens and method of sharing everything he knew about raising both indoor and outdoor plants.


I also liked to grow roses. I recall one day a lady walked by. I was outside pulling some weeds when she stopped by to admire my roses. They really were incredible, although I don't think I had very much to do with that. I had purchased nine hybrid tea roses from Jackson & Perkins. A cold killed them the next winter, but they were lovely. I haven't bought a rose since then. Perhaps I should give it another try.

Whatever the endeavor, I believe it is the simple things that bring the most pleasure. So, the word of the day, every day, for me is "simplify."