In my world, every day is Earth Day
Thursday, April 19, 2012
It was such a mild winter that the camellias were fooled into believing that Furball Cottage had moved south. The three bushes in back and the one in front exploded in a riot of cool reds and hot pinks; so many blossoms that the boughs bent down to the ground. Last Sunday, with temperatures close to 90 degrees in April, some of the branches came into the house to fill an old glass vase with their overblown beauty. It was the best way to admire their spectacular show and to make sure that at least some of them would survive a little longer without the bruising and burning of the hot, unseasonal sun. Drought has set in. Who knows what next year will be like. In the meantime, here they are, in all their splendor, filling the room with unequaled beauty.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Arisaema sikokianum. Welcome to Furball Cottage, Miss Arisaema, as I'd given up on you. For three years I checked under the white pine close to the 'wet spot' and nothing happened. Then yesterday, while on groundhog patrol, I stumbled upon you. Asian arums bloom earlier than the natives and you are an exotic wonder. I'm hoping no creature will find you yummy and that you will give me many years of happy surprises. Thank you for agreeing to live and bloom at Furball Cottage.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
One of the benefits of being involved with the Philadelphia International Flower Show is the goodies friends and fellow gardeners share during the week. Too much of one thing? No problem, I can take some home with me. This time it was a tray of little clay pots planted with succulents. Brought seven home and placed them on the sunny porch in balmy weather. As it's cooled down considerably, I've been able to use the glass cloches I bough a bazillion years ago and most of the time are just garden decoration. Glad I never got rid of them. A gardener is always a hoarder by necessity and disposition.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Did you know? Is it true? Does it really mean that?
Chaste tree. I know. It's true. And it really means that. Yerba Luisa is the name I knew when I lived in my little tropical island. The tradition is that a new bride receives a plant started from a slip from the bush her mother-in-law received from her mother-in-law and so on and so forth. Planted by the front or back door, the beauty of the flowers is testimony to the beauty of the marriage. Get it? Your tree'd better be looking good... Wonderful fragrant pinnated leaves, flower spikes that look like sprinkles from heaven. My Greek neighbor explained that in her hilly country women place branches under their mattresses so that their husbands don't wander. Another matrimonial tradition half around the world. Grab a handful of leaves early in the morning, crush them and rub the perfumed bunch on your arms and neck and you will be lucky for the rest of the day. Don't ask, just do it.
- Moorestown, New Jersey, United States
- Let's talk about our gardens. Let's talk about all the flowers and critters that thrive within the confines of our personal paradises. Let's talk about those we love and love us back, although once in a while they scratch us and make us bleed a little. Just to remind us that we are alive. Those roses and cats and people that thrive in our gardens... How important... How important they are...
- ▼ April (7)