ABC Wednesday
March 27th, 2013

The letter is K

Not the easiest letter when you are looking for something botanical that begins with K

Here is Kalkwitzia Amabilis

 

most commonly known as a Beauty Bush

 

Amabilis means 'lovely' and it is a most apt descriptive name

 

A Chinese shrub of the Honeysuckle family

the bush was twice discovered in Central China, - once by the Jesuit

Missionary Giuseppe Giraldi in Shensi, and then in western

Hubei province by E.H. 'Chinese' Wilson, who was collecting for Veitch Nurseries.

 

It was named for Richard Kolkwitz, a professor of botany in Berlin.

 

The shrub was first grown in the Veitch Nurseries in 1901

and became very popular in the U.S. following World War 1,

almost a defining shrub in American gardens between the World Wars.

 

The flowers are pinkish, with yellow throats and very fragrant.

It is attractive to bees, butterflies and birds.

The fruit is bristly, which proves, I guess, that you can't have everything!

 

In full sun the shrub will grow 8-10 feet tall,  requiring a fair amount of space

as the branches are very arching.

It is propogated by soft wood cuttings, and I would love to find one of these

lovely shrubs and try a soft wood cutting!  I would put it in the corner of the back garden

and it could have all the space it wanted.........

 

Here is a close-up of the beautiful bell shaped flowers,

which grow in pairs.

 

 

For more K's go here, to ABC Wednesday

and thank you to all who work with this wonderful meme.

If I had my druthers.....

If I had my druthers the room at the end of the hallway would still be Charles' dressing-room-cum-small-workshop, but alas, that is not to be.....

And so today two of the sons and a son-in-law wriggled the loom out of the travel trailer where Charles and I had deposited it some years ago, put it in the back of Frank's pick-up and while I was at the church doing Bulletins for tomorrow's Palm Sunday service, they marched it up the back stairs and had it all assembled, even with the warp still on it and in good order when I got home.

Thank you so much, fellows....

 

I have a studio again!!!

 

The last entry in my weaving journal, written on July 1st, 2008. reads;

 

"Have given up Glimakra - it is at Sharons - not yet put together.  Still have the Le Clerc - it is in storage in the Quonset hut, but there is a spot for it in the trailer where most weaving equipment resides.

 

I am once again encouraged to weave by my inner self - the energy quotient is considerably less, but there are things I want to do while I still can.  Starting with the table loom (not the Dorothy) and all the silk blouses I have been saving.

 

Look up recipe for rag bags - (Ruth Blau's honeycomb) and start making silken strips''

 

I did do that, - the Le Clerc did make the trip from the Quonset Hut to the Trailer, 

and I did start to make small silk mats, but then we moved, and Charles' mobility reached the stage where he couldn't just slide into a pair of trousers and throw on a shirt and jacket, - it was instead a painful operation for him to dress, to put on socks and shoes, and he needed a place to call his own -

a cave where he could fiddle and sort and read and think

and one does what one must.

 

I know he would be pleased to see the Le Clerc in operation again.  He was such a part of the weaving operation, making sectional warp beams for both the Glimakra and the Le Clerc

and so many other creative additions to the looms and the weaving equipment. 

 

His dream was to make an automatic fly shuttle for the countermarche, but time flew by instead

and  the years weren't long enough to realize all the dreams.

 

I see him smiling at my pleasure today.

 

 

 

 

How lucky I was to be married sixty-seven years to such a lovely man!!

My dear DIL, Nicola, came yesterday and did magical things with my computer, so that now I am Wireless (is that the same as being Clueless?) and I am able to use Charles' laptop here at the kitchen table, while my toast toasts and my egg boils merrily in its little flowered china jar.which I resurrected when I changed my breakfast menu.

I even cut my toast into soldiers, and dip them, something my darling husband was not familiar with, not having had an English mother.  I am afraid, he didn't entirely approve of the practice!!!!!!

March is doing its 'Lion' act today, - very damp, chilly and windy.  I will confine my gardening to writing in my journal and  replanting the lily bulbs I rescued from the garden on the hill to bloom  in tandem with the blaze rose that grows against the garden shed.

                                           

I'm off to discover what precious rich earth lies in wait for me at the bottom of the compost bin to make the lily bulbs feel at home in this sparse soil here in town.  And to see what progress the daffodils are making........

If the weather improves tomorrow will see another couple of hours in battle with the cutch grass and the Chinese Railroad Line that have made themselves at home - even throwing great parties at times, I suspect, - up there in the old garden.   It does, however, just seem to ignore this neglect and is springing up with great energy and promise, glorious in this wild March weather.

I am reminded of D..H. Lawrence and The Enkindled Spring.

 

This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,

Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes,

Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between

Where the wood fumes up and the watery, flickering rushes.

I am amazed at this spring, this conflagration
Of green fires lit on the soil of the earth, this blaze
of growing, and sparks that puff in wild gyration,
Faces of people streaming across my gaze.

And I, what fountain of fire am I among
This leaping combustion of spring?  My spirit is tossed
About like a shadow buffeted in the throng
Of flames, a shadow that's gone astray, and is lost.

 

 

Wednesday, March 20th, 2013

ABC Wednesday

The letter this week is J

 

 

The lovely, romantic Jasmine seems a perfect choice for J.

 

 

A cherished Valentine present in 2012

 

Jasmine - its name derived from the Persian 'Yasameen', meaning Gift of God.

 

It has the most compelling and enticing fragrance

 

The National Flower of Hawaii, Indonesia, Pakistan and the Phillippines

 

Jasmine has great cultural importance in the East

 

being used in marriage rituals, festivals, religious ceremonies

 

and in the home

 

Used often as a hair ornament, - tucked behind the ear or in a braid

 

its lovely fragrance is pleasant to both the wearer

 

and the passer-by

 

 

 

 

for more takes on the letter J visit here, at ABC Wednesday.

 

A Sunday Drive

Scooped up by David and Nicola we took the old familiar path towards the Lower Similkameen, around by Ginty's pond, through the meadows and the orchards, where the sap is beginning to rise, the grass grows greener every day, the willows glow in the sunlight, the little black angus calves frolic close by, and down by the pond the shrubs don the soft, subtle shades of spring.

Over the bank, perched on a railing, we spied a large bird, - a golden eagle, said David, and certainly it bore all the signs of that magnificent bird, and this is not called Eagle Valley for nothing. We watched as it sat silently, quietly.

 

I caught it with the camera as it flew low across the meadow. a great large shadowy span, pale against the stubbly earth and the patches of burnt grass that had reached on to the grass from the burning of the bullrushes that clog the creek running alongside the road.  Can you see it, centre left? Perhaps if you were to enlarge the picture....

The upper pond was clear and reflective - a few ducks swam between the branches mirrored on the water. 

 

 

 

 

The lower pond, which held no water in the fall when Charles and I visited. was beginning to fill again. No turtles, no raccoons, but away at the end a pair of nesting ducks, and another couple swimming their way into the remnants of the rushes.

 

 

The remains of last year's corn crop lie waiting to be folded into the ground to feed next year's cobs, or to br taken away for composting

David captured a picture of K Mountain, not as silent as it looks as spring break-up tumbles rocks down the talus slides that give the mountain its name.

We finished the lovely afternoon with an early dinner at the Thai Restaurant in town, and I felt refreshed and somehow comforted by memories of the times before that we have lingered here and there along the so familiar route, the so familiar scenes.

As I write dark clouds gather over the valley, touched in the west by the sun dodging between them on its way along the rim of the hills.  The catkins on the hazel nut tree outside my window stretch out long and golden and my heart feels a little lighter, even though the forecast for tomorrow is for stormy weather and wild March winds in the afternoon.

In the morning I have plans to go once again to the garden on the hill, as I did this morning.  Under the fall debris those amazing scarlet buds poke through the rich black earth, and the daffodils have pushed aside fall's sodden leaves, grown tall and straight and true and any minute now will burst into glorious bloom.

I snipped at the forsythia and brought home enough to brighten up the Church this coming Palm Sunday before the darker days of Holy Week. - there should be daffodils galore for Easter.

ABC Wednesday
March 13th, 2013

The letter this week is I

And after I have thought about the lovely Iris, about which /who I have written before, my mind is immediately  full of the sweet, delicate

 

 Icelandic poppy

 

They grow prolifically wherever I scatter wildflower seeds. and come back to bring colour and pleasure to the garden each year. 

 

What could be more graceful than a bed of fragile poppies blowing in a warm summer breeze!!!!!

They have a lovely innocence about them, and together with blue batchelor buttons and little white popcorn flowers they make a perfect picture.

 

 

For more Is visit here, at ABC Wednesday, with thanks to all who are involved with this fascinating meme and to Mrs. Nesbitt who first created it.

ABC Wednesday
March 6th, 2013

The letter this week is H, and continuing on the flower theme I considered Heliotrope, Hydrangea, Hibisucus, Hyacinth and Honeysuckle, - all lovely, and some a bit exotic.

But then I thought of the Hollyhock, memories of which stretch back to my very early childhood when they lined the walk along the side of the small bungalow we lived in when I was still very young.

They served as 'ball gowns' for a clover head when Anne and I dressed our bevy of belles for an imaginary fairy ball in the greenery at the bottom of the garden and somehow managed to inveigle their way into my heart  - I have a great fondness for The Hollyhock, which has never really been allowed to blossom.

Somehow my love of Hollyhocks was not part of the gene pool and never got passed on to other members of the family who all concentrated on its invasive aspects and its inclination to develop rusty leaves around the hemline.

When we first moved to the farm I envisaged a mass of stately hollyhocks lining the long driveway to the house we had built at the foot of the mountain, but somehow the practicalities of raising a family and coping with all the (pleasureable) demands of a farm didn't leave me with enough enthusiasm for my dream to innoculate the children or  'himself '.

But we have always had a few hollyhocks in the garden, humble as they are in everybody else's opinion, and I am thinking how wonderful they would be along the fenceline in the back garden to provide privacy, and how their beautiful colours and lofty spires would blend in with the sunflowers which are also de rigueur. 

What do you think?

 

For more interesting Hs visit here at ABC Wednesday, and be entertained and educated.

White Rabbits

Did I remember to say White Rabbits this morning, – well of course I did, even before I opened my eyes…..we need all the good luck we can get ! 





The snow from the roof next door to my bedroom window gradually disappears, revealing tons of walnuts that got caught in the first blizzard, before they could fall in between our houses, eager to spend the winter in the garage, ripening and drying.  Now they are fair game for the Clark’s Nutcracker and the Flickers, and an occasional Jay, – a wonderful spring treat after a winter of pine cones….

March is meek and mild this morning, if a trifle misty and overcast, but I see a few rays of sunshine in the East, and perhaps the weatherman was right in saying the Similkameen would be sunny all day. 

I will snatch a couple of hours in the back garden, attending to some of the tidying that got neglected last fall, and just luxuriating in being outside where the air is fresh and all around me are signs of new growth, – promises of tender green leaves, spring flowers, and roses calling urgently to be pruned.

I’m off to be mesmerized by burgeoning buds and the enthusiasm of new bulb shoots, – 2 inches tall, then 3 inches tall and now, suddenly six inches of yellow-green rockets on their way to heavenly days…..

All pictures this morning from Google - no time to search the archives - only have a couple of hours outside before I go to represent a woman of France in a lemon yellow scarf at the World Day of Prayer this afternoon.

ABC Wednesday; February 27th, 2013

The letter this week is the Great G

G is for Gypsophila, 'a genus of about 100 species of flowering plants in the family Caryophyllaceae, native to Europe, Asia and North Africa'  (Google)

But today we will consider only one species that is familiar to all, - Gypsophila Paniculata, or Baby's Breath.

What would the florist industry ever do without these wonderful clouds of tiny white flowers to enhance their bouquets?

Inclined to be invasive Baby's Breath grows famously on  dry, sandy, stony soil, and there is a portion of the highway between Keremeos and Olalla where at certain times of the year the roadside ditches are filled with these beautiful white fairy flowers, escaped from an abandoned commercial enterprise on adjoining fields.

One of our sons has a most prolific patch  of four foot high gypsophila perfectly content to be growing in the dry soil up against his steel plant,  always available for quick bouquets, either fresh or dried.

 

My favourites are the Bristol Fairy

 

and the lovely double pink Rosenschleier

 

The pictures are all borrowed from the Internet,  alas 

 

For more Great Gs click here to visit ABC Wednesday.

created by Mrs. Nesbitt and currently maintained  by

Roger!

This and That



I thought I might go for a walk today, now that the snow is disappearing, - melting, evaporating!  The roads and sidewalks are dry and although the sun wasn't shining the thermometer was saying good things about the temperature outside.

I was restless all day, as I often am when I know someone in the family is on the road, and today it was our youngest son who was going back to the Meadow in the Cariboo after having had surgery at the beginning of February.

So I picked up the mail keys, and hearkened to the voice that said 'have you got your cane' - gave Callie a handful of food to keep her happy while I was gone, and made off down the road.

However, by the time I got to the mailbox I realized that little bit of breeze that was making the branches sway was not the spring breeze I had imagined, but a bitterly cold wind, blowing right off the mountain tops where the snow is still ten feet deep!  Or thereabouts.....

Well, I think I will wait until it is warmer to walk, or at least until Winter is not blowing cold puffs down the valley.   I came home and put the kettle on, played a bit of music, sat for half and hour and spun a half a bobbin of lllama wool, finding I was somewhat out of practise and it is going to be a thick and thin skein when I get it finished.   Just right for a warm toque.

 

 

 

I took some pictures of small pots of hyacinths that came home with me from the garden shop last week, and have begun to blossom - some dainty grape hyacinth and two pots of lovely fat pink spring blooms;  brushed Callie for a bit as she begins to lose her winter coat and gets more sleek, - I won't say slender as she is really quite plump and matronly looking these days, loath to go out and exercise until the weather warms up.

Vincent phoned from Cache Creek, - good - a third of the way home.....

I wandered into the computer room and tried once again to get Diane Gabaldon's small novelette about Sir John on to my Kobo, and became thoroughly frustrated...... 

There was only a half a glass of sherry in the cupboard, - just enough to last me through the news, and then it was time to think of supper.  Some nights when I think of supper I am inspired to do something different and perhaps even exotic.  Some nights it is just an omelet, but tonight I had wonderful leftovers from the dinner  our daughter-in-law cooked in my kitchen Saturday night, while our oldest son entertained us with his 'cocktail bar' piano music.

I wrote a little in my journal about this 'empty, restless' day and then the phone rang, and Vincent was in Williams Lake, just an hour from home.  And the phone rang again, and it was our youngest daughter, whose day had been lonely too, so we cheered each other with love and bits of gossip,  And so it goes......

Tomorrow the sun will shine and I will see if I can burrow down under the snow and discover what is happening with bulbs and violets and early spring movements under the icy covering that lies beneath the snow.

Vincent has made it to the Meadow, - everyone happy to see him there!

Almost time for bed, and some lovely music that takes the place of pillow talk, as I drift off........

Here are some catkins and pussy willows that sit at the front window to cheer your wintry hearts.

A poignant evening

Last evening was poignant, yes, - but heart warming.

Dinner with family and then on to receive the Queen's Diamond Jubilee medal awarded post humously to Charles for the enormous amount of volunteer work he did in the comunity, and provincially, in the fields of Agriculture and Education and with the Royal Canadian Legion.

Only one of 60,000 awarded, but we were proud and felt it was well deserved!!

We all dressed appropriately, hoping to set an example for the Justin Beiber's of the world who are terribly nonchalant about the whole thing and appear at the presentation in baggy overalls with cap worn backwards!!!  I wore Charles' silver wings on my lapel and carried his cane.

In the excitement the pictures went all blurry, but here is one for the record.

I think that Charles, along with many other veterans, felt a special affinity with the Princess Elizabeth who drove an ambulance while they fought the war in different theatres, - Charles as a Lancaster Pilot.

It is all such a long time ago now, but while he was in the grip of that dreadful and fatal  post-op delirium and it was hard to know what paths he was treading in his mind, Charles sat up in bed and said,  loudly and clearly,  "God Save the Queen", a last thought for a comrade in arms who has a special place in the lives of veterans of the Second World War. 

Was he there last night in spirit?  I am inclined to make that great leap of faith that allows me to believe that the soul has a life of its own;  a mystery that will only be made clear when we make that journey that requires us to pack nothing, only go as we are to where we are sent, to paraphrase Mary Oliver in the Epilogue to her book, 'Thirst' (which sits nearby and brings me comfort when I am sad.)

Enough musing, - I must go and make some dinner buns.....

ABC Wednesday, February 20th, 2013

The letter this week is F

How about the sweet Forget-me-not !!



A lovely and appealing spring flower, – a touch of blue sky reflected in the garden among the June peonies and lilies and daisies.

The official flower of the State of Alaska, the Provinces of Newfoundland and Labrador and a poignant choice for the Altzheimer Society.

The Forget-me-not was also adopted by Masonic Lodges in Germany during the Second World War,  in place of the official Masonic crest which was subject to great persecution during those difficult years.

Henry lV  of England cherished the forget-me-not as his emblem after his exile in 1398 and it is said that when God was naming the flowers in the Garden of Eden he overlooked this small blue flower, and as he prepared to leave he heard a plaintive voice at his feet, reminding him that he had forgotten to give it a name.  God said, ‘I have forgotten you once, but I will not forget you again, – Forget-me-not shall be your name.’

The flower stands for loyalty, friendship, love and fidelity, – the only really unpleasant thing about it is that the leaves taste quite nasty, but you weren’t going to eat the leaves anyway, were you?

In literature Tolkein was also drawn to the Forget-me-not and it is associated with Tom Bombadil in his Hobbit /Ring stories.

 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow had this to say about it, -

Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of Heaven

Blossom the lovely flowers, the forget-me-nots of the angels.

 

A sweet, romantic boutonniere

 

For more F’s click here to visit ABC Wednesday

thanks to Mrs. Nesbitt and the unforgettable  Roger

Sprriiing!

Five merry robins in their scarlet vests, rejoicing in the branches of the Mountain Ash;  the constant drip of the melting snow coming through the drain pipe, softly gurgling  and requiring a vigilant eye to keep emptied the small pail it splashes into;  the emergence of walnuts on the roof next door as the snow gradually retreats from the peak,  and the industry of the Nut Crackers and Flickers as they scoop up the opportunity to fill their little tummies.

And underneath the snow that got piled on the flower bed in the back yard, green leaves, blossoming hellebore, tender bulb stubs reaching upwards, ever upwards.

I bring down my garden diary from the shelf and draft new beds – speak to the minister of the community church who is also the source of wonderful composty  (full of couch grass, alas) top soil from his feed lot, and think about what other peonies and iris and poppies need to be  divided up in the Hillside Garden, and where I will l put them in the new beds.  We shall have an English Garden again!!


Occasionally the sky clears.  The sun travels well above the ridge of the mountain top.   At night the waxing moon is seen through the trees that lie to the west, and sometimes there are tender pink clouds in the east before the greyness envelopes us once again.

I look at the tangled climbers, and wonder who will prune Charles’ roses to his satisfaction, – it will have to be someone who takes directions from ‘on high’, so to speak!

The sweetness of the pussy willow sends me scurrying for the clippers – I clip a few, along with some branches from the red willow, the hazelnut tree, and the japonica, hoping they will add some fresh tender leaves to the winter greenery.

 

 

The air is warm and the breeze is gentle, and all this whispers SPRING and is a wonderful, wonderful distraction .