Bits and pieces

Today I am home for lunch - Wednesday's appointment with the audiologist culminated in lunch in Penticton, and afterwards an ice cream cone of mammoth proportions, even though it was a senior-size.   I can remember my Father giving me a nickel  (five cents) to run around in the evening to the local grocer for a cone, - top price at the ice cream emporium Wednesday was $9.65!!!!

Yesterday I had a lovely prawn stir-fry with a good friend, - the restaurant was packed with residents from Orchard Haven, the local senior's care facility, so we had lots of time to chat while we waited for our order.

Today, as soon as the Apricot Pies are out of the oven I am off to shop, and who knows what the local Deli might have on special!  Whatever it is I will probably bring it home for a quick, cool lunch

Yesterday it was 105 degrees F in the shade - I am not complaining about blue skies and sunshine, but it does call for a judicious use of the air conditioner and a little conservation of energy during the hot afternoon.  The sunflowers are reaching, but not yet in bloom.  Below the yellow daisies raise great paeans to the sun, and in contrast the purity of the white phlox.

 

 

 

 

Callie and I stretch out in one of the reclining chairs.  She sleeps and I read.  Well, sometimes I sleep too, - cat naps I think they are called.  At bed time I have been reading  Joyce Carol Oates 'Memoirs of a Widow'.  Is this a good idea?  Well, I'm not sure.  I have great sympathy for her in her lack of family to offer love and support and our circumstances are somewhat different, but at the core of the matter isn't it the same loss for all widows, the depth of which can only be realized when you must embrace it bravely yourself.

In the afternoon I have been reading, amongst other books I pick up and put down,  more of Chris Arthur's essays.  I am entranced with his vocabulary, his imagination and his interpretation of the most ordinary things of life.

I read for a while.  Perhaps I nod off, - usually I rise long before 6 o'clock and am in the garden shortly after to tend to the water and the weeds.  Today I investigated with dismay the number of stops the Chinese Lantern Underground Railway is making through the raised bed . A cup of coffee, the early morning coolness and the birds greeting the new day (which I now can hear) waken my spirits, but the early hour lends itself to a sleepy afternoon.

Sometime during the afternoon I will wander down to the loom room and do a few inches of threading, - it is not a wide warp I am putting on the loom but the speed with which I used to thread the heddles is interrupted by my back whining, quietly but persistently.

Here is a picture I snapped out of the side window as we made our way home from Penticton Wednesday, - this is how a great majority of the visitors to the Okanagan spend their lovely warm holiday afternoons - under a plethora of colourful umbrellas.  And I remember it as being just lovely, with the children building sandcastles, in and out of the water, splashing and so pleased to be spending a day at the beach.  Unfortunately all the pictures from those days were taken with a movie camera, and so they aren't available to post without a lot of messing around, but they are bright in my mind!

Duke Ellington - Don't Get Around Much Anymore

Just saying.....

 

An old favourite of ours!

B stand for Barnstorming

ABC Wednesday

The letter is B, and B stands for Barnstorming,

as it was in the early days of aviation, and as it is now, with relevance to political  activity.

When I was a small child I remember standing with my parents and their friends on the second story balcony of a house that skirted the small airport in Edmonton, watching an airshow, -  that popular form of entertainment in the 1920's in which stunt pilots would perform tricks with airplanes. 

Sometimes it might be an individual, and sometimes it was a group of pilots who would present what was called a Flying Circus.

And sometimes they would offer rides to inhabitants of the small towns where they were performing.

Most barnstorming shows would begin with a pilot, or group of pilots, flying over a small rural town to attract attention.  After landing at a local farm and negotiating with the farmer for the use of one of his fields as a temporary runway (hence the name Barnstorming), they would then drop leaflets over the adjoining town, advertising the show.  It is said that in many cases the whole town would shut down to come and watch this new and exciting entertainment.

And it was exciting - Barnstormers would perform a variety of stunts and acrobatic maneuvers, involving spins, dives, loop-the-loops and barrel rolls, while aerialists would perform feats of wing walking, midair plane transfers, and Google says even playing tennis, target shooting or dancing while on the plane's wings.  I don't remember seeing any of that, but I do remember some family association with bush pilots, (and their off spring) as Edmonton was a great aviation centre during the twenties and thirties, and became known as the Gateway to the North when the entertainment aspect of the industry evolved into mapping of the north, mercy flights into northern communities, and eventually mail service and transportation.

Politically Barnstorming is defined as a campaign or speaking tour, making brief stops in many small towns, - a practice which seems to reach a particular frenzy towards the end of a political campaign and as the day for the vote draws near....

For more interesting takes on the letter B hop on over to ABC Wednesday here, with thanks to Denise Nesbitt, Roger and all other blogging helpers who make this meme so popular.

The fresh morning air and other comments

Up early, flinging open all the doors and windows to refresh the house.  Outside, breathing deeply, watering all the pots, looking lovingly on the nicotinia that now has about a dozen blooms, - enough to scent the evening air with its sweet and spicy fragrance. 

 Looking askance at the lawn mower, - is it too early to cut the front lawn?  Even a reel mower will waken sleeping neighbours - but it's so hot later on. 

 

Remembering the neighbor who starting spraying at 5 a.m. and how Charles would clutch his brow in dismay that the machine still whined and roared because of some mechanical failure that the neighbor never fixed. - I determine to cut the lawn a little later, after breakfast.....

 

We are in the midst of a mini heat wave, - the weatherman's icons show only hot orange suns for the next five days, with temperatures in the mid thirties, centigrade.  Probably one should add three or four degrees to get an accurate reading in the Similkameen.... 

 

Everything outdoors gets done in the morning 

 

In the house I wait until the very last minute to close the doors and turn on the air conditioning, and use it minimally.  I am very ambivalent about air conditioning, - grateful for a cool house to return to if I have been out in the blazing sun but prepared to put up with above normal house temperatures to avoid the drying effects of artificial cooling.  Yet always mindful of our good fortune that at the click of a button we can turn on cooling air in this semi desert country..

 

It is high summer!  The beaches are packed with brown bodies and umbrellas, and the highways are a terror at any time of the day.  In the Okanagan the campgrounds are packed with holiday trailers, side by each, and there is a friendly feeling of all-being-in-this-together-and-isn't it-fun! 

Well, it is mainly fun, but a sad day here on the river yesterday, when a young man became pinned under some rocks in the water and drowned.  It seems that each day drownings are part of the news, and motor vehicle accidents, and sometimes I think of the days before we all became so affluent and mobile,  flitting here and there up and down the highways on every long weekend, and were content to stay at home on the long, cool verandah, sipping lemonade and mint juleps.  And the children slept in tents out on the back lawn because life was safe and civilized.......and Charles used to tell of days when he was young when they would leave home after breakfast and not return until supper time, having spent the days in the hills or at the beach,

 and nobody had to worry about their whereabouts and safety.

 

Oh my, I am beginning to sound like a cranky old lady, hot and harried.

 

If I can find my electric frying pan (which I haven't seen since we moved) I am off to make Welsh cakes for tea this afternoon for my son who was 67 yesterday and my DIL who has a day off from her restaurant.  He was reluctant to make the journey to this world, - ten days late, most of which I spent under a big cherry tree, trying to stay cool in a July that was every bit as hot as this one, - but I was so much younger!!!!!

 

When I finally hit the labour room I spent a delusional day in the company of

an old Indian who sat in a corner on a chair, and I have often wondered about

this since, - the site of the old hospital

 was a camping ground for First Nations people

before the White Man came, - did he know I needed comforting?

 

Margaret Ritchie's Welsh Cakes

 

2 cups sifted flour

3 tsps. baking powder
1/2 to 2/3 cups granulated sugar

pinch of salt

1 1/2 cups currants softened in water and patted dry

1 tsp vanilla

2 eggs, beaten

 

Mix dry ingredients and sift.  Cut in butter to a coarse meal.  Stir in beaten eggs and flavouring with a fork, making a soft dough. 

Knead 10 to 12 times. 

Roll out 1/3" thick.

Cut with cookie cutter and fry in electric fry pan (ungreased) at 340 to 360 degrees F,
5 to 6 minutes each side.

Serve buttered, with jelly or jam, or cream cheese.

They bring back lovely memories of afternoon tea with Margaret,
who was the dearest of friends, but
who has been gone these many years.

 

Keep cool!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life these days

Well, life these days is not always stable, emotionally  

 It goes along in quite an equitable fashion for sometimes a week or so,
 but then one morning you waken, and the birds sing,
but there is nobody to share their song with,

 or the morning sun shines splendidly,

just catching the mountain top visible from the bedroom window,

and there is nobody to whisper to,

 'are you awake - look, look at the light on the mountain' - and loneliness sets in!!!

Each day I receive a posting of random poetry from 'A Year of Being Here" 

 

This morning, from Linda Back McKay, is a poem entitled 'On the Meaning of'

and oh, it touched me in that tender spot that most times I keep hidden away,

 and that, if truth be told, I want to keep tender, not callused over even with acceptance.

 

On the Meaning of

This is what life does

It wakes you in the morning

before the morning

glories open and gives you

the sound of your mother's voice.

Life spreads itself across

the ceiling to make you think

you are penned in, but that

is just another gift.  Life takes

what you thought you couldn't live

without and gives you a heron instead.

And a dragonfly, stitching its way

through the milkweed.  Life contains all

of your tears in a vessel

shaped like hands in prayer.

Life is shape, sight, sound, bone.

It whispers and sings and holds

you and you almost never feel it.

You push your way from phase to phase.

You are a horse with  blinders.

You think you are pulling, but you

are being driven.

While going about your solitary life,

one hoof in front of the other,

real life is turning the stars,

like mirrors, in your direction.

 

Linda Back McKay

 

 



But that is just on the melancholy days, and I only dare them infrequently, knowing of Himself's disapproval of such indulgence.....

A is for Apple pie

ABC Wednesday

The letter is A

And the most appealing A I can think of right now is a delicious piece of APPLE PIE, fragrant with spices,  swimming in golden syrupy juices, with the apples encased in the most crisp and tender double crust sour cream pastry!

I have come across many elegant and complicated recipes for APPLE PIE, but here is a lovely simple version, and we all know that simplicity is at the heart of all goodness.

Here is Grandma Thompson's Prize-Winning Apple Pie as submitted to a Canadian Living contest.

an aside - I had a Grandma Thompson, and my mother was a Grandma Thompson to our children, and although I don't think this recipe refers to those particular Grandma Thompsons they were certainly prize winners in the arena of Apple Pie creations as far as their families were concerned.

This is what you will need......

1 Double-Crust Sour Cream pastry recipe  (Google it...)
1 egg yolk
2 tbsp coarse sugar

and for the filling....

8 apples, preferably McIntosh
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tbsp. cornstarch
1 tsp cinnamon
1 pinch groundnutmeg
1 pinch salt
2 tbsp. butter, softened

peel and core the apples, and cut into 1/4 inch slices.  Place them in a large bowl.

In a small bowl combine the sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, nutmeg and salt;  add to the apples and toss until well coated.

Roll out half the pastry on a lightly floured surface, 1/8 of an inch thick,  fit into a 9 inch pie plate.  Trim to leave a 3/4 inch overhang; fold over and flute the edges.

Put the filling into the pie shell, dot with butter.  Whisk the egg yolk with 1 tbsp. water, brush it over the pastry rim  and cover with the remaining pastry, rolled out, of course. Fold the overhang under the bottom pastry rim, seal and flute the edge.  Brush the remaining egg mixture over the pastry.

Cut steam vents in the top - as fancy as you wish (how about a maple leaf);  sprinkle with course sugar.

Bake in the bottom third of a 450F oven for 10 minutes.  Reduce heat to 350F and bake for 65 minutes.  Let cool on rack.

Enjoy!!!  A perfect old fashioned Canadian recipe, and I have no trouble at all in imagining my own Grandma Thompson creating it on the table in her own small pantry.  Thanks to Canadian Living.

For more great A's click here at ABC Wednesday, with thanks to Denise, Roger and all who help to make this meme as interesting and delightful as it always is.

Sunday in the Studio

The 'Studio' being the back bedroom with its lovely northern window,  which now houses my loom, all the paraphernalia that goes with it, numerous weaving and dying and spinning books and about thirty years of Handwoven and Spin Off magazines which I devour avidly from time to time.

After church and a nice lunch out with a good friend I retired to the Studio (per se) to look at the naked loom and think about how it should be dressed.

New warps take some time to contemplate, and this is what I have been doing off and on for the past week since I finished the last throw on the silk mat warp and cut it off the loom, with glee.....

Cut apart and hemmed

 



washed and pressed (not a good picture)

 



 

The weaver sees lots of little flaws, but is so grateful for persistence and something created.

 

Many, many years ago, when my stash had reached gigantic proportions and there

were subtle comments as to its future, I used great quantities of random wool to make

a throw which pleased me then,  but which has now fallen prey to an inadequate weft, and is somewhat falling apart.

 

 

My stash is once again threatening to overwhelm me, and I have all the notes for this

throw, and I can fix the problem with the weft, - so no figuring,
and I am tempted to make a new one.

 

On the other hand I have this fabulous idea for a series of silk rag bags......

 

and so I contemplate, but hopefully I will waken in the morning with the decision made

and I can start winding a new warp and fill the hours with imagination

and the day with contentment. 

 

 

Living in Anticipation

I have been living in Anticipation, - a wonderful place to reside!

 

They say that Anticipation is 90% of pleasure, but I'm here to tell you that's not true in all cases.

 

I have been looking forward to the day when my hearing aids arrive, and yesterday was the day when all my anticipation turned into the sound of birds singing, bees buzzing, the summer breeze gently moving the leaves of the trees in the garden,  and the trickle of water running through the fountain. 

 

Oh glory be, what pleasure.

 

We went to Penticton for a mid-morning appointment.  A gorgeous day, - blue skies

summery clouds, small twitches of anticipation.

 

a summer mist around the lake

 

 

a small deer sauntering across the road, and into the forest

 

How  fabulous it is to be able to hear people talking without them having to raise their voices

a number of decibels, - for them, as well as for me....  My daughter arrived

for morning coffee today, greeting me in the usual tones she has been accustomed to

because 'mother doesn't hear'....... but this morning

mother heard, and it was quite deafening!

Such a treat not to have to guess what all that 'mumble' was about -
nor to have the anxiety that accompanies your interpretation of that was said
in case you make a complete fool of yourself.

And to hear the waitress who whispers when she comes to take your order......
 

I am reveling in music I have not been able to hear adequately for such a long time.

 

It is not perfect, but the audiologist tells me that with persistence and constant wear

the brain will soon acknowledge that this is part of the whole pattern

and will accommodate and improve reception.

 

Well, I shall certainly be persistent and pop them into my ears every morning

first thing when I awaken.

 

A further pleasure accompanies the wearing of these particular aids.

Partly they are the ones Charles wore, with only a different 'carrier bud' added,

so that when I tuck them around my ears they are as sweet

as a rose, or a sprig of lavender that I carry with me all through the day.

 

I have other lovely things in the Land of Anticipation
which I will tell you about some other time.

Right now I am going to go and sit in the shade, with a book, where I
can hear the birds conversing, a pine cone drop to the ground
and the swish of roller-blades as the neighbourhood children float by.

ABC Wednesday July 10th, 2013

The letter is Z

Z stands for Zantedeschia aethiopica

And it may, or may not, surprise you to know that this is the official name of the Calla Lily

 

this painting by Christine E. Striemer

 

A most charming and elegant flower, its beauty and pure simplicity making it

a popular choice for weddings and funerals

 

On the other hand, the Calla Lily is a native to Africa,

where it grows wild along roadways and in fields

and is called 'pigs ear'.

 

But in Greek the name means 'beautiful'!

 

The Calla is easy to grow, thriving even in poor soil from a rhizome

which can be saved from year to year

and replanted in your garden in the early spring.

 

In the house the Calla is known as a 'heavy drinker'

and it is advised that the stems in the vase be cut every few days

to enable it to slake its thirst.

 

And here we are at Z in the alphabet, and looking forward to starting again at A, with thanks to Denise, Roger and all others who help with this meme.

 

Click here to investigate ABC Wednesday further....

 



 

The Yucca, the Yew Tree and the Yarrow

ABC Wednesday
July 3rd, 2013

The Yucca, the Yew Tree and the Yarrow - this sounds as if the story should continue 'went into a bar one day' - but no, it is not that kind of a tale!

The Yucca, the Yew Tree and the Yarrow do have much in common, but they also have very distinct differences in that the Yucca and the Yarrow are much more benign than the Yew Tree. 

 

They have many medicinal qualities that have contributed to numerous cultures. 

 

The Yucca is native to hot, dry parts of North America, South America, Central  America and the Caribbean, but it is found in many parts of the world in deserts, prairies, grasslands, mountainous regions and even in subtropical and semi-temperate regions.

It is pollinated by the Yucca moth, who in turn lays an egg in the flower and the developing moth larva feeds on some of the Yucca seeds, an example of the scratch-my-back theory in nature.

Many species of the Yucca bear edible parts, and the roots of the Soaptree Yucca is high in sapoins and used as a shampoo in native rituals.  The dried Yucca leaves and fibers have a low ignition temperature, making the plant of use in starting fires - and also I might say contributing dangerously to wildfires.  The tough spikes of the plant make baskets and sandals, and the roots are a source of vitamins and widely used by Native Americans. 

The Yarrow

 

found in my garden, in roadside ditches, in meadows and fields, and wherever you might want to look, - perhaps not in swamps!

 

It has an ancient reputation as an herb used by Achilles to stanch the bleeding of his soldier's wounds, and it's names of Soldier's WoundWort and Knight's Milfoil attest to its styptic qualities. 

 

It is also used as snuff, and called Old Man's Pepper, and tea made from Yarrow is good for colds, kidney disorders, and baldness, if you care to wash your shiny pate with it.

 

Yarrow has been used to ease toothache, and in the manufacture of beer in Scandinavian countries.

 

However, is also had a reputation as an herb dedicated to the Evil One and was used in the

 devination of spells,  which makes it a distant cousin to The Yew Tree.

 

 

 

The Yew Tree

 

That most ancient and venerable tree that has survived since before the Ice Age.

Because of its longevity and its unique way of growing new trunks

from within the original root bole,

 it has now been estimated that some English Yews are as much as 4,000 years old.

 

"It is no wonder that the tree is associated with immortality, renewal, regeneration, everlasting life, rebirth, transformation and access to the Otherworld and our ancestors" Glennie Kindred.

 

Throughout the centuries the slow growing Yew with its tight-grained , tough, resilient wood has been used for spears, spikes, staves and eventually the famous longbows of the Middle Ages, whose arrows were tipped with poison made from the Yew.

 

The entire tree is poisonous and one must be aware of the dangerous aspects of the Yew when handling it, or working with the wood. It has been known in ages past as The Death Tree.

 

Many of the ancient Yew trees are protected by the churchyard, and reports of the great girths and ages are documented through historical texts.   Their size, longevity and dark branches would  make them stand out in a landscape, and so they were used as landmarks.

 

Yew groves planted by the Druids were common by ancient ways and on sacred sites, hilltops and burial grounds. 

 

There are more interesting variations of the letter Y to be found here, at ABC Wednesday,

with many thanks to the perpetrators and the maintainers of this great meme.

 

 

Canada Day Gratitude

July 1st, Canada Day

Oh, what a fright I had this morning!!

I woke early to the cool quiet stillness of a summer's morning; turned on the coffee, had a shower, and then took my cup to the back garden and reveled in the lovely stillness.

A quail Dad patrolled the top of the back yard fence while below him Mother and five very little chicks pecked at the gravel in the lane.  I watched and thought how wonderful it was in this small space, where there was no noise, no clamour.....

After watering all the pots Callie and I went in for breakfast.  As I passed the piano I paused to play a little Ragtime for Charles, as is my wont, even though he is not here to listen.....

I could barely hear the notes, - they were tinny and seemed to be coming from far away!!!

I tried my little personal CD that I listen to at night, - no sound!!

I began to panic, just a little.  Having lost the hearing in my left ear while travelling daily back and forth across the pass to be with Charles when he was in hospital, and having just recently visited the audiologist and ordered hearing aids so that I could once again hear in a gathering and not be limited to one -on -one conversations, I was appalled when our daughter came for her morning visit to realize I could not hear voices at all!!

She says I had a 'melt down' - I admit there were tears!  My grandmother, in the days before hearing aids, was totally deaf, and I remembered her terrible frustrations.

No  music, no loving voices, - it was too much to contemplate.....

I sought out Charles' hearing aids, put fresh batteries in them and managed to shove them into my ears, although they were much too large.

I could hear - not well, but sufficiently to understand my daughter, and we discussed how we should approach the audiologist to apprise him of this change - certainly not by telephone, but he did have an email address on his card.

I sent a text message to our youngest son who Skypes me each morning from the Cariboo, telling him no use phoning!!!!

We had another cup of coffee, and I removed the bulky hearing aids from my ears.

As I did so my daughter spoke to me, and I could hear her!!!!  Oh, wonder of wonders!

Are we ever sufficiently aware and grateful for the endearing and precious gifts we have been given, - it surely gives me pause to consider how in my own situation, living alone,  hearing and sight are such valued necessities.

I am not sure what is happening in the vicinity of my ears, but Google tells me that this is really not such a rare occurrence, and so I will just add the experience to my list of things for which I must be eternally grateful.

But it was very frightening, and I am extremely thankful it was only a momentary loss (so to speak),

 

and the flag flies on this Canada Day with thanks to our grandson, who helped Charles raise it on this day last year....

ABC Wednesday
The letter is X and the choice of flower is really quite easy.  Not too many X's dwell in the Land of Flowers, so not much confusion in picking one!

Behold the lovely Xeranthemum

 

Otherwise known as the Everlasting, or Immortelle

 

A hardy annual which blooms even in poor soil, and whose flowers stay open in cloudy

weather, I am pleased to tell you..

 

The Immortelle begins to bloom in early summer and continues through autumn.

 

Wonderful for dried flowers.  Cut when the buds begin to open and hang

them by the stems, with their heads down, in a shady dry area for a couple of weeks, to dry.

 

There was a time in my life when the outdoor porch was full

of dried plants hanging from the rafters

but the Everlasting was the most charming and dependable

of them all.

 

 

 

You might know it by another name, 'strawflower'

 

but whatever its name it is precious for providing colour from the garden

in the midst of winter, whether in bouquets or in wreaths.

 

 

 

 

For more takes on the letter X visit here at ABC Wednesday, with many thanx to

everyone who brings this xcellent meme to us weekly.

June 24th, 2013

Another day that finds us enveloped in grey clouds, mist and almost continuous showers,
 but yesterday was a little gem amidst all these drizzly days.

 

I opened my eyes to sunshine and immediately sprang out of bed and put a skein of white singles wool to soak in warmish water and a cup of vinegar; drained the day lilies which have been sitting on the kitchen counter for days, releasing their lovely orange dye and beginning to look a little gelatinous, and only then I got dressed.  This sunny day was a long time in coming, and I didn't plan to waste any of it.

 

 

 

Before I walked to church I put the wool in with the dye in a large glass jar, placed it outside in the sunshine, and carried on with my day while the sun gently heated the whole mixture and coaxed the transfer of flowers to wool.  Lovely, - here it is today, hung to dry; a beautiful pale yellow skein hanging from the shower head and draining into the bathtub.

 

 

 

Yesterday was really a most satisfying day - our two eldest sons came riding by and scooped me up for dinner at The Ranch Restaurant, and what a splendid time we had.  Life is made up of these unexpected pleasures and one must snatch them and hold them close and treasure them as compensation for the unexpected tragedies that also take us by surprise!

I had a wonderful fresh crisp salad and breaded veal cutlets, Charles' favourite when dining out......

Today seems to be a 'yellow' day as I cut  lemony silk strips to start a new silk mat, or bag, or pillow cover, - whatever the current warp and weft suggests....

Rainy days can always be filled with sunny starts. 

It is a day for weaving.

Thursday, June 20th

 

Out in the garden this evening to try to lend a little support to the white delphiniums which were growing so tall and stately before the last two days of rain. but are now bent every which way, sadly and most distressed......

 

I brought a few of the most unhappy ones into the house with great bunches of Blaze roses, which are also heavy with rain and blossom, and they make a magnificent bouquet.

 

 

It was good to get out into the freshly washed air.  If the rain had been heavier I would have said 'scrubbed' but it has been a gentle rain, - persistent but kinder to the cherry crop

than a sudden violent downpour.

 

The skies are lighter, - it is even possible to see a few cloud formations

rather than that dismal pewter lid on the world.

 

I have spent the last two days sorting through pictures - part of my preparation to

gather together a pictorial story of Charles' life, - and reminiscing!  Our eldest daughter came

in as I was going through the many boxes and we got lost in memories

and warm stories and laughter.

 

It was such a rich and varied time - he was not a dull man, and life was never boring;

not for me or the children.

 

While I was outside I picked all the dead daylily blooms from along

the fence and brought them in to put with my daily/daylily stash that is

soaking in a bowl, waiting for the sunshine so that I can put

the whole wonderful mixture in glass jars with some mordanted wool

 and see what lovely soft shade it dyes.

 

The weatherman promises sun for tomorrow....

we shall see.

 

A new book to read in bed tonight; in the mail today

Alexander McCall Smith's latest -

'Trains and Lovers'

 

The New York Times says in review "McCall Smith's generous writing

and dry humor, his gentleness and humanity, and his ability to evoke a place and

a set of characters without caricature or condescension

have endeared his books to readers", and I can hardly wait.

 

An early bedtime.....

 

 

 

 

 

ABC Wednesday

W is the letter for the week

Wisteria is the choice of flower

 

 

pictures taken in May, 2011 at the big house

below our hill garden

 

Wildly exotic and tenderly sumptuous, these flowers

grow on a vine that is so strong it will bend a steel

pergoda out of shape.

 

I planted a small new vine against the back garden fence

and hope to enjoy its beautiful blooms before

it takes the fence down!!!

 

For more Ws visit here at ABC Wednesday, with

thanks to all the wonderful ones who

maintain this great meme.

ABC Wednesday
June 12th, 2013

The letter is V

 

The nicest thing I can think of in the flower/plant line is the Korean Spice Viburnum

 

 

A deciduous flowering shrub

reaching four to six feet in height, although the Compact variety stays a bit smaller.

 

Often planted at entranceways or close to windows

it is the  Crème do la Crème of the Garden when it comes to fragrance!!

The aroma is sweet, but of even greater appeal is the

sharpness of the spicy scent that some say reminds them of cloves.

 

If I had a lovely garden gate as here depicted, I would plant a Korean Viburnum

 and visitors would be overcome by the romanticism

and the intriguing fragrance. 

 

(The picture is entitled a Country Garden Gate

and the artist is David Lloyd Glover)

 

We had a lovely Korean Viburnum in the garden on 10th, but it was unfortunately

too large to move, and I have never been back to obtain clippings

to root, alas.

 

Even more 'alas' none of the local nurseries seem to be able to obtain this shrub

though I ask every spring.

 

These bushes are among the many plants that attract butterflies, and

small birds feed on the berries in the fall.

 

 

Of course there is also the sweet, retiring violet, whose lovely scent is

also known amongst

Lovers, Sweet Old Grandmothers. and anyone else

who yearns for the first flowers of spring.

 

 

 

For more V's visit here at ABC Wednesday

with thanks to all who maintain this great meme

June 7th, 2013

A stroll in the garden on a lovely summery June day.....

The Blaze Climber, which is thriving so beautifully it threatens to take the shed wall

it grows against and run away down the lane!

 



Columbines from the garden on the hill

 



 

I should really have been more circumspect and taken the time to deadhead these

lovely roses before asking them to pose for a photo

This lemony yellow Iris is loaded with blooms and just seems to keep

adding sunshine to the back garden

 





 

while the delphinium from the old garden have reverted to white

and probably have ambitions to reach the roof top, they are

growing so straight and tall

 

 

The Abraham Darby, fragrant and my favourite

A nice clutch of lettuce for salads

 



and the gorgeous floxglove

 

a Mister Lincoln rose

 

 

and that lovely apricot Iris with the furry tongue

 

a pot of herbs

 



 

and more foxgloves with the pots that line the front sidewalk

the Heliotrope and the pinks make brushing by this pot a delight

a sunny welcome at the front steps



and the Blaze at the end of the side bed



 

 Roses



 

A peony that hides behind the roses (above)

 

 

the new, tiny clematis along the back fence

 

at this stage of the game the delphinium look very fragile and fairylike

 



 

 

and over it all a blue sky and summer clouds...

 

I have much to be thankful for!