Posts Tagged ‘garden’

Once my husband started ordering from infomercials there was no stopping. To his credit, he watched many more—to the bitter end—than he responded to. My shelves, though, are testament to the fact that he did respond on more than one occasion. On many birthdays and Christmases I’d unwrap a gift I knew well from hearing the excited users on TV. So I would be excited and reluctant all at the same time. After all, Jerry had pictured me using these marvels of science, and I had to follow through.

I’m not sure which was the gateway drug, but probably the “storage system” complete with containers and a turntable. Never search for the right container for your leftovers again, nor the lids. Just spin and you would find them. Ha! So I put them to the test. That was years ago. They are still up there making each day easier exactly as advertised.

Surely the GTX-press Jerry ordered next would not live up to its billing: quick, perfect eggs, leftovers wrapped in a tortilla and made into a healthful dinner, angel food cake with fruit in the middle, etc. all in about three to seven minutes. Come on! How often would I drag out an appliance to do one of these things anyway? A lot! Again, except for the propensity for the Teflon to peel a bit, it was perfect and is indispensable in my kitchen.

Jerry also responded to fantastic promises in catalogs. We all know flower catalogs should be sued for false advertising, but after years of restraining himself, Jerry ordered a “carpet of flowers.” When it arrived he cut a small portion to test and followed directions to the T. Did we have a carpet of flowers? Yes and no. A few varieties came up, but most vigorous was the verbena. It eventually made a verbena carpet and we loved it. Verbena was my mother’s favorite flower, so we always knew she had orchestrated its insidious march through our garden.

Walk though my house and you’ll see item after item you’ve seen in catalogs: Galileo’s temperature gauge, little German boy and girl that pop out and foretell the weather, elegant, domed barometer, solar waterfalls, gargoyle cats, and the list goes on and on. I treasure them all.

Did I ever call a halt to a purchase? Yes, yes I did. Twice. For a Lifestyle neck lift and a “slimmer” undergarment. Jerry was genuinely puzzled with my attitude—and I did have an attitude. Those are the two times I said, “BUT WAIT!”


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“There’s four armadillos in your backyard, Ahmaw,” my grandson yelled.

Yeah, right. But I grabbed the camera just in case. P1050885

There they were, facinating and kinda cute–until they waddled around front and invaded my flower/vegetable garden and rooted up a salvia and okra. P1050906

These guys pay no attention to you. None whatsoever, not even if you prod them with a stick away from plants. They stay planted, scooping with that shovel-like nose, chomping and hanging in with ferocious claws that contrast with their innocent, rollypolly look. Focused. They are focused, pausing only once to take look at me.P1050915

Okay, that was entertaining guys. Come back again when you’re not so hungry.

NOTE: To enlarge pics (and text) press control and +.

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The way to my heart is through my garden. For Mother’s Day my daughter gave me this unreal pot of calla lillies to enjoy and later plant in the garden. Please don’t anyone tell the squirrels where the bulbs are. I want to see these again and again.

From my daughter, unreal calla lillies to be planted in my garden.

And from one son the mama birds and I got an amazing bird bath, one I have dreamed about for years. From the other son, there is something to scent the garden, Confederate jasmine. P1050536You must move in closer and see the frog band playing instruments around the rim. P1050544

In the searing heat, my son-in-law dug up two anoying stumps that marred the yard for years and moved my rain barrel to the spot on the side where it belongs. 

It’s good to be queen for a day. Thank you, kids and kids-in-law and grands for your phone calls. I won’t forget this one.









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Wildlife GardenI  know going in the African irises are not part of the “working group” in our wildlife garden.   The coveted hummingbirds and butterflies ignore the tiny blossoms and go on to porterweed, firebush, pentas and lantanas. But the tall, broad iris leaves catch every nuance of breeze and flag me down with startling movement each time I glance their way. They are a gift, one that does not appear to fit with the garden’s purpose, but it would be a mistake to think that. The robust, twelve-foot firebush stretches like the giant it is, pushing toward penta’s territory. But standing guard, straight and sturdy as a fence, the African iris halts the invasion, doing much more than I ask of it. Just being a sentinel would be enough, or sprouting tiny yellow  blooms skyward would be enough, but there is that swaying, dipping, shimmeying that it does for no reason but to bring the garden alive with movement. So in the lull between wildlife visits, we enjoy the dance of the irises, a ballet to fill the waiting stage.

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