The Lie and The Truth

"Tiffany" Rose whose fragrance is beyond the beauty
of the flower itself.  This is for the "blog world."

We bloggers lie.  Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help your garden spade?  Well. . .ah, sure, a-huh.  Yep.  But with our camera's we show only what we want the world to see--of ourselves and of our gardens.  There's nothing right or wrong about this; there's just more than what meets the eye of the reader.

Here's the real picture.  My lovely rose bush surrounded
by invasive "horsetail"

While the Things I get to do today take me to abject despair and then from this dark place back to hope again, I thought I would air the dirty laundry, show you what's in the closet, but really just add a picture of part of my front yard.

Where is that lovely rose now?  Hint--top left.
 This is my view without the editing help of the camera.

Since life is just an experiment--that word has been included two or three times a week lately--my despair over the horsetail that is taking over my front yard has moved from the depths back to a place of hope. One of the on-line sources commented that none of the weed killers on the market (and I won't use them anyway) will really stop horsetail, but that it thrives in poor soil. Nitrogen rich soil is toxic to it.  I brightened immediately as I heard my mother caution me about using chicken "litter" in the garden,  "Be careful.  It will burn the plants!"  Wow! So I could pull/dig the horsetail and seriously amend the soil with chicken poo and eventually stop the horsetail.

Gravel path green with newly sprouted horsetail.
It was all clean last week.

A vision of my pull up the bushy, tufted weed and then immediately holding a chicken over the spot and squeezing it until the soil was "amended" plopped into my mind.

Wish me well with this experiment.

Clear Eyes for Clary Sage

Drooping beginnings of the clary sage blossoms

My herb garden last year was the beginning of an experiment. I bought what the catalog called seeds.  In truth eight of the ten packets that came in the mail had a tiny envelope the size of two postage stamps side by side that had a  little "dust" in the bottom.  That fine powder was the exploding mechanism the various herbs used for propagation.  Oh, my!

Pinkish white flower stalks

The powders were sprinkled on moist earth, misted frequently and even included as car passengers for a brief trip to the central part of our state--they needed infant-nursery attention at that stage of their growth.  Left home they would have died.

Elegant shapes dance and at some point
will make "dust"

As I contemplate what Things I get to do today in the yard,  I'm stunned by the distance between "dust" and this spectacular flowering plant nearly four feet tall.  Never underestimate small things, not short people, nor little children, nor tiny seeds.  Stand back with respect and prepare to be amazed.

Mum Turns 91

Happy Birthday, Mother.

She's going strong.  It's the Norwegian blood ever at slight odds with the Swedish blood that keeps things moving and provides the fuel for her life.  A cane or walker mixed in may slow her down, but she is no less determined to get things done.

So today, we are flying up to Spokane to celebrate her day.  Perhaps the best of all the Things I get to do today is give her a birthday hug.

"Dusty Springs" Up and Running

They knew it was finally ready.  As if on cue the girls lined up and hopped in.   These chicks have already spent hours/days flup-flupping in the cool earth of the vacant chicken tractor.
Confirming that the Dusty Springs Bath House is now officially in operation is checked off the Things I get to do today.

"Nice place, Katy.  Shall we take a roll?"

About a month ago you all gave me suggestions for a name, something to clearly define the space, the use and the dignity of this establishment.  I took some time today to help the girls vote on the name and then get it up on the wall.

Katy darting to avoid the paparazzi.

As I stand, camera in hand, in front of the Dusty Springs, Katy Perry Chicken, Nina Simone Chicken, and Nora Jones Hen (the golden girls followed from a distance), hiked right over to check out the ambiance of the newly named luxury chicken accommodations.

Wide-Eyed, Yellow-Eyed Grass

This sweetie is 1/2" across

She's definitely a morning "person" like me. But then she's not really awake for her day until the sun has shown on her for half an hour or so.  If it's cloudy, she may just decide to sleep through.  Checking her wake up time is the first of cheery Things I get to do today.  Her day is brief--by three o'clock in the afternoon her eyes are shut in sleep.

A happy clump straddles the fence of the hen pen.

I fell in love with this simplest of sweet little flower grasses a number of years ago and bought a couple of plants.  They live a season and self-sow for little starts all around that are easy to control.

There's a blue-eyed grass I hear tell. Maybe it's a night "person,"  waking at five in the afternoon and glowing on into the moon light, adding a fresh sparkle to the cool of the dark.

A Gaggle of Swifts

Completed wood project of three swifts for winding yarn

I'm pretty sure they come in flocks. But if this group of swifts were ever again to be together, it would for sure be more of a gaggle. Tomorrow they all fly out to their respective new homes here and there about the country to live with friends of mine. That's where the gaggle comes in. We are a talkative bunch who know well enough when to be still, but that event does not arise often.  So when we are together, gabble and gaggle we do.

Giving wings to these swifts is my friend-related item of Things I get to do today.  It's taken awhile to cause these "birds" to come into being from a 1"x6"x 8' piece of maple lumber.  I've learned and loved the process.  It all started with an idea.  Any idea held firmly long enough will come into being one way or another.  The thought took wings and landed, finally, fully-formed, in my hands.

Happily Homemade

My smallest Honey Berry Bush*

If you cook it too long, it gets too thick--as in turns to hard-stage candy.  I've not made cooked jam before, but my 1 3/4 cup yield from these honey berry bushes said it was time to start.  And I cooked it a little too long.  No problem.  I added a bit of water, and the most delicious of Things I get to do today is frequently remove my little jar of jam from the fridge and stir it.  The delicious part is that the spoon or fork must then be licked well. With 10 oz. being the total jam for this year from my new babies, not one drop of this is wasted.

Funny, lumpy, blue and sweetly tart

I followed the recipe in Joy of Cooking which is so perfect for the beginning jam maker who is wildly eager with even the smallest container of berries.  The sugar is added in proportion to the amount of berries. Some recipes would say to start with 4 to 6 cups of berries.  Well, that puts my jam into next summer, and I just won't wait that long.

Lick, lick, lick,lick!  WOW!

Time to turn off the heat.

The end results in flavor are over the top--tart, sweet, exploding with exciting hints of all sorts of the best fruits--the extreme opposite of bland.

I'm thinking (hoping) that the cute little pink points on the stem
by each leaf will be next year's place to bloom and fruit!



*I found these plants at One Green World (onegreenworld.com).