Hello yello

If you like gardening, and you know you do, then this time of year can be especially frustrating. The flowers are pretty much over, especially if you've had a vicious hot summer like we have. We started with 100 degree weeks back in May. Nothing has grown properly this year, except maybe the grass fungus?

By now, this is all that's left of my garden. Coneflower seeds. Uuuuuggly.


Every year at about this time I start to think "oh, I should just cut those stalks down, they're hideous." And then I step outside one day and I'm reminded of why I leave them up.

Cause I love these little guys. And they love the hideous stalks of seeds. It's like a smorgasbord for birdies.


I don't know where Yellow and his ladyfriend Slightly Muddy Yellow live during the rest of the year, but in August they live at my house! Oh, and you know what else is awesome about leaving up the coneflower seeds for the Yellows? Now there are a lot more coneflower plants living around here. In my neighbor's yard, for instance. Where the word "yard" is a stretch. Where it could be called "barren nuclear wasteland with weeds." Or something like that.

- H

Shoot. I thought I had ennui but it turns out I didn't know what that meant.

I had a lovely morning today. I had the day off for the 4th holiday, my mom came and took Griffin for his first date alone with Grandma (a tradition Cooper has enjoyed hugely this past year), and my hubs took Cooper fishing. The fishing only lasted ten minutes but the drive there and back afforded me an entire hour free.

I decided to work on my front yard's landscaping. It's an annual exercise in frustration, whereby I dig up the rocks surrounding the landscaping bed, cut out all the grass and weeds that have snuck under the rocks, and put them back in place. Oh, and I dug out a lot of the stinky chameleon plant I put in years ago and have regretted ever since. If you're ever at the garden nursery, DO NOT succumb to the lure of chameleon plant. Don't say I didn't warn you. Friends don't let friends plant that stinky dirt hog.

Anyhoodle, as I was out there sweating and pulling, swearing and whatnot, I suddenly had this overwhelming feeling. I don't want to call it a psychic moment or anything, because I didn't see anything or learn this week's lottery numbers. I just had a feeling.

It was the strangest thing. I suddenly had this feeling that change is on the wind.

OK, that's sounds dumb. It was a little breezy. No, it felt more like there's a cloud of change coming my way, only I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. It just is.

Ok, this still sounds dumb. Dumb and vague and slightly New-Agey, and for those of you who know me in person I'm not in the slightest bit New Agey.

I don't really know how to describe what it felt like, except maybe that it was a premonition that things for us will change soon? I tend to like change so it doesn't freak me out. In fact, after the events of the last month or two (or thirty-six) it would be kind of nice to have some forward movement (and yes, I'm assuming it'll be forward movement because I'm going to start being an optimist now).

I stood in the yard trying to figure out what to call this feeling, so I decided it was ennui. But then I googled ennui in the car tonight and as it turns out it means a gripping listlessness caused by boredom.

Clearly, that's not going on around here.

- H

My weekend

We had a lovely weekend. The weather was perfect - 75 to 80 and sunny all the time. The pollen turned our cars green and our heads swollen and we didn't even care.

Check it out, I finally won something on a blog giveaway! From this post, I won a copy of Snappy Fashions, a book full of ideas on bedazzling onesies. And when the prize package arrived in the mail, lo and behold the lovely author, Cathie Filian, had included this entire stash of loot! I have added "embellish onesies" to my to-do list.


I took the boys to six estate sales yesterday, in search of the perfect storage hutch/cabinet/armoire/dresser/container for all of my sewing paraphernalia on Saturday morning. The serious salers were ticked that I'd brought two anklebiters with me. Hah! I scoff at their indignance. We bought various trinkets and trudged home at noon, exhausted and without a large storage hutch/cabinet/armoire/dresser/container. Oh, well. Maybe next week.

Then this morning my hubs took the boys to the car races and a swap meet in Illinois, which meant I got an entirely free morning. This is largely unheard of, and very well appreciated. I celebrated by cleaning my sweatshop from top to close to the bottom but not quite. Didn't want to get ahead of myself or anything, that would be unlike me.

When the males returned, they were full of new skills.

Like how to set up a swap meet in their own driveway.


And hawk their wares to the general public.


And dance in celebration when their mom paid them a shiny quarter and still get to keep the toys.


Oh, and I made my kids some short-man-pants for the summer. I'm not allowed to call them cropped pants or capris or even jams. Hah! I scoff at the male rules. They're awesome, as soon as I get my act together I'll post the pattern on the sewing side.

Griffin's are in a stretch poplin camo. Cause he's cool like that.

I asked him to show me his belly. Which he calls his body.

We're supposed to have ten more days of high 70s, sunny weather! It'll be hell on my new baby green flowers, but lovely for us humans.

-H

The garden party

This week in the garden...

My Abraham Darby rose (name finally remembered whilst typing yesterday's post).

This is the rose that started out as a cabbage English rose, and after I uprooted it this is what sprung forth from the land. I don't like it. It's in my Mediterranean HOT HOT HOT garden of all blues and yellows, so it clearly doesn't "go."

Rhodies. Temperamental pains in the butt. Good thing they're pretty and evergreen.

Wild orchids. Not wild, not orchids.

I'm doing a pot of nasturtiums this summer. They ought to die off sometime in June from the atrocious heat.

Irises are so pretty. So so so pretty and fluffy and lovely. Can you believe my next door neighbor doesn't like irises? What's wrong with her? Eh. What does she know, she doesn't shave her legs.

He's still on duty.

This year I've done a blue and yellow theme in my containers. Loving it.

Clematis. Always bothers me when people pronounce it CLEM-uh-tiss, although that's correct. I prefer the incorrect clem-AH-tiss.

Remember my baby astilboides? They're coming along quite nicely, thank you very much.

Thanks for going on my tour with me.

- H

A failed master gardener am I

My favorite roses of all time ever hands down are English roses. David Austen roses. Cabbage roses. Whatever you'd like to call them, I love them.

I used to have quite a few, before I moved to this house. In fact, back when I was moving every year I managed to dig them up and bring them with me wherever I went. Somehow, in the chaos of having children I managed to lose most of them and remove a few others.

For instance, I had a Zamora in my HOT HOT HOT sun garden that had so many thorns you literally couldn't handle it without thorn-proof gloves. Once I had kids, that one went bye-bye.

Well, not really. I dug it up and threw it out. Only, I must not have gotten the entire root ball because lo and behold the next year a new rose bush sprouted in its place. The original graft of the hybrid. Totally different rose, not cabbage-y, not thorny. Original root stock. Weird, huh?

And people say roses are hard to grow. For me, roses are hard to get rid of.

This baby has not only survived my neglect and the constant annual onslaught of the disgusting Japanese beetles, but she's managed to thrive a little. I have managed to lose and simultaneously forget her name. Sometimes I remember things when I don't need to, so I'm hoping her name comes to me while I'm strolling down the aisles at Target, shopping for toothpaste or the ever-elusive perfect Mossimo casual t-shirt.

{I REMEMBER! It's Abraham Darby. I won't forget it again.}

This year I was totally on top of things and sprayed the bushes for infestations and infections before they happened, so I'm hoping this is a good rose year for us.

So many good things happening in the garden right now. I'll do a photo pictorial this weekend and share it tomorrow.

- H

Weekend recap

First, the winner of this week's giveaway.....drumroll please......K.H.! She'll have this little trio of goodies on their way to her home soon (K.H., email me at heathertyfeatherty@gmail.com with your address and I'll get them out today).

You know why this was a good weekend? I got to play with these babies.

And these babies.

And this came out to play. So I'm good for today, despite the rainy Monday.

Rain is good now, my babies need it.

Tomorrow I'm going to put up a Mother's Day Giveaway! So check back....it's a good'un.

- H

Go out and gitchasum garden gnomes

When I was finishing college, and shortly thereafter, I dated a guy who had the cutest parents. They were comical. His dad went by the name Big Bob, and he permed his hair.

Big Bob had a way of solving all dilemnas by using his word "gitchasum." Like, for instance, if my car's low-profile tires were balding after 15,000 miles, Big Bob would say "you need to go out and gitchasum Michelins, them'll wear forever."

So I recently decided I've fallen in love with garden gnomes - yes, I do pronounce that gah-nome - and I went out and got me some.

I got a bird feeder gnome. So far my squirrels are lusting after it, devising all sorts of ways to jump from the thinnest branch of the tree onto the cable hung gnome, and the birds haven't touched it. But I'm giving it time. I bet he's intimidating to birds, no? I bet they see him as some sort of Fairy Godfather and they're worried that if they eat his Magic Seeds they'll start singing one pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small...

And then this guy?

He's just the guardian of the garden. Binnie hangs out with him for protection. He's a badass but people underestimate him because of his size. Don't mess with him. He's a sneaky little SOB and when you least expect it, he'll beat your shins with his gigantic stick. I have bruises to prove it. I keep him around because the pigeons with fluffy tails hate him.

They came from Target. Where else?

- H

I got a new dog

Happy late April Fool's. I did get a new dog, but I think he's going to give me a lot less trouble than Binnie does. On second thought, he may actually be harder to keep alive.

I bought this topiary form on clearance at Target when I was on maternity leave with Cooper. So he sat outside, stuffed with pine cones and fake moss for three years while I did nothing with him.

He was a hit with the kids, though. Every child that has ever come here has hung out with the doggie.

Finally yesterday I bought the sheet moss and elfin thyme and got him all planted up.



I hope it works! I've never been brave enough to do topiary before, it seemed like too much work. But really, it wasn't hard. The growing might be a lot harder.

Astilboides, I do love you so ~

I love me some astilboides {ass-til-boyd-eeze}. You can be old-fashioned and call him rodgersia if you want to, or you can be street and call him umbrella plant.



I finally, after four years of searching high and low, found him for sale at my favorite garden shop, Sugar Creek Gardens. They've had it growing in and around their shop forever, but this is the first time I was able to buy it. So I snatched up two tiny plants that are just beginning to wake up and brought them home to live with me.

If you like hostas, and you like 'em big like Sum and Substance, check out astilboides. The leaves grow to be two feet in diameter. This is a plant with presence. It needs some attention to watering, but it makes a great shady umbrella for things like certain hostas that will burn in the rays. Kind of like my skin.

This is Sum and Substance hosta ~ don't you think they'd look pretty in the same area? I do.


I also have a few leftover coral bells that need homes, so they're going in with the astilboides in the new planting bed my husband built around our silver maple {cursed tree with its constant dropping of garbage!}. Can't wait to see them grow up!

STUNG

Alas, I did not spend the day on the couch with warm banana bread. It sounded like a great idea at the time, but then things changed.

The sun came out.

So I loaded the back of the pickup truck with mulch from the garden store and proceeded to break my back spreading it in the front beds. It looks so nice, I am so glad I didn't waste the day lounging around. Plus, it's something that the house needs in order to sell it {and in order for me to live here happily ever after}.

As my husband and baby napped, and my neighbor took Cooper to the park down the street with his kids, I pitchforked load after load of mulch into my wheelbarrow and spread it.

It was all going so well. And then I got close to my weeping cherry tree, which is in full bloom right now {JOY} and it was covered with little happy honey bees! So cute, buzzing around in their excitement about the first flowers of spring. It was so nice to see them, seeing as how bees are in a bad place right now and they're disappearing before our very eyes.

One of the sweet little endangered buggers hitched a ride on me back to the pickup truck. He must have hung out on my hair or my shoulder until he decided to climb into the back of my t-shirt. Just as I was making a sharp right turn to pitch my load into the wheelbarrow. This upset him. And he stung me.

There is now one less honeybee in the world. Boo-hoo {not being sarcastic if you can believe it}.

Good God, that hurts! I had no idea I had a bee in my shirt, I never heard or felt a buzz at all.

I will have so much more sympathy for people who get stung from now on. It's been since 'Nam that I've gone without a sting. I was beginning to think it was a myth.

It's no myth.

But on the bright side, my yard looks phenomenal, which makes my soul happy too! Happy Spring! Happy Day! Yay!

The garden, she is calling me

{in honor of Saint Patrick's Day, which is about beer but I'm choosing it to be about things green}

Ahh, spring. Much of this season leaves me melancholy. But not my garden. No, she is my best friend starting yesterday, and we will be BFFs until November.

This happens every year. We break up, we reconcile, we break up...you get the idea.

In case you didn't know what a gigantic geek I am, I will let you in on a little secret. I have a Master Gardener certificate. I took the class at the cooperative extension.

Yes, I am that big of a garden geek.

The funny thing is, there's a lot about plants and growing that I don't know! If it's a subject I don't care about, like for instance, vegetables, then I push it out of my mind.

But if it's flowers? Oh, yeah. Then I'm in.

I've moved a lot in my adult life. I moved ten times in ten years until I bought my current house, where I've been for six years! SIX! That's like eternity in Heather Time. My point in talking about all those moves is to tell you that each time I moved into a new house, decorating the yard was my top priority. And each time my neighbors would watch me quizically and eventually say something like "huh, you really like to garden, don't you?" And then they's inevitably get around to what they really wanted to know. "Um, do you know when it's ok to cut back my mums?"

Mums seem to mystify most home gardeners. I'll tell you why later.

I'm here to share a tidbit of garden information for you. This is for people gardening in zones 5-7. If you're in a hotter climate, I have no clue. If you're colder than this, add an extra month to this time frame.

When you start to see the first green buds of leaves sprouting at the base of your mum plants, you can cut back all of the dead branches from last fall and rake them out very carefully. With spring soils thawing and rains soaking the dirt, they can very easily lift up altogether, and that would not be good.

So be careful, but go ahead and hack away at the deadness now.

Then I usually tamp down the earth around the rootball a little, just for good measure. Not too much, don't want to compact the soil or anything.

Then I move on to all the other plants like mums that need this same treatment. Asters, daisies, Russian sage, salvia, yarrow, hostas. The exception? Lavender. Don't cut the branches of your lavender yet, even if it looks dead as dead can be. It takes a while for lavender to come back and even the most dead branches will surprise you in a few months.

So that's the mum story. Here's the other secret to mums...

They do better when they're planted in the spring. You can buy the most teensy tiny mum for 99 cents now, and by fall it will not only be big and beautiful and bloom like the dickens, it will actually live through the winter!

It drives me nuts, how garden stores only set out mums in full bloom in the fall. That's fine, they're pretty and all. But they don't do well when they're planted in the fall. They don't like to overwinter with wet feet (i.e. a damp, snowy spot that doesn't drain well) and they're liable to die on you.

So if you plant them now, you can save yourself a bunch of money and more work next year. Just a little tip about mums.

Wow. I am a gigantic geek, aren't I?