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This Ribes placed itself at the corner of our house, right behind a ‘Point Defiance’ Rhododendron. The first year we had the Rhody, the two bloomed together, in shades of the same pink. The small clusters of deep pink florets on the native currant complemented the large, open petals shading from medium pink to nearly white on Point Defiance to perfection. I was so excited (and this from a person with little affinity for pink). It never pays to get one’s hopes up…the two have never again graced us with that perfect duet. As these buds begin to unfold, the buds on its ersatz partner are still clenched into tight fists. What do you suppose: they had a lovers’ spat? one felt upstaged by the other? they’re holding out for a better contract? I sure do wish they would work out their differences.

I love the way so many blooms start up tightly curled, then unfurl and straighten as the petals (or in this case, bracts, open). This Euphorbia wulfenii is still in the early stages of the process. I must remember to check it out every day if I am to appreciate the many stages of beauty it will go through before, in mid-summer, it gives up the ghost and asks to be put out of its misery.

The dainty tete a tete daffodils are the first of the narcissi to bloom for me. Every year, I buy a pot or two of them to enjoy on the breakfast table. They cheer me up no end. Once they have performed that service, I add them to the growing colony under the cherry trees.

My hellebores seem late. They are just beginning to bloom, though I have been seeing patches of them in others’ gardens for some time now. I’ll take what I can get…maybe I will still have them when their earlier cousins have passed.

The evergreen clematis has been threatening to swallow the deck. Richard strung wires on the underside of the plastic roof, and the vines are clambering along them with great vigor. These first blossoms are responding to the extra warmth and light. By next month the outer blossoms will have burst forth. I will have to show you another picture, then, of the overall effect when the whole front of the house is engulfed in blossoms and scent. Sweeping up the mess they leave is a small price to pay.

The aconitums are new this year…tiny bulbs resulting in tiny flowers. The flowers are very like buttercups, but the collar of spiky leaves sets them apart. I am told that they will multiply…hope so.

My daughter gave me this hat for Christmas. It is a little challenging to wear, but I love it. So far, I have worn it only to walk up and down the hill by our house…hardly a public outing. Here’s the thing: this hat is downright therapeutic. As I walk along, the little balls bump against my head ever so gently. It is almost like the scalp massage that is the best part of getting a haircut. There is, so far, no evidence of increased brain activity, but I am more inclined to make time for my walk despite inclement weather and/or a general tendency towards laziness.

As I sit here in my three layers of sweaters, looking out at the wind-whipped cedars and the rain-spangled seed heads, pictures like this one carry me back to summer days of hotly contested croquet games leading up to dinners out under the cherry trees. It is easy to forget the vicious insects who occasionally drove us indoors or, if not, had us scratching and cursing through the night. I must remember to actively appreciate the little gifts each season brings. For instance: with the wind howling outside my window, I am no longer torn between the present (very pleasant) activity and a longing to be out digging in flower beds or exploring the woods. What’s more, the sun will not shine in to reflect off the computer screen, sending me in search of bits of cardboard to block it out so I can go on about my business. Then there are the holidays coming up, with their promise of family and friends gathering around. Life is good.

I’ve long had a hankering for a Euonymus Bush for my Garden of Earthly Delights, if only for the sly reference to years suffering through darkened auditoriums and slide after slide of obscure paintings in muddy browns. Trouble was, all offerings seemed pretty ordinary. With so many spectacular choices, I could never justify planting a ho-hum tree, for any reason.

Enter Dancing Oaks Nursery. It didn’t hurt that Amy was with me to point out the charms of the fetching hot pink seed pods that, when they burst, sent forth tongues of fire in shades of orange and red.

Euonymus sachalinensis is also known as spindle tree, for the use of its hard wood in making the rods used by spinners and weavers in days of yore (before plastics came along to leach the romance from so many everyday items). The potted-up specimens for sale were, indeed, a bit on the spindly side, but thanks to the massive display garden, mature models decked out in all of their autumn finery cinched the deal.

We get to crow a bit when the chicks get recognition, right? Oh wait…it would be the rooster, not the hen, who did the crowing. Heck, forget about the metaphor and let’s cut to the Willamette Week “best of” issue which came out yesterday. My son, Din Johnson, is on page 35 with a nice color photo of him roasting and WW’s endorsement as “Best Live Coffee Show”. Where do they come up with these categories?

So, I bet you thought I was going to come up with a story of vengeance. Surprise! I still like them, and here’s why: they push up these mounds of fluffy soil. All around them, the soil can be compacted like cement, but the hill of mole dirt is light, it’s airy, it’s the consistency of couscous.

One day Richard sent me out to shovel up the molehills in preparation for the arrival of the Kamoda to come in and mow the entire area (to call it a lawn would be presumtuous). As I approached each hillock, I became ever more aware of the treasure trove I was facing: each one offered a shovelful or two of delightfully aerated soil. I filled a wheelbarrow, and then it hit me: I could mix it with corn gluten meal to solve several problems at once.

Corn gluten meal is a weed seed suppressant. Locally, there is a place called
Concentrates where you can buy it by the 50# bag, as apposed to buying the name brand for many dollars more. It is pretty effective at surpressing weeds, but it is a sort of brilliant orangey-yellow that is not at all attractive in a flower bed. Here is what I do: I fill my wheelbarrow with molehill dirt, add corn gluten at about 6parts dirt to 1 part meal, which tones down the color of the stuff to an acceptable level, then apply the mixture in a number of ways:

Berms: I love berms, because they are a way of sculpting the land. When I dig a new bed, there are clumps of earth that pile up. I just move them to an area where mounded earth can create topographical interest. I feel like a force of nature, as I build new land formations at will. Once the configuration pleases me, I spread the surface with many layers of newspaper. If you saturate the newspaper thoroughly, it will cling nicely to the contours of the berm, and hold the mole mix in place as you shovel it on (next step). All you need to do when you are ready to plant is cut a hole in the newspaper. By the time the paper begins to decompose, you will have covered most of the surface with plant material.

If no berm is in the works, I simply use my mixture as a top dressing for existing beds. The weeding has become much easier since I devised this plan. Once summer heats up, the moles slow down…but then so do I.

Let me preface this with the disclaimer that no, every post on this blog will not be banner-related. It’s just that for the last two months I have spent every Thursday Friday and Saturday sewing and selling the things, and every Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday learning how to make a website about them. I am, I think understandably, a little banner-obsessed right now. When I looked out my kitchen window this morning and saw a hummingbird attempting to suck nectar out of a dangling streamer of the banners on our deck, it felt like an affirmation of sorts. Don’t worry. There are feeders nearby with nutrients for the little dears, and tubular flowers to spare. So forgive me if I took delight in the little guy’s futile attempt to, metaphorically speaking, get blood from a stone.

Well, maybe for Kermit. But here’s the thing. I try to do the right thing: recycle, compost, drive less. So imagine my distress when I read about the evils of pvc ( or any vinyl product, it seems) over on building greentv.com I keep seeing all these great uses for pvc pipe in the garden, and in designing my banners it became the support of choice. It accessorizes with all of those wonderful little elbows, tees and such, is easy to glue into any number of configurations, and its flexibility allows the banners to sway in the wind in a most seductive manner. Since learning of its down side, I have been dispensing that information and encouraging customers to go with the alternative wooden pole. So far, only one person has been swayed by the green argument. What do you think? Should I no longer even offer the pvc as an option? I have been surprised by the green credentials of some who have shunned the wood in favor of the pvc.

So much to share, but right now I will just say Hello, Welcome, Let me hear from you.

I took a class over the internet through PCC. In six weeks, two sessions per week, I learned enough to get my web site up and running. A new course of six weeks of lessons just began, so I expect the site to improve exponentially as more of this arcane artform is revealed to me.

Friends have been especially helpful by sharing their impressions and suggestions. I welcome any and all feedback.

Talk to me.