Prologue: I know. Dictionaries don't have prologues, but convention is not a theme at Iten's Acres. This should have probably been like the second or third entry in this developing blog, but I'm a little random so here it is now. And, of course, the WIA Dictionary will not be alphabetized. Random must rule!
Walking Iten's Acres: the process of ricocheting from flower bed to flower bed until one finds oneself in the back meadow. The process then becomes more of a meander until the wild area is reached. Then? Back to the ricocheting on the various paths. Backtracking is required. Stopping is also a necessity in order to walk properly. Sitting in the green throne on the top of the hill may also come into play. Yes, sitting quietly and observing is an integral part of Walking Iten's Acres.
Opera (literally "willing work"): Everything done on Iten's Acres is opera. The singing is provided by my feathered friends. Totally random of course. Barking dogs may also be part of the melodic symphony that accompanies my willing work.
Discombobulate: The feeling I have this year since the weather has messed up all my meticulous note keeping about what should bloom when and where. There is a feeling that I'm going to miss something. Beauty is a terrible thing to miss.
Feeding the Bluebirds: The mowing of the front of the Acres. It is absolutely essential that you stop, turn off the mower, and sit quietly. Then, the bluebirds come and reap the bug harvest stirred up by the mowing. The longer you sit, the more birds join the party. Robins, goldfinch, cardinals, red-winged blackbirds, catbirds, sparrows of all kinds. Makes a nice lunch break, even if I'm not the one eating.
Feeding the Swallows: The mowing of the back of the Acres. It is absolutely essential that you not stop. These velvet acrobats enjoy circling the mower, flying right at you, coming from all sides, feasting on the fleeing insects. It is, believe it or not Ripley, a source of joy.
Serenity: 1) walking and being totally ignored by the bluebirds as they roam the Acres. I have been accepted as a non-threatening aspect of their lives 2) standing in the back meadow on a clear night overwhelmed by the majesty of a starlit sky 3) lying on the floor upstairs listening to the rain dance on the roof 4) the moment when one is surprised by beauty. 5) The sound of two little children calling out "Hi Al" (The list goes on, but I'll stop for now.)
Plague: A bad mosquito time: see spring of 2012
Expectation: The time spent from December to March wondering what bulbs that were planted in the fall will come to life in the spring.
Anticipation: The sense that today as you walk some new beauty will be blooming that was not blooming yesterday--or even this morning.
Gardening Angels: Those responsible for secretly planting new species each year at the Acres or for moving flowers to a new place that they've never been before. (Responsible this year already for a new elderberry bush, a columbine in a new place, an unknown wild flower in Bed 1 (The Morning Glory Bed), a Bronze Dutch iris in the Red and White Bed. More to come! I hope.
Outlaws: My two furry friends--Bonnie and Gus (No, I still haven't convinced Aaron to rename Gus Clyde). Walking companions at times. Work supervisors at times. Fertilizers at times. Skunk, rabbit, and ground hog exterminators at times (one of those activities is not appreciated). Occasional rascals--they do like to dig at times. Always more than happy to be petted and loved on.
Mulch: That practice that is used sparingly in order to ensure a new crop of larkspur, cosmos, snapdragons, etc. Yes, my gardens are "weedy." But it's worth the laziness. For example, the Rainbow Bed outside Mom's window, at one time had one balloon flower. This year there are over fifty.
Weeds: Plants that if we found them in the wild area would produce "oohs" and "aahhs" but in a flower bed are called "weeds" and summarily hated. Dandelions and buck thorn are, however, weeds and deserve to be despised.
Peace: When worries evaporate as one walks the Acres and breathes in the loveliness.
Compost: The leftovers that the Outlaws munch on if I toss them out back.
Varmints: Rabbits, deer, groundhogs. Walnut trees. Mosquitoes and ticks. Not even Iten's Acres is perfect.
Meadow: The open expanse at the back of the property. Great place for star gazing, feeding swallows, chatting over the fence with a good neighbor, sitting on a green throne.
Margins: The sides of the meadow that are allowed to grow wild. Home to a variety of birds. The goldfinch in particular like to nest in the margins. Every year they get just a tad wider.
Back Forty: The very back of the property, past the wild flower area, the place to stand and look back up at the house. When one arrives here, it is time to turn around and begin the meandering back. No, it is not forty of anything.
Iris--iris
Pepsi--Pepsi is the tree of life; coke came after the fall. (I just had to include that, sorry.)
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Friday, May 18, 2012
The Ides of May
The Ides of May have passed. Safe. Safe at last. The one thing--the only thing--the weather geniuses have gotten right every year since I made Iten Acres my home is the frost date. No more frost after May 15th (at least until late fall anyway). What does that mean for the labor force at the Acres? No more covering things at night for one thing. But more importantly in the beauty department--I can now plant annuals. All my poor pots that have been sitting waiting to play their role in the loveliness of the grounds now get their chance. I think I may have about fifty of them--all different sizes and even a few different colors. Now, they are decorated.
Being naturally paranoid, I usually wait until about the 20th to go flower shopping. My favorite place is Baker's Acres, but I have not been able to go there since Mom arrived. They're just too far away. I couldn't leave her alone for as long as it would take to go there, shop, and come home--at least five hours round trip with the meandering through their flowers. They have more variety by far than anyone else around here. Ahhh well, perhaps another spring unless Mom outlives me. You never know. Anyway, second choice is Oakland Park Nursery in Delaware. It takes a couple of hours to go there even, shop, and return.
First priority is the "container garden" outside Mom's window on the patio where she loves to spend her mornings. Her favorites are marigolds, geraniums, lantana, and petunias. She already had several glorious containers of dianthus and pinks that had survived the warm winter--red, white, and pink everywhere. I also had already planted some pansies for her and a knockout red rose. Now, she has the entire "painting." Naturally, I added a few of my favorites: snapdragons, verbena, dahlias, begonia. In a couple of weeks, it will be gorgeous. Not that Mom isn't easy to please. She even thinks dandelions are beautiful. If only we all could see beauty everywhere we look--even at the weeds of life. I also planted a couple of "surprises" in her garden--calla lilies. I like surprises. I can't wait until they come up! (But I guess I'll have to.)
I also have "gardens" on the back patio, by the canopy, by the bird bath in The Conifer Bed. And I have pots scattered everywhere--by the pond, by the "doghouse," by the treeline, and, would you believe it, in the trees, in the meadow, and even in the wild area. "You can't have too much beauty" is the motto of Iten's Acres. Well, one of them anyway.
The nice thing about annuals is that once you plant them they bloom the rest of the spring, summer, and fall. They have no season like the perennials that have a "time" for blooming and then stop. And they keep getting larger and larger as the year goes on; more and more lovely. And many of them are propagators. They seed themselves and come back next year all on their own. (That's one of the reasons I don't mulch much. I'll endure some weedy gardens for more flowers.) I don't even have to plant cosmos, morning glories, or larkspur anymore if I can help it. (I can't always help it.) They have become annual perennials.
"Solomon in all his glory is not arrayed like one of these."
Aren't you glad you worship a God who loves the beautiful?
The Ides of May have passed. Safe. Safe at last. The one thing--the only thing--the weather geniuses have gotten right every year since I made Iten Acres my home is the frost date. No more frost after May 15th (at least until late fall anyway). What does that mean for the labor force at the Acres? No more covering things at night for one thing. But more importantly in the beauty department--I can now plant annuals. All my poor pots that have been sitting waiting to play their role in the loveliness of the grounds now get their chance. I think I may have about fifty of them--all different sizes and even a few different colors. Now, they are decorated.
Being naturally paranoid, I usually wait until about the 20th to go flower shopping. My favorite place is Baker's Acres, but I have not been able to go there since Mom arrived. They're just too far away. I couldn't leave her alone for as long as it would take to go there, shop, and come home--at least five hours round trip with the meandering through their flowers. They have more variety by far than anyone else around here. Ahhh well, perhaps another spring unless Mom outlives me. You never know. Anyway, second choice is Oakland Park Nursery in Delaware. It takes a couple of hours to go there even, shop, and return.
First priority is the "container garden" outside Mom's window on the patio where she loves to spend her mornings. Her favorites are marigolds, geraniums, lantana, and petunias. She already had several glorious containers of dianthus and pinks that had survived the warm winter--red, white, and pink everywhere. I also had already planted some pansies for her and a knockout red rose. Now, she has the entire "painting." Naturally, I added a few of my favorites: snapdragons, verbena, dahlias, begonia. In a couple of weeks, it will be gorgeous. Not that Mom isn't easy to please. She even thinks dandelions are beautiful. If only we all could see beauty everywhere we look--even at the weeds of life. I also planted a couple of "surprises" in her garden--calla lilies. I like surprises. I can't wait until they come up! (But I guess I'll have to.)
I also have "gardens" on the back patio, by the canopy, by the bird bath in The Conifer Bed. And I have pots scattered everywhere--by the pond, by the "doghouse," by the treeline, and, would you believe it, in the trees, in the meadow, and even in the wild area. "You can't have too much beauty" is the motto of Iten's Acres. Well, one of them anyway.
The nice thing about annuals is that once you plant them they bloom the rest of the spring, summer, and fall. They have no season like the perennials that have a "time" for blooming and then stop. And they keep getting larger and larger as the year goes on; more and more lovely. And many of them are propagators. They seed themselves and come back next year all on their own. (That's one of the reasons I don't mulch much. I'll endure some weedy gardens for more flowers.) I don't even have to plant cosmos, morning glories, or larkspur anymore if I can help it. (I can't always help it.) They have become annual perennials.
"Solomon in all his glory is not arrayed like one of these."
Aren't you glad you worship a God who loves the beautiful?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)