My Gardens, My Friends

You know how ideas drift through your mind as you're falling asleep? I often wonder if my unconscious holds things in reserve just for those moments when a drifting thought will get the attention it deserves. Then two synapses, virtual strangers until that moment, connect and something that should have been apparent and wasn't is now revealed.

So it occurred to me the other night that so much of my gardens is wrapped up with my friends. I started thinking about all the plants I treasure, and how they're a living scrapbook of so many of the people I share my life with.

Like this purple columbine. Jay and I starting taking yoga years ago with a woman who is arguably the fairy grandmother of yoga teachers in our region. Doreen owns a two-story house in one of the oldest neighborhoods in Lebanon, NH. Her yard is small but packed with veggies and flowers--no grass for Doreen is a woman after my own heart.

Anyway, at this time of year, both sides of her driveway are lined with this incredible purple columbine. When you turn the flowers over, there are small white cones underneath and these are, in turn, tinged with purple and a hint of green.

I begged for seeds and Doreen complied. I sowed them in one of the two small gardens by my front door and nearly forgot about them because they never appeared. (Or I accidentally pulled up many of the seedlings because I mistook them for weeds.) Then one spring, I realized I had a purple columbine. Saved the seeds, of course, and now they're in four of my gardens.

So I think of Doreen whenever I see these wonderful flowers in bloom. Namaste.

Creative Act #5: When Life Gives You Dirt, Garden

We are in the midst of one of the nicest springs most of us can remember. There have been a few hot days -- two of them up into the 90s which is waste of heat as far as I am concerned -- but this weekend has been superb, high 70s, little humidity, a light breeze that prevents most of the assorted biting insects from landing on your skin.

Yep, perfect gardening weather.

Like all gardeners, I feel perpetually behind on what needs to be done -- planting, weeding, getting the grass out from between the stones in the walkways. But this year, I have a big project on top of all the smaller, perpetual needs.

We used to have a string of knee-high planter boxes across the back part of our yard with trellises across the top. For years, they've held impatiens on the shady side and a variety of climbers on the sunny side. Last fall, we realized that the planters were in pretty bad shape and this spring, we realized they couldn't be saved.

Most of them are now doing their final turn as compost containers and I have this long, wide space of open soil, the topsoil that was in the containers needs to be used, I need more space for squash, and we really miss the privacy screen we got from the trellises.

So that's where I've been for the past two days, moving dirt and rearranging and weeding and picking the worst of the stones out of the soil. Sometimes, like now, I kinda yearn for winter when I can stay inside and quilt or read. But then I walk among the flowers and realize how much care and love shows itself off in flowery form in my yard. And I know this is where I'm supposed to be.

A Rose-Colored Path

After days of "wait and see, wait and see," our red peonies burst into bloom. Their color is so luscious, you can feel it on your tongue.

But they are also an example of the most fleeting kinds of beauty for as soon as I plucked them and placed their stems in water, the petals began to drop off.

So what do you get when you add a small mound of red petals to a husband who never seems to run out of clever ideas? A petal-strewn walk from studio to house.

Yep, I think I'll keep him.

Thrill Number 5, Not Cheap

I've become part of a loosely organized steering committee for this grand new venture called the Upper Valley Sew-Op. It's an extension of the programming done by the Upper Valley Food Coop in White River Junction, Vermont, and it's turning out to be quite interesting.

Right now, we're in that lovely (to me, anyways) chaotic state of starting when everything is possible and those who show up get to lead—and anyone can show up.

I'll be writing far more about this as time goes one but I wanted to share an experience from last night.

The Sew-Op room is big enough for three long tables where you can sit six people with sewing machines. We've been open since March with what we've called Open Hours that were loosely defined as "you show up and we'll help you to sew or chat and work alongside you."

We started slow and quiet, working on our own projects, chatting, getting to know one another, and wondering if anyone would ever show up. Well, I can now report that it's been quite a few weeks since I've done any work of my own. It seems we've uncovered a need and people want us to fill it.

Last night, one of the other Sew-Oppers and I volunteered to help a troupe of Girl Scouts who are working on sewing badges. Ten girls, four other adult women, and the two of us in this room. High energy reigned supreme (which is another way of saying that the need for attention in several different directions at the same time was acute).

One of the troupers is a sweet little one named Natalie who has some mental challenges. But she charged right into the midst of the action.

At the beginning of our session, I taught the girls how to make no-sew hair scrunchies using some of the ribbon and lace and other bling that's been donated to the Sew-Op. I also brought some of the cloth bags I made as prototypes when I did my Gifting Green book. (See the cover above—and it's available on Amazon.)

The bags were hit, and I noticed Natalie hugging hers.

We interacted a couple of times but I didn't get to sew with her. Then, as we were cleaning up, Natalie came over, bag in her arms, wrapped her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the cheek to say thanks. I was struck by the genuine warmth that flowed from the child, and literally felt her touch my heart.

Thrill number five but hardly cheap.

Hazel-Rah and Fiver

If you look through my list of 60 favorite books to read this year, you'll notice there's a heavy contingent of what gets categorized as "fantasy"–Tolkien, Harry Potter, Alice in Wonderland, you get the idea.

But the fact is that most of what gets put in this category doesn't interest me at all because my real interest is magic, the changing of consciousness. I seek out those moments when I am lifted out of myself, when the outside walls of my physical body dissolve and I move inside another world, one that I'm making in conjunction with the artist. I wait for those moments during a good movie or play or concert when I'm not here any more but transported.

That's what I look for in good fiction as well, magic, a change in consciousness. And traveling with Hazel and Fiver and Bigwig and all the rest of the rabbits in Richard Adams' incredible book, Watership Down, is an act of magic.

Aaaah.

Ferning

Gardening is the most direct connection we have to the earth. Pushing those DNA packets we call seeds into the soil, adding water, making choices about which green things live and which don't in the space we're tending, it just doesn't get more primal than that.

Some of our closest neighbors on our river are ferns. Their lacy texture has fascinated the human eye forever. Of the six subjects that I want to study this year (or start studying -- I have a hunch that this is the beginning of a lifelong research project), plants are the first on the list. Of course, that's a GIANT subject so it yearns for a narrower focus. Since one of the books I found at the 5 Colleges Book Sale this April was a guide to ferns, the narrowing was simple.

This is a photograph of maidenhair fern. We've been watching this patch at the foot of a tree along our path for several years, carefully extracting anything that tries to grow among its fronds. This is the starlet among the ferns we have here because it is so rare. Every so often, I think I've spotted another patch in the early spring when it rises pink and curled from the soil. But I can never find it a second time.

A May Morning Walk, Creative Act 1

Goldie and I took a walk this morning, taking pictures. Well, I was taking pictures while Goldie walked or waited patiently for me. This is some of what we saw:

• Dames rockets

• Lots of different kinds of ferns

• The view upriver from the North Point of our land

• The purple columbine in front of our house

• The garden in front of my garden shed

• Creeping Veronica and bachelor's buttons

• Red peonies in full bloom

• The Canada goose family

Goslings 1,2,3,4,5

The sun had no cloudy competition when it rose this morning but after two years of cold, wet summers, it still seems suspiciously nice outside.

We slip on our boots so the dew won't soak our footware and take off for a walk through the pink and lilac haze created by the dames rockets that carpet the understory at this point in the springtime parade. Every so often, we walk past a spot where the sun sneaks through the trees, warming the blossoms so they scent the air.

As we turn toward the short path that takes us to the rocky hook we call the North Point, my binocular-toting husband stops and points through the the limbs of a tree that took refuge in the river a few years ago. Our neighborhood Canada geese, their black heads and white necklaces in profile, rise silently to their feet. The first slides into the water followed by a waddling bunch of fluffy brown feathers with a greenish tinge. The three-week old baby goose is now the size of a small duck.

The goslings, the quintet we've been watching enjoy the islets around Hazen Island, quickly follow their first parent into the river, all in silence, while the second parent turns its head to keep us in view. I walk a few steps further up the path, taking it slow so I don't start the birds, and we watch while the family glides downstream.

They see us often as we stop and admire their admirable parenting skills. We worry when we don't see them at least once in 24 hours and anxiously count the small ones each time they appear -- 1,2,3,4,5.

It's going to be hot today but the babies are fine. What could be better that being in that cool water hanging out with Mom and Dad?

That Warm, Glowy Feeling

Just a short post for today.

Started book #2 last night -- Watership Down. Now I'm deep in the business of Hazel-rah and Fiver and Bigwig and the whole band. It is still one of the most delightful fantasies I've ever read.

I like that's it's not one of those Medieval-lite books with castles and fair maidens with heaving bosoms and knights in shining armor slaying dragons. To my mind, boring. Watership is mature, more like you'd imagine an adventure would be. Troublesome things, as Bilbo Baggins would say. (And will get to say later on this year because J.R.R. Tolkien is on my list.)

And we had a surprise birthday party for our friend Kristin today. And we really did surprise her. It's been a while since we've had our friends over to the house and so we got to show off the granite countertop and new cabinetry that Jay put in. And another friend that we haven't seen for a long time, Dennis, came up to share the day. He and Kristin and my Jay used to teach together.

The weather continues dry and warm. My body, which seems to be sore everywhere, will be sort of glad to get out of full-time gardening and back to work at the computer. But I'm going to make sure I do a little gardening every day.

Also got our kayaks out on the river yesterday and today with Kristin. The dames rockets are out and the woods are just filled with bird song and scent.

It just doesn't get any better than this.

Cheap Thrill Number 4 -- Stash!

Two friends named Joanne and Cathy had a stash reduction sale today. I was the first one there. Well, what would you do when someone says they're selling batiks and African prints for $6 a pound? (For you yardage friends, there's about 4 yards in a pound of fabric.)

African prints are somewhat of a rarity in quilt shops around here. You get a lot more traditional fabrics -- flowers, tone-on-tone, geometrics, small prints -- but I love the bright and different use of colors in African prints.

And batiks -- well, they are heavenly. If you love color, batiks are like the perfect sunset at the end of a perfect day.

In any case, $90 later, I've made a sizable transfer of stash from Cathy to me. That's about $1.50 a yard. Batiks run from $9 to $10 per yard when new and off the bolt.

Major stash score. I'm happy.

This qualifies as cheap thrill number 4!

And I finished A Room with a View by E.M. Forster last night. My favorite quote: "There is no rehearsal for life." I think this one's a bumper sticker.

Blue Sky Up Above

Lady Nature has surely smiled on me this week. The temps are just what I like -- in the 60s and 70s with little humidity. I've been able to get into my gardens and truly get a jump on the season. There's still a lot to do but without this week, it would be August before I caught up and then you're never caught up.

We've been watching this pair of Canada geese and their five goslings for two weeks now. Love those baby sightings and am amazed, all over again, at how fast the goslings change. My husband saw them barely out of the egg, all covered with yellow down. When I first spotted them, there were a few greenish feathers on their backs. Yesterday, the green color has spread and there are dark tips to their tail feathers.

We had a few moments of anxiety because we could only see one gosling, then three and then finally five. Also interesting to hear -- sort of -- how very quiet the parents can be. Usually they're busy announcing their presence but nary a peep now.

Coffee with a friend this morning. I've spent a lot of time lunching this week, something I never do. It's great to have time to really talk with my friends and family, really great.

Gardener's Exhaustion

I took this whole week off to work on my gardens, something I've been promising myself to do for years. And it's really worked out. Yesterday was a full day of soaking-in rain so today, I got two veggie gardens planted, cleaned up a flower garden that was weedy, and got a good start on a new garden to replace my beloved planter boxes.

But I am so tired, there's nothing left for the evening.

I got a cheap thrill -- Number 3 -- yesterday when I became the new owner of 50 quilt books. Their former owner, a wonderful woman in my quilt guild named Patty Radway, is moving into a longterm care facility and had to downsize. She knows I love books so she called and offered to give them to me.

There were only 4 duplicates and lots of other interesting stuff. I'm keeping 31 of them and will sell the rest. I plan to look through the ones I'm keeping again tonight -- or read A Room with a View.

Either way, I win.

Cheap Thrills 1 and 2, Book 1

A cheap thrill is anything that you enjoy and get to enjoy again; anything you've ever wanted to do but never quite got around to doing it and then you do; a good score on something you want (in other words, it's free -- which is the perfect price -- or at a cost so reasonable, you're more than willing to buy it); or redoing something you've always wanted to again.

So my first Cheap Thrills of the year came last night. I love being outdoors (except when it's a torrential downpour or below zero -- that's kind of tough) and always take our dog Goldie out for a last turn around the yard before we all head to bed. We live on a river in Vermont in a place where the color green dominates the landscape at this time of year.

Last night, the frogs were singing their love songs down in the river in the shallow pools made by the sand and rocks. That's cheap thrill number one.

And then as I looked off to the west at the trees that dominate the road in that direction, I saw fireflies. I've never seen fireflies on my birthday before. Like everything else this spring, they're about three weeks ahead of schedule. But watching those fairy lights was so satisfying. Cheap thrill number 2.

Started my first book of the 60 Season: A Room with a View by E.M. Forster, one of my favorite turn-of-the-century authors. I love the sly way he gets his comments on British society into his narrative, like the person you know with the dry sense of humor that you need to catch out of the side of his mouth if you catch it at all.

And the movie with Helena Bonham Carter is a favorite too.

The Power of 60 Begins

Today I turn 60 years old. I thought I was going to dread this birthday but it's been wonderful talking with so many friends and family and getting remembered. And my horoscope says this is going to be one of my most powerful years ever.

So begins the Power of 60 project -- 5 days to do whatever I want (from today through Saturday) and then 6 terms of 60 days, each one devoted to reading (or re-reading) my favorite books, cooking new recipes (60 new-to-me by the end of the year) learning about 6 new subjects, writing six books (including the one that will come out of this blog), experiencing 60 cheap thrills (which get defined however I want to define them) and 60 creative acts.

By this day next year, I aim to be more creative, better educated about some of the things I care about, writing even more, and having a lot of fun.

And I want you all to come with me, read along, talk along, send recipes! And all suggestions for cheap thrills are welcome.

It's off to get something for lunch and then I'm grabbing my sketch pad and colored pencils and Goldie and I are setting out for the gardens where I am going to draw.

Make me a wish and I'll make one for you!