He was here again, my little guy, spending Mother's Day weekend with me. He arrived at noon on Saturday and after our hugs and kisses he said he needed to check out his seeds.
So we went out back where his seeds are now about 2 inches tall.
"Wow, Nana, I sure musta planted a bunch of seeds. Wow!"
Told you. I think everything is growing except the solar light and that remains to be seen.
It was drizzly this weekend, not a good time to be in the gardens, so we had to choose Plan B. We never really make plans, they usually just present themselves to my little guy and me. While we waited for a plan, I asked him about school.
"Oh yeah. It's about humus and sand and clay, things like that. You got any clay, Nana? If you have clay, I can show you what to do. Oh, you were an art teacher, you already know, so do you have clay?"
Plan B had presented itself.
Of course I had clay and I dug a chunk out of its sealed container and offered it to him in a well used butter tub that would also seal easily. Surprisingly enough even after years of unuse, it had remained moist; easy for Ethan to use.
"What will you make?" I asked him.
"Balls and marbles for seeds, that's all I want to make," he said.
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A memory hit me loud and clear: Seed balls. Obviously it had ventured into his mind as well. He's almost 8 now. One time when he was almost 4, we made seed balls. So I grabbed a cup of potting soil and rounded up some seeds to add to the clay and we made seed balls. He had forgotten the story I'd told him before, maybe he was too young to remember anything but the making. Our Native American ancestors made seed balls to take with them when they traveled to new territory, then once settled they placed the little balls wherever they wanted new plants to grow. So we made seed balls and talked about Indians and humus and roots and worms and wondered if the worms liked clay. He thought maybe they might like it better if it had straw mixed in. But I didn't have any straw.
"Did you ever eat humous (aka hummus)?" I asked him.
"You talk funny, Nana," said this grandson of mine who has grown up in Indianapolis while I remained in Kentucky. There is a sound difference between us, you know. It usually doesn't matter.
"I don't eat the soil but I have eaten the food. Now, Nana, the difference is in how you say the 'u'. If you're talking about food it's a short 'u' sound, but if you are talking about soil, it's the long 'u'. Now which one are you talking about?
Who's the teacher here?
"You been Googlin' again, Ethan?"
"No, Nana, I read books too, you know." His smiling eyes twinkle.
So we said our good byes a little while ago, no tears ever for us; we know we'll be together again soon.
"Happy Mother's Day, Nana, I'll be back when the seed balls are dry and we'll put them in our pockets and drop them wherever we go. Promise."
Another little memory, another little promise, tucked away in my heart.
Happy Mother's Day.
ATP T-Shirt Parade
May 2012
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| fiwit | vic | tarev |
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| plantladylin | gingin | woofie |
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| Sharon | Dutchlady1 | valleylynn |
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| Onewish1 | Bubbles | Shannon |
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| flaflwrgrl | Newyorkrita | Sherri |
I've never aspired to be the world's greatest gardener but I sure have a lot of fun gardening. Most of that fun is not planned, it simply just happens.
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Remember the rose, the one with the cane that I forgot to cut back last fall? The one that grew and bloomed bright red in the top of the wisteria a few weeks ago?
Well.
Actually Trish has been talking about vertical gardening. I was going to write about how creative I was this year and planned that all these roses would fit right into her topic, but you know better than that. My garden plans would never win a prize and that's for sure; besides, none of this was planned. It just went ahead and happened mostly without me.
So here are the roses that first appeared in the top of the youngest wisteria. They are the roses my neighbor tossed and I caught, so I don't know their names. Pretty though.
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Be sure to enlarge the last image above, it is just too cool.
That's about an 8 foot trellis against the clothesline pole, so you can get an idea of how far above my head the roses are.
Then there's New Dawn, the thorniest rose known to mankind but oh boy the scent makes it one of my favorites. I planted it beneath the largest wisteria in my back yard; I'd like to say I planned it but the truth is, I didn't have another trellis, so I figured it might as well decorate that wisteria. It did, all the way up to the top of it and the top of the wisteria is even with my roof line.
You can't see the blooms very well. I guess I could climb upon the roof and get a better photo looking down, but it might be best that I don't. Just trust me when I tell you that wherever you see white in the foliage photos, that's New Dawn high above my head. I think I won't cut any canes this fall and see what happens next year. My neighbors just shake their heads anyway, so it really doesn't matter.
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This is Peggy Martin. She came to me by way of a writing friend named Benny. Originally this rose survived days underwater in New Orleans during Hurricane Katrina. She has quite a history and I've had her since 2009. That was the year of the Ice Storm of the Century here in WKentucky, the one that destroyed so many trees including my beloved redbud. I thought. I didn't cut the redbud down, hoping it might survive a little bit, even if only a small part of it. I planted Peggy Martin at its base, thinking even if I did have to cut the redbud, I could leave some of its trunk. But it didn't die, it just lost a few limbs. The redbud and Miss Peggy are now living happily ever after.
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Peggy yesterday and then today.
And then there's Granny Laurie's Rose. I wrote an article about her last year when she decided to take over the back corner of my house. Granny Laurie was Ninna's mother, my great grandmother. Actually this rose has a name too, Dorothy Perkins. She also has a history. If you know a little bit about this old climber you'll know that it received an award from the National Rose Society in Great Britain in 1908. To this day, the Dorothy Perkins climbing rose graces the walls of such places as Windsor Castle along with this tiny little castle that I call home.
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The picture on the left was taken last June, the one to the right was taken yesterday, April 29. Not quite as full yet, but every bit as tall. Again.
I really wish I had made better plans; I wish I'd realized that roses have a mind of their own. It's fun though, because no matter what I do, Mother Nature does it her way. I don't really have a lot to say about it. I only have a few roses and haven't had them very long, all except Granny Laurie's rose and it's been here as long as I have.
It's a lot of fun to wake up to all these new rose surprises. Vertical gardening, Trish, for sure!
Happy May!
I want to remember this date. I've had the plant for about 3 years and this is the first time it has bloomed. It is maybe my most beautiful iris and its name is Pompano Peach. It was given to me by Muddymitts.
I so desperately need to weed.
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I just have to remember yesterday. Ethan will be 8 in July and though he's spent many springtime weeks with me, he's never been here during an unusual spring such as this is. Everything that could possibly bloom at this time of year is blooming.
He lives near Indianapolis and since I'm in a warmer zone, there is a difference. Over the years he's helped me garden, so he's no novice when it comes to mulch and seeds and soil and blooms.
The velvety petals of a simple old iris fascinated him. "Look at this, Nana, this bloom is velvet and furry and smooth all at the same time. And look at this, see where the color changes? What makes that happen all in one petal, Nana??"
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Cells and pigment and veins and stems and roots and petals, I thought I was answering, but maybe I was stumbling around with my words.
Then we went out back and he said he wanted to try something different but needed paper and a pencil and a leaf. He gathered what he needed and started to work. "Do you need a hammer, Ethan?" I asked. We had done leaf pounding a couple of years ago and that's what I thought he was planning to do.
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"No, the pencil is fine. I'm just going to write green words. But I do need my iPod."
"Your iPod. To write green words. Why do you need your iPod?"
"Because I need to Google a word."
He had an iPod, got it for Christmas, but I thought it was for games and word programs, maybe math for when he traveled; I had no clue it was set up for the net. So he went inside and got his iPod.
"How do you spell it, Nana?"
"Ummmmm, spell what?"
"That word, the one about the green stuff in leaves."
"Chlorophyll?"
"That's it!! Now can you spell it for me?"
He Googled chlorophyll and he used his pencil to write green words with a leaf between two pieces of paper. And he told me all about chlorophyll.
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Then he filled a pot with soil.
"Got any seeds, Nana?"
In the pot he planted an entire package of petunia seeds, a package of sunflower seeds, some creeping jenny he dug from my yard, 7 maple seeds and one solar light. They'll probably all grow in that little pot.
Last night we decided to 'camp out' in my den, he on the loveseat and me in the recliner.
"I need my iPod again."
"What are you Googling this time?"
"I wanna know what makes those petals all fuzzy and furry and different colors. How do you spell petal, is it pedel or is it petel?"
I guess we're about even. When I was 7, I had Aunt Bett and Ninna. Now that he's 7 he has Google. I reckon I can't compete with Google.
