Blooming


What is it that we love so much about spring?

Is it the sense of rebirth? The glory of a new beginning? The birds chirping?

For me it’s getting in the dirt. I plant flowers mostly, with a veggie here and there just for the adventure.

I can’t crawl around on the ground like I used to. Well, I can get down there but I’d never manage to get back up. So, I have this neat little wagon/chair/trolley (you can find one on Amazon.com) as my planting buddy. It serves me well.

I also have a really good landscaper. He does a great job as well.

I spent 15 years living in a townhouse with very limited growing space, mostly in pots on the patio, but now I have a house again and can enjoy all the planting Spring has to offer. Not to mention Fall, which is great for planting shrubs and trees. See that pic up there? All those beautiful azaleas were planted last Fall, along with a dogwood and a redbud tree. They already bloomed this Spring and I really should have taken pictures. Darn.

Here’s the other end, in front of the porch.

I’m still working on the back yard, so no pics yet. Maybe next time.

 

 

 

Been awhile ..


It’s been about three years since I last posted on this blog. It’s been a little over two years since my mom died after a long battle with Alzheimer’s. Just did’t feel like talking.

A new family member …

IMG_0738

Katie is a little over one year old, has yellow and white fur, and is smarter than I am (not much of a stretch really). She was a pound kitty and practically feral when I got her and I spent the first few months trying to entice her off a dining room chair. Now, she’s so lovey-dovey she’ll even sit in my lap and let me pet her—for about a minute.

She’s worse than a dog about following me around the house, however, and is very vocal when she thinks it’s time to refill her kibble bowl or clean her box. She really hates a messy litter box and since I hate cleaning it, she’s becoming something of a nag. Cute, but a nag nonetheless. She likes a lot of attention so I’m thinking about getting a puppy to keep her occupied so I can read, or nap, uninterrupted.

We’ll see how it goes.

A new house …

I moved to a new house a little over a year ago. I’d been at the condo/townhouse for about 15 years and wanted to have a yard again. Not sure why that was so important to me since I don’t like mowing and am not particularly fond of weeding either, but I do like looking out the window and seeing grass and trees instead of a parking lot or a swimming pool full of screaming kids.

And, I really was getting awfully fed up with the HOA police patrol always finding fault with my patio or fence or carport. I mean did those folks have nothing better to do than walk around the complex to see who’d sat a pot of flowers on their carport?

A new gig …

I recently retired and now have time to think about stuff and can get back to blogging. Well, it’s either that or cleaning house. I hate cleaning house. It’s right up there with going to the dentist or waiting for car repairs.

See, I’m getting back into the swing of this already.

 

 

Gettin’ potted …


Having cats in the house can make raising potted plants a bit challenging.

IMG_0152My cats liked to eat and/or play with house plants. Their favorite targets were peace lilies and violets but any old kind of plant would do in a pinch. They did not, however, mess with ficus, which is why I have two 7-foot-tall beauties, grown from sprouts. Any other kind of plant, though, was fair game.

IMG_0159Both Ollie and Emily passed in the last couple of years. I adored them (even when they were being evil) and miss them terribly.

The house felt kind of empty without them (I’m just not ready for more lovable furry creatures) so I decided to get a peace lily. That led to a finger leaf philodendren, which led to a croton, then a spider plant.

I think it’s beginning to get out of hand 

IMG_0154They’re all here in my home office, keeping me company on the days I work at home—and not making a single mess anywhere.

No more drifts of fuzzy hair under the furniture, no spills around the water bowl, no water bowl. Ah, the joys of no litter box.

On the flip side, there’s also no snuggling or purring or leg rubbing.

Hmmm.