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“A weed is a plant that has mastered every survival skill except for learning how to grow in rows.”
~ Doug Larson
~ Doug Larson
When I was a little girl growing up in southern Mississippi, Garden Clubs were a big deal. Now mind you me, I never attended one, nor did anyone in my family. I truly had no reference to what went on behind the closed doors. I did carefully observe my friends' moms, who actually went to Garden Club meetings. From those observations, I surmised that you had to belong to the club, had to dress up in a pretty dress and heels, and have a bit of money or pull in the community. The word "snooty" always popped up in my brain when I thought of Garden Club.
I had no real frame of Garden Club reference. My mom was an avid flower gardener with exceptional rose beds, zinnias, sweet peas, and more, but she wasn't in Garden Club. Several brides even came to our house and begged for roses for their wedding bouquet and flower girl baskets! Mama usually told them, "It's a deal, as long as my daughter gets to be the flower girl." (That would be me - perpetual flower girl to many a bride.) Still, she wasn't in the local Garden Club. I'm sure it didn't bother her, as she thought bridge clubs, Garden Clubs, and anything of the sort a waste of good time.
So my imagination took hold and I mostly thought of Garden Clubs as a playground for rich white women in pouffy dresses and big hats. There was no dirt under those Southern Belle fingernails for certain!
Fast forward to a different country and continent - Uruguay in South America. Imagine my surprise when a friend called and asked if I'd like to come to her next Garden Club meeting. My first thought was - "Oh mylanta - I had no frilly dresses or big hats!"
She assured me it would be casual, as we were going to tour a member's vegetable garden to learn some organic gardening tips and tricks. "Be prepared to get muddy feet," she warned.
What? Vegetable garden? Casual? Muddy feet? I felt as if I'd fallen down the rabbit hole. I decided to go - hey, it was a free lunch! Knock me over with a feather - when I arrived, I encountered a bunch of women in baseball caps and hats that looked like fishermen needed them. They wore jeans tucked into waterproof boots and sturdy jackets. In other words, my kind of women friends!
And so began my Garden Club experiences. Our club was called The Giving Tree and we took up a collection at each meeting to fund an elementary school garden, a local village garden, and other worthwhile projects. We romped through muddy fields looking for an elusive wild orchid, trod carefully around newly planted vegetable gardens, shared seeds, plants, and love of the Earth.
I did get to wear something pretty once in a blue moon when we would go to a restaurant for lunch afterwards, but all in all it couldn't have been more different than my misconceptions gathered over the years.
And as for the U.S. - my perception of Garden Clubs was sorely lacking, especially in today's world. Garden Clubs in the South have fundraisers to sponsor scholarships, establish vegetable gardens in schools and communities, and generally take on beautification of streets and parks in their communities.
Who knew?
I had no real frame of Garden Club reference. My mom was an avid flower gardener with exceptional rose beds, zinnias, sweet peas, and more, but she wasn't in Garden Club. Several brides even came to our house and begged for roses for their wedding bouquet and flower girl baskets! Mama usually told them, "It's a deal, as long as my daughter gets to be the flower girl." (That would be me - perpetual flower girl to many a bride.) Still, she wasn't in the local Garden Club. I'm sure it didn't bother her, as she thought bridge clubs, Garden Clubs, and anything of the sort a waste of good time.
So my imagination took hold and I mostly thought of Garden Clubs as a playground for rich white women in pouffy dresses and big hats. There was no dirt under those Southern Belle fingernails for certain!
Fast forward to a different country and continent - Uruguay in South America. Imagine my surprise when a friend called and asked if I'd like to come to her next Garden Club meeting. My first thought was - "Oh mylanta - I had no frilly dresses or big hats!"
She assured me it would be casual, as we were going to tour a member's vegetable garden to learn some organic gardening tips and tricks. "Be prepared to get muddy feet," she warned.
What? Vegetable garden? Casual? Muddy feet? I felt as if I'd fallen down the rabbit hole. I decided to go - hey, it was a free lunch! Knock me over with a feather - when I arrived, I encountered a bunch of women in baseball caps and hats that looked like fishermen needed them. They wore jeans tucked into waterproof boots and sturdy jackets. In other words, my kind of women friends!
And so began my Garden Club experiences. Our club was called The Giving Tree and we took up a collection at each meeting to fund an elementary school garden, a local village garden, and other worthwhile projects. We romped through muddy fields looking for an elusive wild orchid, trod carefully around newly planted vegetable gardens, shared seeds, plants, and love of the Earth.
I did get to wear something pretty once in a blue moon when we would go to a restaurant for lunch afterwards, but all in all it couldn't have been more different than my misconceptions gathered over the years.
And as for the U.S. - my perception of Garden Clubs was sorely lacking, especially in today's world. Garden Clubs in the South have fundraisers to sponsor scholarships, establish vegetable gardens in schools and communities, and generally take on beautification of streets and parks in their communities.
Who knew?
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"Oh, shine on, shine on harvest moon way up in the sky." - Jack Norworth / Nora Bayes
Uruguay is below the equator and that messes with my brain when it comes to seasons, holidays, and weather. It's March - my body thinks it's spring, yet it will be fall soon here in Uruguay and hence the Harvest Moon. But here's a brain freeze - why is it a Harvest Moon in the States, as well?
When I was little, the Harvest Moon and a Blue Moon were the only moons that were NAMED. There was no Snow Moon, Pink Moon, Wolf Moon, Strawberry Moon, etc. The Harvest Moon was always in the fall. I know I'm right! Where did all these named moons come from? Do we really need a name for the same old moon every month?
My elementary school, South Elementary, had a Harvest Moon festival every October. My little elementary heart loved that festival. It began in the late afternoon and continued into the evening. There were cake-walks in the cafeteria, games outside until dark, and singing in the auditorium.
I've come to like my moon shots! If you're interested in photographing the moon, here's my recipe: ISO 100-200 (no higher, it's not needed), Aperture f/8, Shutter Speed 1/200. I use a tripod and a remote release trigger for the shutter release. I have a used Nikon D7100 and an old Tokina 400mm lens that I got on eBay for very little $$.
When I was little, the Harvest Moon and a Blue Moon were the only moons that were NAMED. There was no Snow Moon, Pink Moon, Wolf Moon, Strawberry Moon, etc. The Harvest Moon was always in the fall. I know I'm right! Where did all these named moons come from? Do we really need a name for the same old moon every month?
My elementary school, South Elementary, had a Harvest Moon festival every October. My little elementary heart loved that festival. It began in the late afternoon and continued into the evening. There were cake-walks in the cafeteria, games outside until dark, and singing in the auditorium.
I've come to like my moon shots! If you're interested in photographing the moon, here's my recipe: ISO 100-200 (no higher, it's not needed), Aperture f/8, Shutter Speed 1/200. I use a tripod and a remote release trigger for the shutter release. I have a used Nikon D7100 and an old Tokina 400mm lens that I got on eBay for very little $$.
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Above - the mature stinkers; Below the babies - Either way I want no part of them!
Ugh!!! BUGS! I don't mind a spider, after all I've read Charlotte's Web a zillion times to my third grade students and cried every single time that Charlotte died. (Sorry - no spoiler alert!) However, I draw the line at some destructive garden bugs - like these aptly named leafy-footed stinkers. They have a gelatinous glow as orange and black babies, then grow into an evil looking monster.
Yes - monster. I'm not mean-spirited, but these insects are like vampires to your tomatoes. They suck the life right out of a tomato and you don't even know it until you cut the tomato open. Yuck! I'm not sure why they're called "stinkers" as I've killed my fair share and never smelled a thing.
The only way I've found to murder them is to spray vinegar on them and their nests. Eventually they die. However, they do lay eggs in the soil and will come back the next year if you don't treat the soil while it's resting (i.e. no plants or the vinegar will kill them).
Next time you want to give someone a nightmare, show them these photos...then run!
Yes - monster. I'm not mean-spirited, but these insects are like vampires to your tomatoes. They suck the life right out of a tomato and you don't even know it until you cut the tomato open. Yuck! I'm not sure why they're called "stinkers" as I've killed my fair share and never smelled a thing.
The only way I've found to murder them is to spray vinegar on them and their nests. Eventually they die. However, they do lay eggs in the soil and will come back the next year if you don't treat the soil while it's resting (i.e. no plants or the vinegar will kill them).
Next time you want to give someone a nightmare, show them these photos...then run!
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Our new raised garden beds are fantastic! I highly recommend the extra effort and expense. We have tomatoes of all sorts, cucumbers, squash, arugula (blossoms in 1st pic), spinach, basil, carrots, and onions. Every day is a garden adventure and not a chore at all; look at that view!
Sam, our red Border Collie, and Benny, our only male cat, love to garden with me. They keep me good company and hopefully chase away any slithery critters that may be lurking.
Sam, our red Border Collie, and Benny, our only male cat, love to garden with me. They keep me good company and hopefully chase away any slithery critters that may be lurking.
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"There are nights when the wolves are silent, and only the Moon howls." - George Carlin
I've never stayed up for a lunar eclipse. It's high time!
So here I am at 3:00 a.m. with a tripod, a camera, and and audience of two dogs and four cats. I'm going to get some moon shots. The eclipse seems to go on and on, because of course, I am so sleepy. The hardest part is trying to keep the dogs from knocking over the camera and the cats from knocking over me.
I have to do this again, but I'm so not a fan of getting up in the middle of the night!
For those who are fellow photographer junkies - my old camera was on a tripod with an elderly, but good 400mm lens, a remote shutter release, and my settings were f/8, ISO 100, shutter speed 1/200.
So here I am at 3:00 a.m. with a tripod, a camera, and and audience of two dogs and four cats. I'm going to get some moon shots. The eclipse seems to go on and on, because of course, I am so sleepy. The hardest part is trying to keep the dogs from knocking over the camera and the cats from knocking over me.
I have to do this again, but I'm so not a fan of getting up in the middle of the night!
For those who are fellow photographer junkies - my old camera was on a tripod with an elderly, but good 400mm lens, a remote shutter release, and my settings were f/8, ISO 100, shutter speed 1/200.
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ART !! I have always considered myself an artist/crafter. I've tried most types of art; the list is much more lengthy than the time spent on some of my "'artistic pursuits." Quite often, some, such as jewelry making, lasted about 4 hours. But oh, the hours spent looking for the perfect fabric for sewing, the perfect supplies for making wreaths or wooden necklaces (hey - it was the 80's), the perfect beads for a bracelet, or the exact shade of paint (especially for walls).
My lengthy list of pursuits includes: drawing, painting, painting walls, jewelry-making, batik, photography, sewing, ballet, piano, guitar, tap-dancing (ha, ha), baton twirling, candle-making, macrame, knitting (1-hour and I was done), and interior design (the wallpaper borders are burned in our memory).
So here I am in a foreign country - time to take up an artistic endeavor once again. Really, sewing, piano and photography are the only two I stuck with over the years. I shuffled through my art memories and decided drawing and painting should be resurrected after soooo many years. Conveniently, my piano teacher in Uruguay also teaches ART.
Kris is the most patient person on Earth, legitimized by the fact that she can soldier through teaching me piano and still have all her wits about her! We started with drawing and ended up with acrylics for painting.
Since my primary love is photography, it seems I do best when photographing my subject, then using the image as a my inspiration for a painting. Oddly enough, my favorite is one of the first paintings I did was CATFISH - my portrait of Sophie and a fish (see above photos.)
I studied painting and drawing in college, but that's been a long time. I'm classifying myself as a beginner. So much to learn - stay tuned...
My lengthy list of pursuits includes: drawing, painting, painting walls, jewelry-making, batik, photography, sewing, ballet, piano, guitar, tap-dancing (ha, ha), baton twirling, candle-making, macrame, knitting (1-hour and I was done), and interior design (the wallpaper borders are burned in our memory).
So here I am in a foreign country - time to take up an artistic endeavor once again. Really, sewing, piano and photography are the only two I stuck with over the years. I shuffled through my art memories and decided drawing and painting should be resurrected after soooo many years. Conveniently, my piano teacher in Uruguay also teaches ART.
Kris is the most patient person on Earth, legitimized by the fact that she can soldier through teaching me piano and still have all her wits about her! We started with drawing and ended up with acrylics for painting.
Since my primary love is photography, it seems I do best when photographing my subject, then using the image as a my inspiration for a painting. Oddly enough, my favorite is one of the first paintings I did was CATFISH - my portrait of Sophie and a fish (see above photos.)
I studied painting and drawing in college, but that's been a long time. I'm classifying myself as a beginner. So much to learn - stay tuned...
Little optical illusion - my glasses on top of the drawing of my glasses!
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There are two things we have no shortage of at our house - sunrises and sunsets! From the front porch we can see the sun rise beautifully over the hills. From the back porch, we have a wider view of sunsets. Nearly every sunset in clear weather is awe-inspiring stuff!
I love to sit on the porch and watch the sky look like it's on fire, then turn pink, purple, and finally deep blue. Nature has a way of reminding me of her presence each and every morning and evening.
There's a hotel/museum not far from us on the Atlantic Coast, Casa Pueblo. Every night it's a tradition for everyone to come out on their balconies and say goodnight to the sun as it sets over the Atlantic. One day, I must do this...
I love to sit on the porch and watch the sky look like it's on fire, then turn pink, purple, and finally deep blue. Nature has a way of reminding me of her presence each and every morning and evening.
There's a hotel/museum not far from us on the Atlantic Coast, Casa Pueblo. Every night it's a tradition for everyone to come out on their balconies and say goodnight to the sun as it sets over the Atlantic. One day, I must do this...
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Well, I fell in the kitchen. Apparently Sophie Kat decided to cross my path at exactly the wrong moment. (I will forever be superstitious about gray and white long-haired cats!) I tried to stop myself and ended up doing a bit of a dance going forward, causing a much harder fall from the momentum. Geez!
First thing I did was try to move my hip - scared I broke it. The hip was sore, but I could lift it up and move my leg. Then I realized my arm was pointing crookedly out to my side and would not move. I had dislocated my shoulder and literally could not get up.
What happens next is a three and one-half hour nightmare!
We don't have ambulance service out here in the campo; our neighbor called the police. The police came, but the only option was to get me on a stretcher and put me in the truck bed of their pickup. It didn't seem an ideal option, as the roads are very bumpy and I was in extreme pain. There was lots of conversation and it was decided to call the Camionera (like state troopers in the U.S.). They came, but would have to put me in the back of their pickup, as well.
Next, my Canadian friend in the nearby village was called. She and her husband came over and made some phone calls, somehow getting a rogue ambulance to come out and get me.
All in all, I was on the floor for 3 & 1/2 hours in pain. One of the policeman sat on the floor by my side, holding my hand the entire time, trying to keep me calm. I later learned it was his FIRST day as a policeman and that his name was Ángel (of course it was)!
The ambulance came with just a driver, no attendants. My friend rode with me holding my arm stable, as best she could as we sped over bumpy roads for a 35 minute ride to the hospital ER. My husband followed us; I can't imagine what he was feeling.
I ended up having surgery the following morning and received excellent care during my 3 day stay at the hospital. It was a learning curve, as hospital stays in Uruguay are a bit different. First of all, you need to bring your own soap, washcloth, towel, Kleenex, and nightclothes.
Second, the cultural belief (It makes sense!) in Uruguay seems to be that if given the opportunity, you would rather a family member or friend take care of you. It's customary for a family member or friend to stay overnight with you and during the day to take care of your needs, if possible.
Here’s my story with that. A close friend was visiting me at the hospital after my surgery. Nature called and I was not allowed to get out of bed yet, so I rang for the nurse to assist me with a bedpan. One arm was immobilized and the other hand was hooked to an IV. When the time came to dry off, the nurse handed the toilet paper to my friend. Both of our eyes grew as big as saucers, but my friend just carried on and wiped. Now that’s a friend! Yes, it does make sense you would rather a friend than a stranger take care of your needs; it’s just a different take on things! The moral of this story, if you visit a friend in hospital, be prepared to be a very “close” friend! Thank you, my CLOSE friend!
Also, no mere words can express my thanks to my Canadian friend, who stayed by my side for hours, arranged for an ambulance (and rode with me), and translated even while I screamed as they tried to put my shoulder back in place.
First thing I did was try to move my hip - scared I broke it. The hip was sore, but I could lift it up and move my leg. Then I realized my arm was pointing crookedly out to my side and would not move. I had dislocated my shoulder and literally could not get up.
What happens next is a three and one-half hour nightmare!
We don't have ambulance service out here in the campo; our neighbor called the police. The police came, but the only option was to get me on a stretcher and put me in the truck bed of their pickup. It didn't seem an ideal option, as the roads are very bumpy and I was in extreme pain. There was lots of conversation and it was decided to call the Camionera (like state troopers in the U.S.). They came, but would have to put me in the back of their pickup, as well.
Next, my Canadian friend in the nearby village was called. She and her husband came over and made some phone calls, somehow getting a rogue ambulance to come out and get me.
All in all, I was on the floor for 3 & 1/2 hours in pain. One of the policeman sat on the floor by my side, holding my hand the entire time, trying to keep me calm. I later learned it was his FIRST day as a policeman and that his name was Ángel (of course it was)!
The ambulance came with just a driver, no attendants. My friend rode with me holding my arm stable, as best she could as we sped over bumpy roads for a 35 minute ride to the hospital ER. My husband followed us; I can't imagine what he was feeling.
I ended up having surgery the following morning and received excellent care during my 3 day stay at the hospital. It was a learning curve, as hospital stays in Uruguay are a bit different. First of all, you need to bring your own soap, washcloth, towel, Kleenex, and nightclothes.
Second, the cultural belief (It makes sense!) in Uruguay seems to be that if given the opportunity, you would rather a family member or friend take care of you. It's customary for a family member or friend to stay overnight with you and during the day to take care of your needs, if possible.
Here’s my story with that. A close friend was visiting me at the hospital after my surgery. Nature called and I was not allowed to get out of bed yet, so I rang for the nurse to assist me with a bedpan. One arm was immobilized and the other hand was hooked to an IV. When the time came to dry off, the nurse handed the toilet paper to my friend. Both of our eyes grew as big as saucers, but my friend just carried on and wiped. Now that’s a friend! Yes, it does make sense you would rather a friend than a stranger take care of your needs; it’s just a different take on things! The moral of this story, if you visit a friend in hospital, be prepared to be a very “close” friend! Thank you, my CLOSE friend!
Also, no mere words can express my thanks to my Canadian friend, who stayed by my side for hours, arranged for an ambulance (and rode with me), and translated even while I screamed as they tried to put my shoulder back in place.
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“When gardeners garden, it is not just plants that grow, but the gardeners themselves.” -
Ken Druse
Ken Druse
We finally had a garden! I loved my garden in Texas so much. I worked for years getting it into shape, making it beautiful and lush, and loving every minute of doing so.
One year our neighbors cut down all their cedar trees and fed them into a chipper machine. They had a HUGE pile of cedar chips and said I could have as much as I wanted. I drove our old Chevy truck up to that pile, loaded the truck bed, and shoveled those chips onto plastic sheeting, making walkways all through the garden. I'm not talking one truck load; I'm talking about 30! I did most of it myself, I'm proud to say. It was worth it for my garden.
I also built an "Aggie" compost bin, named after the bins that Texas A&M University developed from cement blocks. Of course, I painted grape bunches and flowers on mine!
I cried big, old fat tears when I had to leave that Texas garden and I've been missing gardening ever since. But now we've made one here. It's out by the barn, so a bit of a hike to get there, but it has a great view and good soil. What more can you ask?
One year our neighbors cut down all their cedar trees and fed them into a chipper machine. They had a HUGE pile of cedar chips and said I could have as much as I wanted. I drove our old Chevy truck up to that pile, loaded the truck bed, and shoveled those chips onto plastic sheeting, making walkways all through the garden. I'm not talking one truck load; I'm talking about 30! I did most of it myself, I'm proud to say. It was worth it for my garden.
I also built an "Aggie" compost bin, named after the bins that Texas A&M University developed from cement blocks. Of course, I painted grape bunches and flowers on mine!
I cried big, old fat tears when I had to leave that Texas garden and I've been missing gardening ever since. But now we've made one here. It's out by the barn, so a bit of a hike to get there, but it has a great view and good soil. What more can you ask?
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Before we moved to Uruguay, we sold our beloved Kawaii grand piano. Although we both played it for many years, my husband was truly in love with it. I have so many fond memories of listening to him play.
One summer in Texas, I was repainting several rooms in the house and his music was my accompaniment. Many nights, I sat by the fireplace, listening to him play. When I was tired, he played after I went to bed and it put me to sleep. When I was angry, his music soothed my soul. It really hurt to sell it, but we didn't think it would do well moving on a ship.
So it's been two years since we've owned a piano. It was high time to change that. We found a 100-year-old Steinway that was rebuilt and refinished by a wonderful father and son team in Montevideo. They found the piano sitting neglected in a synagogue for a very long time after the church had purchased a newer one.
It was meant to be ours! Our house will once again be filled with music. Words can't express how happy that makes both of us.
One summer in Texas, I was repainting several rooms in the house and his music was my accompaniment. Many nights, I sat by the fireplace, listening to him play. When I was tired, he played after I went to bed and it put me to sleep. When I was angry, his music soothed my soul. It really hurt to sell it, but we didn't think it would do well moving on a ship.
So it's been two years since we've owned a piano. It was high time to change that. We found a 100-year-old Steinway that was rebuilt and refinished by a wonderful father and son team in Montevideo. They found the piano sitting neglected in a synagogue for a very long time after the church had purchased a newer one.
It was meant to be ours! Our house will once again be filled with music. Words can't express how happy that makes both of us.