Saturday, August 7, 2010


We are stardust.
We are golden.
And we've got to get ourselves, back to the garden....
At long last I am able to put weight upon The Ankle.  I am not stepping out confidently for unlimited stretches of time, no, but I am able now to safely wander out and see, up close, first hand, what is going on outside my windows.
It is a bit of a mixed blessing.

There is beauty out there, no question.  There are also clear signs of a bill come due after weeks of involuntary neglect.
Bermuda grass seed heads abound, nodding gracefully in the breeze, happily broadcasting the promise of hours of weeding in the seasons to come.
Morning glory vines have crept up and over as far as they could reach.  They at least, are easily grabbed, wrapped about and wrenched out, although bringing along with them whatever they climbed up if care is not taken.  But that is hardly the point.
There will be stronger days yet to come, cooler days as well, when the work of reordering can be rejoined.  The real work possible now is to prevent the joy of being an active observer again from being extinguished in any way by the heavy blanket of a to-do list.
It is enough, for now, to simply enjoy what has thrived in these less tended to spaces. It is enough, for now, to watch birds and bees and ants and butterflies work the garden in their own way.  When all is said and done, these spaces, the ones I call "my garden" do belong to them.  They, the real gardeners here, enter and exit, harvest and work at will while I am in fact the visitor.  To call these spaces "mine" is a conceit of time and I will do well to hold that idea foremost as I begin to make choices for my re-entry into the activity.


  1. I'm glad you're almost back to normal. Your garden is doing just great; what a testament to you. My garden is in total chaos!

    What is the one with the berries?

  2. So glad to hear you're on the mend!

  3. Linda /Iris: Thank you both so much. It has been a long (long!) haul, but the light is finally appearing at the end of this particular tunnel, at least.

    Linda - that berried plant is Poke Salat - one of my very favorite volunteers. I currently have two mockingbirds fighting over the berries - eating them as quickly as they ripen.

    And I pinky swear the garden over all is NOT looking that great. Chaos reigns here most certainly but in a VERY tightly framed shot you simply can't tell. Thanks for dropping by, y'all!

  4. Look at the doughnut, don't look at the hole!
    Or maybe doughnuts not such a good idea? After a period of little exercise? Or have you been doing upper-body-workouts from your desk/reading chair :-)
    Raising the books up and down maybe?

    That honeysuckle, no I mean rose of sharon, a.k.a. something beginning with -h-, I'll get there---hypericum, no, hosta, no, well anyways, that purple thing with the white whatsit sticking out, is terrific. You'll want to start a macro page. Five minutes later: Hibiscus siriacus.
    And I envy you the ability to grow serious Salvia. In bright pillarbox red no less.

  5. Hee hee Jo. Yes, as long as I only LOOK at the doughnut I'll be just fine. The Althea bush (aka Rose of Sharon and Hisicus Siriacus) is a favorite of mine - I have them scattered everywhere (they self sow) in various colors. They were favorites of my father's and he was the source of the original bush here at our current home. And the salvias here do very well. A trade off for our summer heat no doubt. Thanks (as always) for your encouraging words!


About Me

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Rollingwood, Central Texas
Family historian by default. Oldest surviving matriarch on my branch of the Family Tree. Story teller, photo taker, gardener, cook, blabbermouth.