Being home today brought a sense of belonging. I am rarely home, and it was wonderful to be here. “Home is where the heart is” as the saying goes. I took a stroll around the yard checking the greenhouse plants that now make home here. They like it here! They nestle between trees and shrubs and in our lime green screen house. The beautiful Japanese maple and dogwood trees in the photo below provide shelter so filtered sunlight peeks between the lush leaves, perfect for the red leaf philodenrons and ferns.
After my morning stroll I ate my tuna sandwich and sipped on iced gingerale with the windows open, fresh air gently blowing in, and sunshine beaming through the tree branches. This lovely May day brought another mild evening with a cooling breeze. Ah, it is quiet at home as I am here by myself. Only the sounds of birds tweeting while I prepare dinner. Dean is visiting with family at his son’s out-of-town graduation. Simple. No conversation, no TV, no need for music as I sing my own tunes today. Life is good.
Category Archives: critter
Restlessness
I have been everywhere and back this past 10 days. Yes, it has been that long since I posted on my blog. Besides my full-time job and everywhere it sends me any given day, I have spent time with family, and of course at the greenhouse. The greenhouse is not so crowded these days. Yeh! We have been selling many botanicals, perennials, and herbs, mostly at the Saturday farmers’ market. Our wild-looking tomato plants have not been a hot selling item. Not because of their looks we do not suppose, but because the township where we sell does not allow its residents to plant vegetable gardens! Yes, you read that correctly. I could not believe what I heard residents saying. So our healthy, long-stemmed tomato plants have made new homes in organic farm fields as well as in family and friends’ yards where they are wanted. Our farmers’ market clients have swooped up bedding plants and hanging planters. Our greens are loved by others besides ourselves! With my restless personality, we have started moving some other plants out of the greenhouse to our yard in preparation of our move Memorial Day weekend. Our “momma” plants, a huge arrowhead, rabbit’s fern, and red-leaf philodendron are sheltered under the Japanese maple near our front porch. The beautiful geraniums made their way to the wagon in our front yard. And the Kingston ferns are loving the filtered sunlight under the big sugar maple. My husband put up the screen house in the backyard ready to put the little plants on tables inside after this busy Mother’s Day weekend. It the midst of all this activity, one evening I found an immature robin bird sleeping in the “momma” red-leaf. It was awaken by my watering. He scurried away from me in short flight, but hung around the front yard. I think this robin bird became as restless as I feel. He was not around the next morning. So happy our plants made a home for him while he was learning to fly. Just hope the neighbor tom cat did not come around.
Why Did My Plant Die?
Dean & I have been to our eyeballs with green, green, green. Every now & then, one of our greenhouse plants is brown! This can be from a number of causes … pests, too much water, not enough water, root damage from a transplant. We are learning more about greenhouse pests, slugs and aphids, and natural methods to eliminate them. We use beer for the slugs. They must want a drink served in recycled jar lids, and find themselves swimming in the fermented drink which they eventually dissolve in. Yuck! And then aphids dislike dish soap, pepper spray, and lady bugs. The last resort will be buying some lady bugs. Gobble them up, ladies! 
I found this gardener/author, and thought to share his humorous poem about “why did my plant die?” Enjoy!
A poem by Geoffrey B. Charlesworth …
Why Did My Plant Die?
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You hoed it down. You weeded it.
You planted it the wrong way up.
You grew it in a yoghurt cup
But forgot to make a hole;
The soggy compost took its toll.
September storm. November drought.
It heaved in March, the roots popped out.
You watered it with herbicide.
You scattered bonemeal far and wide,
Attracting local omnivores,
Who ate your plant and stayed for more.
You left it baking in the sun
While you departed in a run.
To find a spade, perhaps a trowel,
Meanwhile the plant threw in the towel.
You planted it with crown too high;
The soil washed off, that explains why.
Too high pH. It hated lime.
Alas it needs a gentler clime.
You left the root ball wrapped in plastic.
You broke the roots. They’re not elastic.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
You splashed the plant with mower oil.
You should do something to your soil.
Too rich, too poor. Such wretched tilth.
Your soil is clay. Your soil is filth.
Your plant was eaten by a slug.
The growing point contained a bug.
These aphids are controlled by ants,
Who milk the juice, it kills the plants.
In early spring your garden’s mud.
You walked around! That’s not much good.
With heat and light you hurried it.
The poor plant missed the mountain air;
No heat, no summer muggs up there.
You overfed it 10-10-10.
Forgot to water it again.
You hit it sharply with a hose.
You used a can without a rose.
Perhaps you sprinkled from above.
You should have talked to it with love.
The nursery mailed it without roots.
You killed it with those gardening boots.
You walked too close. You trod on it.
You dropped a piece of sod on it.
March Into Spring
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.”
– Charles Dickens
March has such turbulent weather conditions, storms, tornados, and floods. Yet there is a knowing of what is to come after the ruckus. Baby birds chirping, wild violets showing purple, green grass glowing after the rains, and a rainbow’s promise of that pot of gold. For me the pot of gold is garden growth, showy dogwood blooms, the birth of a new thought, the memories of my child laughing in a swing, capturing a walk in the middle of my day … “No winter lasts forever; no spring skips its turn.” – Hal Borland . March into spring …
Perches In The Soul
Slow Is Simple
A child’s life moves in slow motion though they run and play with full speed. My granddaughter Ella wants to experience life to the fullest, yet slows down to view upclose a green frog hopping in the garden. Life is simple as a child. Slow is simple. Simply said …
Green frog in the garden, a child’s bauble, maybe prince charming, a fairy tale in the making …


