Our garden has been struggling lately in the heat. My Morning Glories refused to bloom, so I decided to create a virtual garden by sketching blossoms from my photos, first in pencil, then with ink and colored pencil added. I discovered that an imaginary garden can be almost as satisfying as the real thing.
Last week I visited Father Valentine. Upon leaving, he gave me a dozen multicolored eggs from his multicolored chickens — green, blue, white, brown, and speckled — a garden of eggs. Yum!
This morning after the Corpus Christi Mass, celebrating the Real Presence of Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, my garden looked particularly lovely. Pictured above on the left: Petunia and Calibrachoa. On the right: Sweet Potato Vine, Rose, and Lobelia.
Back up in the mountains, the local movie theatre has reopened after the long pandemic closure, but I’m still not ready to sit in a crowded theatre. The best show in town is my neighbor’s Calla Lily along with its howling coyote companion. Apparently, I am easily entertained.
I spent the week in the mountains. It was very dry, so I didn’t see many wildflowers. Before I left for the mountains, my new rose bush (bred specifically for growing in a pot) was covered with buds. When I returned, I found it in full bloom. Roses always make me think of Our Lady.
What is it about roses that makes them so special?
Sometimes the most interesting floral combinations seem to occur by happenstance. When I came home from the mountains this week, one of my cacti was in full bloom. I was lucky to see it, since the blossoms only last for one day. In the background — Calibrachoa, Petunias with Lobelia, and Dianthus.
In the shady side of the garden, my Pincushion Flower volunteer from last year was also blooming, along with the Lobelia that I added to the pot a few weeks ago to fill up space. They seem to be getting along together nicely.
Today, I made my first attempt at decorating blank notes cards with dried flowers from the garden. Gentle Reader, it was not as easy as I expected, and I’m not entirely satisfied with the result, but hey, it’s a start. The thin leaves and blossoms were easy to glue (except for the ones that broke), but the hard stems were tricky. I had to re-glue the one on the bottom left after I took the photo.
I was able to experiment sooner than I expected because my second flower press has a unique drying system with sponges that takes only two days. The material I pressed two weeks ago in the traditional way is still drying.
I look forward to trying more intricate and colorful designs in the future, but I don’t plan on selling my creations. I’m just having fun.
Finally — a morning without wind. I bring my coffee and spiritual reading into the garden, but my book remains unopened. In the trees, the birds can’t stop singing. A bee hovers over a barely visible holly blossom. The air caresses my skin as only it can do in spring. There is new life everywhere.
How can I read about God when He is at work all around me?
The garden is starting to wake up for spring. As I took this picture, it occurred to me that my chair is the most important feature in the garden. There is no point in having a garden if I don’t take time to sit in it.
As I enjoyed the intoxicating warm breeze, the birds provided a symphony of trills and chirps. I read some poetry from Dancing by the Light of the Moon by Gyles Brandreth. (Thank you thetinypotager for the recommendation several months ago.)
Fifteen minutes in the garden was all it took to completely reorient my day.
Distressing times in our nation and in the world. Now, in the dead of winter, the temperature drops below freezing every night. Yet, the violets are thinking about spring. The original plants, given to me by a friend, have long since died. They didn’t like the location where I planted them. However, they lived long enough to seed the surrounding area, and ever since, their offspring have delighted me year after year. Before the end of the month, they will be covered in blossoms.
I still believe in faith.
I still believe in hope.
I still believe in love.