Category Archives: Gardening and flowers

Gardening and working in the yard, a love of nature and flowers.

Easter reflections

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What a strange thing!
to be alive
beneath cherry blossoms.
– Kobayashi Issa, Japanese poet and lay Buddhist priest

Last year was the first Easter we celebrated without my mother. In the past, when my son was a toddler, we drove down to San Diego to spend the weekend with David’s sister’s family and his parents. After my daughter was born, we took them to Folsom to spend the holiday with my sister’s family and my mother. We still went to Folsom last year, even though my nephew, who was a freshman in high school at the time, finally won out and no longer had to participate in Easter egg hunts and the interest within my kids was also waning.

Calla lilies in our garden.

Calla lilies in our garden.

After my mother’s passing, I told David that we needed to spend more time with his parents, who are in their early seventies. I am acutely aware that I didn’t spend enough time with my mother in the last few years, and I don’t want to repeat the same mistake. When the kids were babies and toddlers, I made many a weekend trip to Folsom, but all that changed when my son got involved in sports in the second grade – baseball and basketball. He has since given up basketball, but his baseball schedule used to be every weekend from February through mid-August. My daughter joined a soccer team last fall, and now our Saturdays in the falls and springs are spoken for.

This past Christmas, David and his siblings got his parents a surround sound entertainment system, which David and one of his brothers set up. David needed to finish up the job, so he had to come back after the holidays. By the time a weekend could be found, I was out of town on a business trip. But my daughter ran a temperature on the appointed weekend, and then had another virus the following weekend, which was when the rescheduled trip had been planned. We were all set to go two weekends ago, and then his father called to tell us a good friend of theirs had caught a secondary infection while in the hospital after contracting sepsis, following a procedure to eradicate a spot on his liver. He was not expected to make it through the weekend, and David’s parents thought it best if we didn’t come.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Pink tulips in our side garden.

Their friend passed away that Saturday evening, and his funeral was set for the following Saturday. David’s dad was scheduled to eulogize his long-time friend. Our weekend was booked for my son’s first baseball tournament of the season. On the drive home from the games that Saturday afternoon, David’s brother called. David listened to the voicemail message when we got home: His parents had been hit by a car crossing the street at a four-way stop. The driver had stopped, but then proceeded to turn. He later told the police officer that the sun was in his eyes and he didn’t see them. My mother-in-law was knocked to the ground and thankfully only suffered bruises, but my father-in-law’s head cracked the car windshield. He had broken two vertebrae in his neck and his forehead was stitched up. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer a concussion.

We came that Sunday sans the kids, and we were going to come the following weekend, when he would be home from the hospital. We ended up coming Easter weekend, which seemed a better time to spend with them. Two of David’s brothers also came. It was a 24-hour visit, as we left after my son’s baseball practice and my daughter’s soccer game. It was a short visit, but we had a nice dinner and breakfast. The kids played a Mexican domino board game with their “noni,” their uncle’s girlfriend, and their dad. They weeded the backyard for their “noni,” which she paid them for their services. We watched a little bit of March madness, some Sharks hockey, and the original Pink Panther movie in surround sound.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

On cool spring days, layer a heavier sweater over a thinner floral sweater.

At night, we watched an amazing lightning and thunderstorm play out from David’s parents’ bedroom window. It was quite a display of theatrics, which none of us has ever seen before, including David, who has seen his share of Tennessee thunderstorms. It made us realize how small we humans are against the force of Nature. It made us appreciate the power of Nature. Then we went to bed, and time flew by. Time flew by – It’s a cliché I find myself referencing with greater frequency. There is an equal sense of urgency that accompanies the acknowledgment, the inevitable.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

When the sun comes out, you can peel off the outer sweater.

It was a quiet Easter, but an important one. I’m glad the kids could share the holiday with their noni and papa and two of their uncles. Like spring, Easter is a time for renewal and rejuvenation, for being amazed by and grateful for life, which is the ideal response to the events of the past few weeks.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Pink and floral for spring, sweater and thin-wale corduroy for cooler weather.

Spring fever

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It is spring again. The earth is like a child that knows poems by heart.
– Rainer Maria Rilke, Bohemian-Austrian poet and novelist

This season's crop of tulips in our side yard.

This season’s crop of tulips in our side yard.

Today is the first day of spring. After weeks of beautiful weather, which confused the magnolia trees in our backyard, the temperature dropped to the low 60s and a light rain is descending. Back in Maine, my colleagues at our headquarters are hunkered in their homes, enduring a snow storm that is hugging the northern New England coast but should be tapering off today.

Regardless of the actual weather, spring is upon us. This past weekend, my son played in his first baseball tournament, which was held in Silicon Valley. His team, whom David manages, drew an eight in the morning Saturday game. It was cold, even as the team’s second game commenced after ten in the morning. I wore a scarf, sweater, and a leather jacket and my bottom half was wrapped in a baseball-motif blanket that my daughter had made for her brother for Christmas. I was still freezing. And then slowly the sun came out. By the time the game ended after noon, it seemed more like baseball weather and some of us discovered our faces had gotten a little sun burnt.

Morning dew on tulip.

Morning dew on tulip.

When we came home, I needed to give our dog Rex, who had been inside the house for hours, his daily walk. As we walked past tree after tree full of white and deep pink blossoms, and as I breathed in the pollen, which shortened my breath and made me wheeze, I thought to myself, spring has indeed arrived.

Floral blouse and silk and linen appliqued skirt from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA) for spring.

Floral blouse and silk and linen appliqued skirt from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA) for spring.

Memories of spring
When I think of spring, many images come to mind. Upon learning in the spring that I had gotten accepted to UC Davis back in the spring of 1982, I rode my ten-speed bike on the country roads outside my hometown to get used to the campus’ mode of transportation. The hills bore row upon row of orange trees, thick with white starry flowers, giving off their heady perfume of orange blossoms in the early morning. No matter that I had an allergic reaction to them – I never tired of breathing deeply, as if I could not get enough of the sweet scent, as if I would never return home again. And then at Davis, after taking a heavy course load winter quarter, I opted for a light load in the spring because I was always stricken with a bad case of spring fever. I didn’t want to be in lecture halls. I wanted to be out in the sun.

Spring accessories: Lava 9 wooden drop earrings and chunky ring (Berkeley, CA), and Urbanity pearl necklace in mesh (Berkeley, CA).

Spring accessories: Lava 9 wooden drop earrings and chunky ring (Berkeley, CA), and Urbanity pearl necklace in mesh (Berkeley, CA).

My second and final year at Syracuse, I remember stepping out of the graduate dorm into a spring snow storm in 1990. I managed to slide my yellow Toyota Corolla station wagon down a hill off campus and up against a curb parking spot, completely by accident. By the end of the day, the snow was gone, making me question its very existence that morning. It became a spring day, albeit a Syracuse spring day. I remember this time in Syracuse now because I came across two poems by two poets that one of my professors taught together in a seminar. The two poets were as far apart personally and aesthetically as can be, which made them the perfect pairing for a seminar. The English poet and novelist, Philip Larkin, was known for his dark, melancholy work, while the more famous Chilean poet, politician, and Nobel Prize winner, Pablo Neruda, ardently celebrated life through his works.

In celebration of spring, I present two poems:

The Trees
by Philip Larkin (1922-1985)
The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too,
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

Enmeshed pearls from Urbanity (Berkeley, CA), linen appliques on maize-colored silk skirt from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA), and colorful butterflies and flowers on a flowing blouse.

Enmeshed pearls from Urbanity (Berkeley, CA), linen appliques on maize-colored silk skirt from Personal Pizazz (Berkeley, CA), and colorful butterflies and flowers on a flowing blouse.

Love Sonnet 39
by Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)
But I forgot that your hands fed the roots,
Watering the tangled roses,
Till your fingerprints bloomed
Full, in a natural peace.
Like pets, your hoe and your sprinkling can
Follow you around, biting and licking the earth.
That work is how you let this richness loose,
The carnation’s fiery freshness
I wish the love and dignity of bees for your hands,
Mixing and spreading their transparent brood
In the earth: they cultivate even my heart,
So that I am like a scorched rock
That suddenly sings when you are near, because it drinks
The water you carry from the forest, in your voice.

Brilliant white calla lilies glow in the late spring evenings.

Brilliant white calla lilies glow in the late spring evenings.

February’s false spring

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Despite the forecast, live like it’s spring.
– Lilly Pulitzer, American fashion designer

The first tulip of the season pops up during our February false spring.

The first tulip of the season pops up during our February false spring.

Although the temperatures are going to drop this week and rain is expected on Tuesday, the past six days have been lovely. In February, we typically get a spell of warm weather in the upper 60s and sometimes even low 70s (in degrees), making you chafe in your tightly woven turtleneck sweater and want to change into cotton t-shirts. Our false spring coaxes our two massive magnolia trees in our backyard to blossom and drop their pink and white petals, which will become a gummy, rust-colored mess when the late winter rains drive our false spring away.Despite the beginning of my son’s baseball season and indeed a weekend of baseball practices, clinic, and meetings, we as a family spent a few hours Sunday afternoon pulling weeds mostly in our side yard. It reminded me how I used to have time to tend to my garden, pulling weeds on a regular basis, ridding plants of snails, pruning judiciously, and clipping spent flowers. When I moved into David’s house nearly 17 years ago, I became smitten with gardening. The previous owner, who was the first owner of the house, was an avid gardener who had planted bluebells for the spring and Mexican poppies and dahlias for the summer and early fall.

I took a lot of photos of my father in his garden while taking photography classes at my local junior college back home in 1982. His gardening uniform consisted of a white t-shirt, canvas trousers, and his trusty straw hat.

I took a lot of photos of my father in his garden while taking photography classes at my local junior college back home in 1982. His gardening uniform consisted of a white t-shirt, canvas trousers, and his trusty straw hat.

We sought to make the garden our own. We ripped out the poppies, dug up the bluebell bulbs, tore down his black widow-infested homemade sheds, and in the front yard pulled up the boxwood hedges, diseased pine tree, and juniper bushes. I grew to love dahlias and planted different varieties to the tune of 22 types, mostly in the side yard. I experienced a Zen sense of calmness and accomplishment after spending weekend hours in the yard. At the end of the day, I would stretch out and survey the neatly tended garden with great satisfaction. I imagined it was not unlike the admiration my father experienced when he surveyed his vegetable garden on summer evenings.

This plot of the garden will soon look like . . .

This plot of the garden will soon look like . . .

When we moved during the major house remodel, we put all the dahlia bulbs in planters and tubs and transported them to our rental. Once the house was completed, David and our good friend Ricci laid down a flagstone path and erected an iron fence and gate in the side yard. The tall column fountain, which David and I gave to each other as a first Christmas present after we got married, was installed, and we commenced planting the bulbs in the amended soil.I added pottery and potted plants, and other kinds of flowers. Three different bird baths and two bird feeders joined a winged angel and fairy statues and wire and clay suns with whimsical faces hung on the fence. One winter we planted a variety of short and tall-stemmed tulips, and calla lilies have sprung up in unexpected places. While the calla lilies are thriving, the tulip leaves are shouldering up from the soil during our false spring.

. . . this when the real spring arrives.

. . . this when the real spring arrives.

One of the things I especially enjoy at the height of spring and summer is clipping flowers and greenery and making massive arrangements and doing so without caring about how much time it’s taking. Even more so, I enjoy giving out the arrangements I make. The last few seasons the late spring rains have shortened the season and made the flowers not as prolific as they used to be, so I can’t make the two or three arrangements a week that I was accustomed to doing.

Contemplating spring with a sleeveless maxi. Throw on a light jacket with bracelet sleeves and wrap around your neck flowery and ethereal scarves, and spring should come in no time.

Contemplating spring with a sleeveless maxi. Throw on a light jacket with bracelet sleeves and wrap around your neck flowery and ethereal scarves, and spring should come in no time.

A few years ago, we donated a season’s worth of weekly bouquets, which averaged about 14 weeks from late May through early September, as a bidding item for our kids’ elementary school annual auction event. I would make the arrangement, sometimes two, deliver it to the winning bidder’s porch, and pick up the previous week’s vase. It is an easy, no-cost donation that earns money for the elementary school – and now our middle school. So as gardeners’ flowers start to bloom and school auctions are being planned and set with spring dates, consider donating a weekly bouquet. Help your community – even if you don’t have children in the local schools. As our February false spring comes to a close, survey your garden. Make sure it’s being nurtured and ready for optimal blooming. And then share the beauty of your garden.

Skip the jewelry with an outfit like this when you wear multiple sheer scarves adorned with watercolor flowers and beading and sequins. Dress like it's spring!

Skip the jewelry with an outfit like this when you wear multiple sheer scarves adorned with watercolor flowers and beading and sequins. Dress like it’s spring!