Sunshine Days

"Dirty hands, iced tea, garden fragrances thick in the air and a blanket of color before me, who could ask for more ?"

~Bev Adams, Mountain Gardening

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Back To Normal

The Jubilee Celebrations have consumed me this week.

Last night I watched the concert held at Buckingham Palace, all those legendary performers, bringing back so many memories.

Prince Charles made me chuckle addressing his mother as 'Her Majesty', and then quickly adding 'mummy' as an afterthought, so innocently.

I was moved to tears when the entire audience broke out in song God Save The Queen, and joined in at the top of my voice.

I may be separated by an ocean, but will be forever bonded in spirit.

And so now it's time to tend to much neglected chores, the terra cotta boot got a shiny new paint job this week.

Flowers were planted

Oliver snoozed

                           

Back to normal.   

Treading Water

We enjoyed a glorious Spring day here in the Tennessee Valley for Mother's Day.
Mother Nature graced up with her very best, and it was such a delight to spend the day pottering around the garden.

We planted and cleaned up around the pond, taking care not to disturb Igor, who has become quite accustomed to our presence, and no longer plops in the pond, when he sees us coming.

Flowers are blooming, bees are buzzing, the 13 year Cicadas are serenading.

Cold, wet leaves
Floating on moss-colored water
And the croaking of frogs -
Cracked bell-notes in the twilight
~ The Pond, Amy Lowell

A new Japanese water Iris in bloom " Holden's Child"

I hope your day was just as special.

You'll Find Me In The Garden

Life has seemingly taken over at present, there is much that needs doing. I plan to be spending
time in the potting shed......

Contemplating and intending.

Digging and potting.

"And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden...You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.".

~ Rudyard Kipling

There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.

~ Alfred Austin

Planning a new herb garden, and taking the time to soak up a little peace and serenity.

The Glory Of The Garden

The Glory of the Garden

Our England is a garden that is full of stately views,

Of borders, beds and shrubberies and lawns and avenues,

With statues on the terraces and peacocks strutting by;

But the Glory of the Garden lies in more than meets the eye.
For where the old thick laurels grow, along the thin red wall,

You will find the tool- and potting-sheds which are the heart of all;

The cold-frames and the hot-houses, the dungpits and the tanks:

The rollers, carts and drain-pipes, with the barrows and the planks.

And there you'll see the gardeners, the men and 'prentice boys

Told off to do as they are bid and do it without noise;

For, except when seeds are planted and we shout to scare the birds,

The Glory of the Garden it abideth not in words.

And some can pot begonias and some can bud a rose,

And some are hardly fit to trust with anything that grows;

But they can roll and trim the lawns and sift the sand and loam,

For the Glory of the Garden occupieth all who come.

Our England is a garden, and such gardens are not made

By singing:--"Oh, how beautiful!" and sitting in the shade,

While better men than we go out and start their working lives

At grubbing weeds from gravel-paths with broken dinner-knives.
There's not a pair of legs so thin, there's not a head so thick,

There's not a hand so weak and white, nor yet a heart so sick.

But it can find some needful job that's crying to be done,

For the Glory of the Garden glorifieth every one.

Then seek your job with thankfulness and work till further orders,

If it's only netting strawberries or killing slugs on borders;

And when your back stops aching and your hands begin to harden,

You will find yourself a partner in the Glory of the Garden.

Oh, Adam was a gardener, and God who made him sees

That half a proper gardener's work is done upon his knees,

So when your work is finished, you can wash your hands and pray

For the Glory of the Garden, that it may not pass away!

And the Glory of the Garden it shall never pass away!

~ Rudyard Kipling 1911