Tag Archives: flowers

If there’s any better smell….

 

I don’t know what it is.

 

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Freshly cut lilacs.

 

 

Okay, I totally want a pair of crab scissors now.

 

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These two huge lilac bushes live on the side of our house.

 

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(That’s my vase on the ground to the right of them for scale.)

When we moved here 17 years ago there wasn’t much in the way of landscaping , but thankfully there were lilacs.

 

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One white…

 

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One dark purple.

Naturally, my favorite was always the paler shade…. but beggars can’t be choosers.

My girlfriend gave me a pale one 3 years ago, but it’s got a long way to go to catch up to it’s siblings.

 

 

Come on little fella, you can do it.

 

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Of course, from the pace of growth…

I’ll probably be dead before it blooms.

 

 

Good thing the white one is prolific.

 

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Ah….

Lilacs!

Babies!

 

Remember the dandelion eating woodchuck I posted about a while back?

We’ve discovered she lives under our barn.

And yes, she’s a she because…

 

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She has babies!

Baby chuckers… can I get an awwwww?

 

 

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They’re just too cute.

Four in total …but I rarely see them together long enough to get a photograph.

Three is the most I’ve captured so far.

 

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Sweetness!

 

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Here’s one trying to hide under my iron garden bird.

 

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Well, not quite.

More like…

 

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This little one seems to like our back deck.

 

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You can hear him scurrying for cover under the grill… then catch him checking to see if the coast is clear.

 

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This looked like trouble…

 

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But after a few nibbles, he decided he didn’t like geraniums…which was good news for me.

 

 

 

I hate to tell you, but this probably won’t be the last of the baby chucker pics.

You’ve been warned.

 

When I die….

 

My epitaph shall read:

Here lies River

She was swallowed by a quince bush.

 

 

 

This is the bush from Hell that lives and multiplies like a rabbit on our property.

 

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Every fall we wack it down to a manageable level, and every spring it comes back with a vengeance.

 

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Yes, the blooms are lovely.

 

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And yes, the bumblebees enjoy it.

 

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Pardon the bee butt shots. Apparently they’re camera shy.

 

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But damn.

It’s only June and the pink spawn of Satan is already reaching the roof line.

 

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So if I should disappear this summer?

Grab a machete and come get me….

 

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It’s already got three window exits blocked.

 

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I fear the doors are next.

 

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Because I’m a very technical gardener.

 

My back is breaking, but the annual planting of annuals is done.

(See what I did there? Word play. I live for that shit.)

 

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A nice combination of pink and white for the stone wall bed.

 

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There’s this pretty daisy-ish one…

 

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And the pink tinged green leafy thingies.

 

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(See what I mean by technical?

Please try to keep up with the detailed scientific plant descriptions.

There may be a quiz.)

 

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I liked this purple violet thingamabob…

 

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So I planted 3 with a couple of petunias.

 

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A few coleus for the only little plot of shade we have.

 

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It will be a miracle if I can keep the slugs off them this year.

I plant, they eat. Slimy little bastards…

Note to self – buy more salt.

 

 

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Orange lilies…

 

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Spikey purple whatchamacallit, an impatient and two soft fuzzy green mounds.

 

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I don’t think the fuzzies bloom…

 

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But they’re silky, delicate and sweet, so I don’t care.

 

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Every year the husband says he’s going to tear down our rotting shed, and every year he doesn’t, so I plant yellow and orange stuff in front of it.

Like this whozit which has both.

 

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If you can recite all the Latin names for those plants?

Bravo.

I tend to read them on the tags at the nursery and then forget them as soon as I get home.

 

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That won’t work.

I don’t know enough rappers.

 

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That’s better.

I do love me some Cleese.

 

 

 

 

 

A modern fairy tale.

 

Once upon a time there was a Princess.

We shall call her….

River.

 

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(River has been called a lot of things in her day, but never a Princess.

So if you’re calling?

Make it loud.)

 

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Princess River loves her flowers. She plants them whenever and wherever she can.

And since the Princess lives in a kingdom that’s covered by snow and ice half of the year?

 

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She takes her plantings seriously.

 

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When she first moved into her castle, she toiled long and hard until she had the biggest and most beautiful garden bed in the land.

In early summer it sprouted stunning displays of Lupine….

 

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And myriads of other riotous, colorful blooms all season long.

 

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Princess River was content.

 

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This went on for many happy years until her husband, the evil Prince, started mowing in close proximity to the bed. He also mowed in the wrong direction.

Bad Prince.

Bad!

She asked him to be more careful.

She pleaded with him to go the other way.

But month after month the dastardly toad blew grass clippings in to her carefully tended flower garden.

 

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(You do.

And I shall…)

The Princess weeded, she turned the soil, she mulched….  but to no avail.

After a year or two, the grass took over.

 

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It choked all Princess River’s lovely flowers to death.

 

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Princess River was not happy.

She had to leave the castle and hump 12 bags of mulch across the moat.

 

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She had to wack down all her blooms, rake up the dead bodies, reset the brick border, lay weed block paper, re-mulch and reset the pavers that anchored the Royal Bath of Birds.

The sky darkened. The wind blew.

It started to rain.

And she ran out of mulch.

 

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(Mathematical coverage formulas were never her strong suit.)

Princess River had to abandon her project when a deluge of biblical proportion battered her royal self.

 

 

 

She will be victorious…. someday.

Until then she will slowly plot her revenge upon the evil Prince and his heinous grass cutting machines.

She will plan carefully.

The punishment must fit the crime.

 

 

 

 

Pink sky at night….

 

Sailor’s delight.

Pink sky in morning….

Sailors take warning.

 

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Our backyard sky Sunday morning.

 

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Uh oh.

 

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Our weather has been wacky lately.

Bright sun and 55 degrees one day….

Cold, snow and bitter wind the next.

 

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Oh well..

We’ll get there eventually.

 

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But not today….

 

 

Me, shoveling Tuesday morning…..

And not really enjoying April.

Come on spring!

 

 

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Nothing blooming here but snowflakes…

But that doesn’t mean I can’t import a little now and then.

 As for the upcoming holiday?

 

Yay for me.

 

The understanding wife.

I recently celebrated a birthday. (Okay, there was more silent cursing of my advancing years than actual celebrating, but you get the idea.)

The husband had some lovely flowers delivered…

 

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Which have opened quite nicely since then.

 

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As well as a really large card.

 

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The phrase “size doesn’t matter” clearly has no meaning for my other half, as evidenced by his gift.

 

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A monstrously large  (not to mention monstrously expensive)  Breville appliance.

I must have made the mistake of muttering under my breath about needing a new toaster oven recently… because boy, I’ve got one now.

 

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It’s like that old Ginsu knife they used to advertise ad nauseam in the 80’s. It slices, it dices, it cleans your fish.

 

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But… but…

While I appreciate the thought, all I really wanted was toast.

So I unpacked and played with my new toy in between doing hair and makeup and getting ready to go out to dinner as we always do on my  damn it, don’t remind me I’m older  birthday.

Except…. (here comes the understanding wife part) my kind, considerate husband called to say his friend at the office won Bruins tickets and he’d like to go with him down to Boston for the night.

 

 

Yes, he’s a brave soul.

Reasons?

#1…. I turned … never mind what I turned. Suffice it to say it’s generally not an easy age for women.

#2…. I just weaned myself off my estrogen patch a few weeks ago and, have been  experiencing uncontrollable psychotic rages  a little moody.

#3…. I had planned on a few celebratory cocktails. (Which no one should get in the way of and expect to live.)

Regardless, he plowed ahead with all the reasons he should attend while I listened quietly and agreed. The ever understanding wife.

That being said, let me leave you with a word of advice gentlemen….

 

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We women have long memories.