Tuesday, July 25, 2017

Only Child

There is a hydrangea bush in my backyard.  It’s large and grows in a spot that receives morning sun and afternoon shade.  It looks vibrant but in the twelve years I have lived here, it has never bloomed a flower.  Each Spring, I look for blooms but Summer has never delivered me flowers.  For the last few years, I’ve read up on hydrangea pruning and tried to prune it in late Winter with hopes of Spring blooms.  Just when I had given up hope of success, I have a hydrangea flower.  And not just any flower; a splendid purple flower.


It’s the only flower I’ve got but I’m thrilled to see it.  Gardens surprises are always so very lovely.  

Monday, July 24, 2017

Garden Report, Week Eight: Monday, July 24


This point in the summer often signals the start of a transition to comes, as things that have been furiously growing began to look weary from their efforts.  My basil plants have clearly been a snack bush for some creatures.


The tomatoes are still looking pretty good, though some heavy rain from the past weeks’ storms was a bit rough on some of the bushes.


The zinnia patch is in a hurry to bring me blooms and bouquets.


The sunlight that shines here has a special quality to me because it brings reward for my efforts and the prospect of a fresh-picked tomato on the supper table.




Sunday, July 23, 2017

Wrapping My Mind Around It

JT has been gone for the last two weeks, his annual vacation with his other mother, and I have been in a quiet house for some of the time.  Not all of it —— T and I made one of our annual adventures, and I made plans for some evenings. I worked most of the days,  but I’ve had some evenings to myself.

That’s time to relax and not be a responsible parent (and when you are the mother of a teenage driver, you sure as hell need time off from that).  My house is clean, my laundry is caught up, the TV is mine to watch (and without interruption).  It’s weird and nice in equal measure and a reminder of the lifestyle that is coming my way soon.

It’s strange and sometimes difficult to head into this coming September with the thought that this is my last school year as a full-time mama of a living-at-home child.  On the one hand, it feels like a foreign landscape.  For the first time in nearly 18 years, the prospect of the next season doesn’t just mean snowfalls or tulips peaking through the ground.  The next season also feels like one filled with endings…..the last time I will make JT’s picture on the first days of school, the last snow days JT and I will enjoy together, my final seasons as a parent cheering on her son in an RPS jersey…so many lasts that they stack up in a way that is sometimes hard to contemplate.  I expect that among the uncertainties to come, there will also be blessings to enjoy.  But uncertainty remains part of the picture for now and I’m the sort of person who likes a spoiler, so uncertainty is unsettling.

Of course, it’s easy to miss your 17 year old when he’s been away for two weeks.  When he returns with bushels of attitude, piles of laundry, and multiple expensive requests, it might be a whole lot easier to embrace a future when our paths will diverge.   I am genuinely excited for this next chapter in JT’s world.  It’s thrilling to see a boy who was once every inch a Peter Pan as he walks toward greater independence and autonomy, prepared to actually grow up.  And I’m excited for me and T, as we embark on the next steps in our life together.  For now, however, daily life will once again feature a boy.  And though it won't always be so sweet, I’m looking forward to his loud and messy return.

Flowers & Daydreams

Last weekend’s tour of Harriet Tubman’s Maryland world started with some flowers and gardens in Delaware.  I can never resist making pictures of the flowers I see.  I store these pictures in files for my garden imagination, planning flowers that I will some day plant in my garden.


At Brandywine State Park, there were coneflowers.


At Winterthur, there were all sorts of hydrangeas.




The hostas were in full bloom, looking so very lovely with their stretching purple flowers in the shade of the woods.


The wisteria trained to grow around this shade trellis made me smile.  This sort of project is years in the making.


Gardening encourages and then rewards patience, a lesson that always resonates with me.

Friday, July 21, 2017

At the Eastern Shore

When I was in the fifth grade I read my way through the history biography section of the Weldon Elementary School library.  I read the biographies of important Americans  in alphabetical order and especially looked forward to the stories of women.  There weren’t very many and I savored them.  Harriet Tubman’s biography was short, a fact I noted with dismay before I even got to the letter T and read her story.  What the story lacked in length it made up for in the power and courage of the tale.  From that read forward, I was fascinated with Harriet Tubman.  Adulthood hasn’t dimmed my interest.  Last weekend, T and I made the journey to the brand new Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Park.


For the last week, my head has been spinning with thoughts about Harriet Tubman, her life, and her world.  If anything, Tubman’s story is more powerful to me today than it was when I was 10 and for the last seven days I’ve been writing and writing as I try to make sense of what I want to say about her.  This morning I realized that it’s going to take a few posts to get my thoughts in order.  The reason is quite simple: Harriet Tubman is an historical badass.

Born enslaved in 1822 and called Araminta as a baby, Tubman grew up in an unequal world on Maryland’s Eastern shore.  As one of nine children who would eventually be born to John and Harriet Ross, she was working by the time she was walking.  Enslavement on Maryland’s Eastern shore wasn’t the plantation system, but it was cruel in a different way.   Maryland slaveowners had farms  but many slaveowners treated the people they owned as investments and they hired out their slaves to be wage workers for other people and places.  Families were regularly separated by distances of 5 to 10 miles, sometimes more.

The Choptank River flows through the area into the Chesapeake Bay at Cambridge, Maryland and was a major influence on industry in the region.  With tributaries in the dozens, people in the region were familiar with water.  The waterways were part of life on the Eastern shore, moving people about. In addition, unlike the plantation South, there were plenty of free black men in the area.  Many worked on the ships that came from North; others were freemen who lived in the region, working the docks and other water-based jobs.  At the time of Tubman’s birth, these free and enslaved populations regularly mixed and even intermarried.

This landscape is central to the story of Harriet Tubman and that’s been my epiphany in the last week. I am also a person for whom place has always been important and as I think about Harriet Tubman’s life and accomplishments, I think of them in the context of place and people.  I plan to use Tubman’s story throughout the year in my 7th grade History class and as I plan those lessons, I will post my thoughts on this blog.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Pretty Package

My package wrapping supplies got reorganized and tidied in the aftermath of the refinished floor project.  That meant that I could easily find a purple ribbon when the boy made a request for me to wrap a package he intends to give to a certain young lady.  


That’s happy!

Monday, July 17, 2017

Garden Report, Week Seven: Monday, July 17


A warm and sunny week has ensured many more tomato blooms to join the tomatoes already set on the vines.




My friend C brought me a sunflower and I planted it among the zinnia seeds I set out last week. Those seeds have spring seedlings and later this week I'll get to mulching the last patch of the garden.  I'm hoping that the sunflower will be a role model and that it will soon be surrounded by an abundance of zinnias who are eager to be just as tall as the sunflower.



These pictures were made on the sort of hazy, hot day that gardens love.  I’ve reached the season where the garden has something new to show me nearly every day and I do so love this point in the growing season.

Sunday, July 16, 2017

Enchanted Garden

T and I planned a summer adventure to visit the Harriet Tubman Underground Railroad National Historical Park on the eastern shore of Maryland (more on that next week).  On the way south, we stopped at the Winterthur Estate in Delaware.  There, we took time to enjoy the lovely perennial garden that covers sixty acres of the 1,000 acre estate.  Winterthur was once the estate of the du Pont family and you can rest assured that they were never short of cash.  The estate has the house and a collection of the American furniture and textiles that Mr. du Pont enjoyed collecting.  They are housed in his 175-room, nine story mansion.  


Such opulence on our way to see the world to which Harriet Tubman was born seemed a little silly, so T and I opted to mostly enjoy the acres and acres of splendid and lovely gardens.


There is a fairy garden added to the estate to appeal to children and, I suppose, children at heart.  It was a quiet destination for our Saturday morning, made more lovely by the few children who were there, laughing and enjoying the fairy paths.


Lovingly designed for children with rich imaginations, the garden path meanders from a small gate to bridges, windows in which to peak, a mini circle of rocks, a thatched cottage, a place for a fairy tea party, and small tables and benches tucked into the shaded glens.




We had a pretty good time ourselves.


I am reminded how much I like visiting gardens, something I plan to make more time for in the coming years.  







That’s happy!



Saturday, July 15, 2017

Zoo Crew

My friend M is a fellow gardener who enjoys all the things she can grow in her backyard.  She doesn’t enjoy the wildlife in our corner of New Jersey and has been known to be surprised by bobcats, groundhogs, squirrels, and bunnies.  M neither enjoys nor welcomes these creatures and at one point this spring announced that she intended to build an electric fence around her garden, one that she would power with a car battery.  This announcement made me nervous both because I wasn’t sure she knew her way around electricity and because I am the person who most often runs her to the emergency room when the need arises.

One thing is clear: M doesn’t want animals in her yard.  So when she texted me on a Thursday night to ask if T was at my house and then explained she’d found some creatures in her backyard, I expected that there was trouble on the horizon.  Her text read, “I was watering my planters and two or more small animals came up from the dirt.  I guess they were living there.  I am guessing a person with a pet squirrel (T has a sugar glider) is not afraid to remove them not only from the planter….from the country if possible.”

I sought more details about the wildlife and she informed me that they were, “scary and disturbing and have legs.”

Well okay.  

T and I promised to come around the next morning.  When I texted M that we were on our way she promptly wrote back, “Bring a 45,” so I knew this was going to be one hell of an adventure.  On the way down the street to her house, a ground hog crossed our path.  I feared it was an omen, and not a good one.

M met us at the gate in garden boots with a shovel.  She gave us the shovel and directed us to a galvanized bin that was a bit overgrown.  She assured us that the electricity was off and then she retreated to her house.   We entered the ring.


T began a careful look at the bin in question and inside she found a nest of baby bunnies.


They were neither scary nor disturbing, but they were little.  Mama bunny was nowhere to be found and the notion of moving these bunnies from the yard felt like a death sentence for them.  We persuaded M that they could be safely removed to a corner of her yard.  T and I carried the heavy bin to the location in the back and we hope that their Mama finds them.  They are buried in the grass of the galvanized bin back by the telephone pole and with luck will stay safe.  


M is no longer afraid of the scary creatures she thought she’d discovered.  T and I haven’t destroyed our karma by killing innocent wildlife and we’ve promised to check in next week to ensure that the bunnies are okay.  Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail have a few more days to grow up and get out to see the world.   I’d advise they find another lady’s backyard.

Friday, July 14, 2017

Fleeting Boyhood

For years, JT played in this backyard.  There was no season exempt from his stomping about and the result was a patch of the backyard where grass wouldn’t grow.  Sometimes that patch annoyed me and then I realized that when the grass grew back it would be because the little boy who played in the yard was grown up.  This summer, the patch has filled and the lawn looks quite lovely.


But it must be confessed that I sometimes miss the dusty patch and the sweaty little boy who played out here for hours on end.  Time is that way, I guess, and one lovely thing must make way for another. I am learning my way around this transition, sometimes hesitant and sometimes excited, but always with a full heart.