In my mind, I'm five years old having a high old time wandering and wondering. In reality, I'm now in my late 60s, wowza! I tell you a lot of creativity is still to be found in this old young self. In you, too, whatever your age. Welcome to my barefoot world!
Yesterday was the anniversary of Mama’s Spirit freeing herself to soar into the Universe. Six years ago it was. There being things I wanted to be distracted from, I gathered flowers from the yard and took them to the cemetery. Calendula, freesias, lavender, and pineapple sage. Some for Mama and Daddy, some for the two baby sisters, and some for Uncle Frank, Daddy’s younger brother. When I set the tin can of flowers on Mama’s and Daddy’s gravesite, I noticed that all the flowers were ones I’ve been growing the past six years. That’s a feat I had no idea I would’ve or could’ve been part of my story. I like to think Mama noticed, too. About the flowers, that is.
I’ve only come around to wearing the color pink. Mama dressed me up a lot in pink when I was a kid, as well as she’d gift me pink clothes when I was on my own. So, yup, no pink for me. I didn’t care that some people thought it was a good color for me. I do think pink is a pretty color. It’s a burst of sweetness and light, calm and everything nice. Happy Thursday!
I collected rose hips this winter, with thoughts to plant them and see if they would grow. Silly me thought I could and would remember what color of rose each bag of rose hips are. Oh well. I’m going to plant them anyway. I love surprises.
I’ve always wanted to grow jasmine, and now I have two pots of the sweet scented plant. Did you know it’s part of the olive family? I just learned that. You’ll never know when that fact comes in handy, such as in a game of Jeopardy.
I am partial to the color orange these days. According to some people, orange represents joy, enthusiasm, creativity, and all sorts of things positive. Sounds good to me. When nephew was four or so, he liked to take his stuffed cat with him everywhere. I sometimes frustrated him because I couldn’t understand what he said his friend’s name was. “Owen’s Cat” was what I heard. “No,” he replied. “Owen’s Cat.” Back and forth we went. I couldn’t get it. One day I happened to look closely at nephew’s stuffed cat as he said, “Owen’s Cat.” Oh. The cat was orange. Orange Cat! Auntie Susie was such a duh! These orange and yellow flowers have begun to multiply in the front yard. I like that. I think they’re called pot marigold also known as calendula.
"You're looking mighty polite and pretty," I said to the clump of Jupiter's Beard. "What gives?" No answer. What would I do if any of the Jupiter's Beard spoke? I did wonder if the Jupiter's Beard was looking nice for the nearby sunflower that's in bloom. Last week or so I pulled out weeds around the sunflower. I'm glad I didn't pull it out. Talk about a late bloomer. I sowed sunflower seeds in this particular part of the yard last Spring. A few sprouted, a couple bloomed. This one stubbornly hung on until it did its thing a few days ago. How cool is that! There's another, smaller, sunflower growing beside this guy. Also a survivor from last year. Will it bloom? We shall see. Today, I'm linking up with Mosaic Monday . Check it out here .
The rosemary in the front yard is in bloom. Delightful! This is the second winter that I've noticed the rosemary plants in full flower. If I'm remembering correctly, the plants didn't bloom in the winter when they were under Mama's care. I wonder if I've thrown their blooming cycle out of whack because I don't trim nor prune them as often or as short as Mama did. Not that it matters. The rosemary plants can bloom anytime they want. The bees and hummingbirds are enjoying the flowers as much as we are. Hello Mosaic Monday !
“Power at its best is love implementing the demands of justice, and justice at its best is love correcting everything that stands against love.” ~ Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. Good cheer, Friends, One and All! It's time for Mosaic Monday . Thanks to hostess Angie of Letting Go of the Bay Leaf .
Sweet Pea Song, my computer, is whining loudly. She's quite hot to the touch. At least we're not in Death Valley right now. Weather experts say it's 130 Fahrenheit. Ouch! In our neck of the woods, the temperature has inched up to 102 Fahrenheit. Seven degrees less than yesterday's high point. Hopefully, that's the highest it gets around here for the rest of the year. Tomorrow, the temperatures ought to start dipping into the 90s and stay that way for the rest of the week. Yippiee! The heat has kept me indoors. So, I've been playing with new things. Embroidering (kinda), for one. I drew an elephant on what was once the bodice of Mama's dress and outlined it in green backstitches and regular stitches. This is my first piece since I was 9 or 10. I finally have the patience and attention span to keep on practicing hand and embroidery stitches. So I think. Back in February, I bought a set of watercolor paints. On Saturday evening I started playing with them.
I read that morning glory blooms last one day, hence the sweet flower's name. Well, then, I shall stop complaining about how quickly the new kind of morning glory I sowed this year fades away. Isn't it gorgeous, oh so frilly pretty in pink? By the way, do you see a face in the morning glory? I see a couple. In the above color photo, when I focus on the slit, which looks like an eye, I see a lion's face. Now, in the black and white photo below, I see a profile of a face looking to the left in that bottom petal. Anyone else see a chin and mouth? Do you see faces in flowers, clouds, trees, and other objects? There's a name for that ability. It's called pareidolia. There are times when I'd rather not see faces in things, especially when they're spooky. I'm sharing with Mosaic Monday today. Yes, I know it's Tuesday. :-)
I was sitting in front of the computer about to start today's post when I heard it. Pop! Huh? I looked over to the left where the sound came. What do ya know? A California poppy pod makes a sound when it opens. Pop! And, the seeds go all over the place. Yesterday, I harvested a pocketful of poppy pods and left them all on a small oval plate on top of the radio. The poppy pod that popped was not on the plate. Did the pod jump off the plate as it opened? So it seems. That's my story for today. Much more interesting than I was about to write. Pop! I wonder if that's how poppies got their name. All Seasons is where I'm heading now. The meme is hosted by Jesh at The Jesh Studio . Come join me if you like.
All of a sudden, Mama's roses are in bloom. Pop! Pop! Pop! I heeded the experts and hacked away at most of the rose bushes when it was pruning time. Mama liked to let them grow tall. So do I. It's just that the roses got to looking wimpy and straggly and all things not good. Pop, pop, pop. Pop! About two years ago, I transplanted this orange rose bush from the other side of the backyard. The butterfly bush had a way of hiding it away from the sun during the summer. This year it looks so much happier than last year. Pop. Pop! Pop. It's time for Mosaic Monday . Click here to check out photo collages by other bloggers. Take care out there! Pop. Pop. Pop.
"Why are you cleaning? "asked Molly the pinky-nose (wild) Cat, as she scrambled among our feet, the broom, and the vacuum cleaner. "Are we having another party?" Nope, it's the 23rd, our monthly housecleaning date, a 2020 venture. So far, so good. With the Husband and I working together, we're done in a couple of hours. So it seemed today. Sweep. Dust. Vacuum. Scrub. Molly made sure she was somewhere else. This is what you see when you walk up our driveway. Sorry, I don't remember the names of anything that's not a rose, daisy, spider plant, California poppy, canna lily, jade, or uhm, I think that's it. Geranium! How I can forget geraniums? We have pink, white, red, bi-color, vine, bush, smelly, and not smelly at all. They live in the front yard, too. They're up towards the house so you can barely see them in the photo. I have a decent success rate of propagating geraniums for someone who goes on intuition and by hit-and-miss.
The Husband and I encountered danger yesterday—strawberry sauce. Oh my gosh! I modified a recipe that called for 2 cups of diced strawberries. The recipe probably meant a dry measuring cup, but I overfilled a two-cup liquid measuring cup. The strawberries went into a small saucepan with juice from a medium-sized lemon, a half a cap full of limoncello (in place of vanilla), and about 2/3 to 3/4 cup of superfine sugar. The sugar is a guess because I poured directly from the box, stopping only when it looked like it would be too much. I brought the concoction to a boil, stirring occasionally, then simmered it for 15 minutes. We ate the strawberry sauce over a slice of toasted sourdough bread and a healthy sprinkling of ground almonds. Mmmmmmm. Once upon a time, I would've eaten all of the sauce in one sitting and then promptly fall asleep in a drunken daze. The Husband said the sauce caused his eyelids and the bags under his eyes to sweat. When he was a kid, sweet tart
He is the hairy hippie that has my heart. Nothing harried about him, the handsome Husband. This imaginary creature may look harried, but she is not at all. Her happy hairiness was inspired by that pink geranium. Yup. It's the letter H at ABC Wednesday . Come along and check out the other ABCW participants.