away

    

I hadn't intended to be away from the blog all summer.  I started working outside of the home and well something had to fall away while I adjusted to new rhythms.  All of a sudden it was October.  I do not really know what happened to September, I blinked and it was over.  The garden is over, mostly.  There are still a few things making a comeback.  Like the basil, green onions, Tulsi, stonecrop, and comfrey...  which all waned a bit in the heat of August but a new flush as soon as the cooler temps (80s) arrived.  The Moonflower is just now blooming, as I planted the seeds quite late.  I sunk them in the hot earth mid July and the vine took it's time, but she's here now and the blooms against the night sky are nothing short of spectacular.  The Harvest Moon rise with moon flowers glowing.  Magic I tell you. 

I got 10 chicks accidentally from the local farm supply store on the town square.  By that I only mean that I hadn't originally planned to get fall chicks.  I had a text from a friend that "Russell's has 5 week old Easter Eggers" oh and 2 Buff Orpingstons... and well I went and rescued them from their wire confines.  Even if we don't keep them, they are here for now, on earth.  Messages came in when I shared them with my Instagram, questions.  You got them and might not keep them?  Yes.  Did you have to ask your husband?  No.  you see I asked my husband one time back in 2012 if I could get chickens.  He trusts my knowledge and care for them and leaves me to manage the flock dynamics. He doesn't worry about or micromanage the details of who comes or goes out in the hen house. He does see to the pine needles that the neighbor threw away and brings me the bags for them and helps peddle the eggs.  

I hope to be in this space more often as the decline of Instagram continues.  The transition from what it used to be to what it is now is apparent for all to see.  I feel it's a struggle to maintain any kind of audience in that space.  I see folks with large audiences struggling to reach the people who want to see them, for the most part.  There are those super popular accounts that still have reach, but for the little folks over there it feels more and more like a waste of time.  I continually feel like posting in a space like the blog might prove to serve me better.  BUT then with news of platforms like Typepad closing it's doors and SO many wonderful blogs I read over there being GONE~ well I'm not sure even how long Blogger with keep it's doors open... 
Well thanks for being here and following along with my little corner of the internet.  Happy Autumn.  Happy October.  

~tina

May showers

 

It's raining, again seems to be May's theme.  These snapshots are in between the rains, outside and during them inside.  They say April Showers bring May flowers.  So what do May showers bring? Hopefully June vegetables.  The tomatoes, zucchini, butternut (must remember to remove pots from on top of them), cukes and potatoes all seem happy.  I do believe that when the sun finally makes an appearance, everything is going to explode.  The Herbs are all happy too.  

I have been going outside as much as possible to check on the gardens and the chickens (and chicks) in between storms.  There is mud, a lot of it.  Not to worry though, because soon it will be HOT and the wet cush of the spring will only be a memory.  

Inside during the storms I have found a lot of time to spend cleaning, rearranging and stripping beds (tackling laundry piles).  How about you? How are you spending these last few days of the month? How's your weather?  

the fourth spring

 

About four years ago, right around this time, I was at Kroger.

Out front, they had one of those seasonal plant displays — you know the kind, right alongside the overpriced ceramic pumpkins in the fall or all the beachy trinkets they roll out every summer.

Usually I walk right by that stuff.

The plants weren’t anything special.

But tucked in there, almost hidden, was a plastic bag with a small rose inside — labeled John Davis Climbing Rose.

I knew that rose. She’s a beauty.

I told myself no. I was there for groceries, not plants.

Got what I needed, went home, started putting everything away…

and I couldn’t stop thinking about that rose.

It was one of those moments where your gut doesn’t whisper — it shouts.

I googled the rose, read everything I could, and paced the backyard looking for a spot she might like.

I grabbed my keys and drove straight back.

And there she was, still waiting — one tiny green tendril poking out of that plastic bag.

This time, I didn’t hesitate.

I wasn’t there for groceries anymore.

I was there for her.

The advice said: don’t prune for the first three years.

Let her sprawl, climb, get wild.

I loved that idea — a little bit of feral tucked into the garden.

The first couple of years, she was shy.

The third year, she bloomed like she meant it.

And this spring, in year four, it was finally time to shape her a little — and wow, did she ever respond.

Now she’s nestled between the lilacs and the comfrey — full, wild, blooming like she’s always belonged here.

A small moment of listening, a few years of patience — and now, every time I walk outside in April, she reminds me.

When something calls to you:

buy the rose.