BOO 5/17/2002-8/26/2009

Tuesday night I made the difficult decision to have our dog, Boo, euthanized.

Although she was only 7 years old, for the past half a year or more, a tumor was growing in her abdomen. It caused her no pain and did not slow her noticeably until Sunday morning. Gourdo and I took the dogs for a walk, and she started out running ahead of us with her usual zest, nosing into every groundhog hole and checking every tree for squirrels. The return was a different story. She lagged behind us for the first time ever. Monday she seemed fine, but by Tuesday night she was in misery. It was a sorry night for both of us. Wednesday morning I brought her to the vet. She was completely absorbed in her pain by then, and I was completely absorbed in her. It was horrible.

I'll spare you the details of all this, and instead, I'll share with you a few of the good things about my dear Boo.

Boo was a miserable puppy, born in a barn to people who didn't coddle or interact with the litter. She was peppered with fleas, had runny eyes and nose, and a wispy, brittle coat. Her tail was bald and bent where a steer stepped on it. It was her pathetic-ness rather than her white coat that earned her the name Boo-boo. She was wary of humans in general, and men in particular. She was terrified of the broom and of the vacuum cleaner.

Oddly, though, she loved fireworks. Everything from bottle rockets to smoke bombs were cause for delight. Even sparks from a fire circle excited Boo. Once she broke free of our hold and snatched up a lit roman candle. She ran all around the yard with it, firing colorful balls of fire at anyone who tried to get it away from her.

As she matured, she finally mellowed a little in her attitude toward men, but she always remained a vigilant guard dog whose bark would deter any but the most intrepid individuals. She loved my dad, though. When he came for Sunday visits, she greeted him with cries of joy and she stayed near him till he left to return home.

She loved to visit grandma in Hocking County. As soon as we'd turn off Route 33 and onto the road my mother-in-law lived on, Boo would sit up in the van and stick her nose out the window, deeply inhaling the scent of the forest.

She slept beside my bed, and every night she'd give a long, exaggerated sigh as she settled. It was so comical! Don't dogs sleep almost all day? Why the big sigh as if to say, "Man, I am SO ready for bed!" It always made me smile.

If anyone left a dirty dish sitting in the kitchen sink she'd pull it out and clean it off, breaking the dish more often than not. She shedded prolifically. Although she was not permitted on the furniture, and we never caught her there, patches of white fur indicated exactly where she spent the day while we were at work.

She figured out how to open the cabinet to get into the trash. She ate garbage. She tangled with skunks. She chased cars. She growled at men. She growled at children.

But she loved her family, and we loved her. We'll miss her. And I believe, as many animal lovers do, that we'll see our pets in heaven. Until then, Boo.

PSALM 36:6 Your righteousness is like the mighty mountains, your judgments are like the great deep; you save humans and animals alike, O LORD. (NRS)

1CORINTHIANS 15:38 But God gives it a body as he has determined, and to each kind of seed he gives its own body. 39 All flesh is not the same: Men have one kind of flesh, animals have another, birds another and fish another. 40 There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. 41 The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor. 42 So will it be with the resurrection of the dead. The body that is sown is perishable, it is raised imperishable; 43 it is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory; it is sown in weakness, it is raised in power; 44 it is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body. If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body.

Rogue's Gallery

Feast your eyes on the mug shots of five garden rogues: thistle, bindweed, purslane, lambs quarters and black medic. I'm sure there are some places where these devils are welcome. I know purslane and lambs quarters are edible. Some people probably even welcome them. But I don't.

Thistle is the worst, I suppose, as this rogue is armed with spiny leaves that make pulling a literal pain. Not only that, it has a taproot that reaches to China, as well as a penchant for colonizing. The only good thing about thistle is the goldfinches seem to love the seed. I wish they'd eat every bit of it so it didn't self-sow so rambunctiously.

Bindweed and its kin are morning glories that take over wherever they happen to grow. I've seen lawns and flower beds completely choked out by bindweed. They aren't difficult to pull, but supposedly every bit of root left in the soil regenerates into a new plant. Nasty habit, that.

Purslane has succulent leaves and fleshy stems. It has a habit of spreading wide and low over the ground. It produces zillions of seeds that sprout in every nook and cranny of our patio. Quite nutritious, I'm told. Maybe someday I'll gather up the nerve to try it. Of course, should I find I like it, it will undoubtedly quit growing in my patio and walkways and garden as prolifically as it does. Alas.

The last mug shot is of black medic. The trefoil leaves remind one of another spreading, weedy groundcover, white clover. Black medic has small yellow flower heads and it spreads out in a tangled mat all over my flower bed. When I go to pull it up its little black seeds scatter everywhere. I'm tempted to vacuum my flower beds.

All summer I pull and hoe, but by August it's impossible. The rogues have the upper hand. I quit. Weed photos by JulenaJo.

Hints of Autumn

Ok, it's still really early, but to me it feels like autumn is definitely on the horizon. There was fog this morning. Dew on the spiderwebs. Darkness barely lifting at 6 a.m. I took a few photos to show how it looked outside my back door. I even included a photo of my "creative potting" technique! LOL There is a story there, but that's for another day.

I so dread seeing summer's end that maybe I get a little jumpy at the first inkling of autumn. Now, granted, I enjoy all the seasons for their various blessings, but winter is harder and harder to bear the older I get.

This summer has been odd in so many ways. Cooler than ever, for one thing. No bugs, for another. That is probably because it's been too dry for insects. I've seen more honeybees though--they've been swarming to my birdbath and the Russian sage--and I'm happy for that. But I've not seen more than a few beetles on the Rose of Sharon and the roses. There are no mosquitoes.

Evenings on the patio are a delight without insect pests to bother us. The only concerns this year are lack of water and the rampant weeds, especially thistle and black medic. August Fog photos by JulenaJo.

Busy Week, Fun Week

We have just completed county fair week and another Saturday at Farmer's Market. Talk about busy!

Our daughter brought her horse to the fair as a 4-H project, and she entered showmanship, pleasure, and contesting classes with him. In one short year she's learned how to care for a horse and how to ride well enough to enter these classes and enjoy it. Even though she didn't place, she rode as well or better than some who've been riding from little on. Watching her perform at the fair was the most fun I've had in years. Fair week was also the most exhausting week we've had in years.

Meanwhile, the cutting garden that I've been tending all summer has yielded gorgeous armloads of sunflowers, cosmos, larkspur and zinnia for the Farmer's Market. But guess what? They don't sell! Imagine that! People kept commenting on them and touching the Velvet Queen sunflowers. "Are these real? Oh my gosh! They ARE! Beautiful!" Not one stem sold. I gave my bouquets away to another vendor rather than take them home. I told her I might just skip the flowers next weekend but she pointed out that they did make our booth space the most attractive at the Market, and that drew people to it. What did sell was my tatting and crochet work and the dried gourds my husband has been dying and crafting into birdhouses. We're running out of gourds and there are 3 more weeks of Market to go. I will be busy crocheting and tatting this week.

Our weather continues to be extraordinarily dry and, for the most part, cooler than usual. Today, however, we'll see temps in the 90s with a desiccating wind. It feels as though a storm could blow up, but Gourdo says there is nothing in the forecast. Our lawn is non-existent, but at least we are saving money on the mowing. Some of the young oak trees and roses look extremely chlorotic. I'm sure the dry conditions have a lot to do with it. Even though I've been watering the roses, it's a very stressful situation for them. On the other hand, Gourdhenge, as you can see in the first photo above, looks marvelous, simply marvelous! 2009 Garden Photos by JulenaJo.

Home, Sweet Home

For weeks I've been hearing a male house wren singing all around the yard. I assumed he was trying to convince his wife to take up housekeeping in one of the bluebird houses on our property. Yesterday, though, I saw him fly to this old can that someone left to rust over a metal fencepost. Soon his wife appeared, too. Both of them took turns entering it, bringing food to their babies.

When I drew near to photograph the can I noticed twigs hanging down. Here it is: Home, Sweet Home.

For me, this is cause for celebration. I don't know why the little wren is so dear to me. It is drab and brown, and it is very small. You'd never notice a wren at all if it weren't for its song, a persistent, cheerful trill that is the very sound of summer. You can hear it and see photos of the wren here: http://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/House_wren/id.

Perhaps one reason I so enjoy having the wrens nesting in our yard is because when I was a child my grandparents used to hang wren houses in their trees, and my grandmother, whose name I've taken as my online name, was always so happy if a wren took up residence in one of them. She and I would sit on her porch and watch the wren family all summer.

Grandpa built the wren houses, carefully making sure that the opening was exactly the size of a quarter. Anything larger and the horrible "spotsie"--what my grandmother called the non-native and invasive House Sparrow--would take over the house.

"Spotsies" have been my own enemy here, as they've ruthlessly driven out the native and desirable Eastern Bluebirds from my next boxes. The story of broken eggs and killed adult and baby bluebirds is heartbreaking fodder for an entry some other day.

At any rate, the cute little wren houses were always painted white with green roofs. Grandma dictated where they should hang--it was important that we could easily observe the house from the comfort of her porch. And we spent many pleasant hours watching those birds, from the hopeful attempts of Mr. Wren to lure his spouse to a chosen site to the clumsy first flight of newly fledged babies. One of the cutest things about wrens, I think, is how Mr. Wren, during his initial courtship, will earnestly begin to build a nest in a box. When he finally convinces Mrs. Wren to move in, she scolds angrily and tosses his pitiful attempt at setting up housekeeping out the front door! Then she begins anew to build a nest, this time to her satisfaction. Honestly, how can one not anthropomorphize that kind of behavior?

The coffee can abode is well out of sight from my patio, so I won't be able to watch it, but I still enjoy the summer song of my little wrens. I'm happy to have them in my garden. Wren Nest photo by JulenaJo.

Note: See how brown the grass is in the above photo? While we are not technically in a drought, we have had a very dry summer and it's taking a toll on many of my trees and plants.

Thank you, Sunflower!

"Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow." Helen Keller.

The above quote by Helen Keller seems perfectly suited to both my frame of mind as well as the sunflowers harvested recently from my new cutting garden. I planted a variety of them and they are beginning to bloom now, just in time for the busy month of August at the Farmer's Market.

Colorful zinnias, snapdragons, and cosmos are also coming into bloom. All of these flowers can be directly sown into the garden in early spring, are not bothered by insects, and produce reliably even when the weather is less than cooperative, making them an ideal choice for growing in a cutting garden. And who can resist the charm of a bouquet that includes sunflowers? Not me!

Sunflowers appeal to me on many levels. Their cheerful, open faces delight--no mysteries or secrets are hidden there. Bees and birds feast on them. And their habit of following the sun intrigues me. That is why the inspirational quote by Helen Keller springs to mind as I admire my garden of sunflowers.

As I cut the sunflowers for my bouquet I was reminded to keep my face turned to the sunshine. I needed a gentle reminder of this lesson today, and isn't it serendipitous how a few minutes in the garden provided it? Thank you, Sunflower! Sunflower photos by JulenaJo.

Garden Update

The blog has taken back seat to other pursuits recently, including the actual work in the garden, as well as tatting and trying to come up with things for the Farmer's Market. I am not particularly pleased with this year's flower bed. Weeds, especially thistle, are winning the war I wage against them. Lack of rain is taking a toll, stressing everything--except the thistles--in spite of frequent watering with a hose. The lawn is riddled with bald patches and is more weeds than grass. Today I squashed the first Japanese beetle, munching away on my Rose of Sharon. The Rose of Sharon opened its first blossom today, too, coincidentally.

Gourdo is concerned about the lack of rainfall, especially now that the gourd vines are starting to scramble up the sides of Gourdhenge. We've seen a few gourd blossoms unfurl each evening, attracting night-flying moths, which pollinate the creamy white flowers. No sign of baby gourds yet, though, much to Gourdo's consternation.

Another concern of Gourdo's and mine is the yellowing of our pin oak trees. They look chlorotic and we fear their eventual demise. I haven't taken a soil sample in to the county extension office for testing, but that's what various garden web sites recommend, as the wrong amendment to the soil could make the matter worse.

We've had many years of relatively easy gardening: now we're up against some challenges. I'll let you know how it goes! Garden 2009 photos by JulenaJo.

Farmer's Market

Our community puts on a Farmer's Market on Saturday mornings in the summer and early fall. It's held on a covered bridge that crosses between a community parking lot and a lovely park. This is the first year for us to participate. Our table of goodies is shown here, featuring mostly gourds and some cut flowers and tatting/knitting that I crafted to sell. The rest of the bridge filled up with vendors as the morning progressed but by noon it was all over. We made a modest haul, but it was a lot of fun and we're looking forward to our next scheduled weekend.

Oddly, the fresh-cut flowers weren't the big seller for us, but they did draw a lot of comments--as did the tatting. Everyone's grandmother tatted and the sight of me sitting there with my lace and shuttle in my hands drew comments from many passersby. The biggest draw by far was the gourds. A lot of people commented and several were delighted to spend $5 or $10 on a dried, hard-shell gourd. The ones stained red in the photo are apple shaped and sold immediately. Gourdo was pleased.

I heard from other vendors that the day was slow. If that's the case, I can't wait to see what a busy Saturday looks like.

The cutting garden and gourd patch have been keeping us busy, but this first, tentative foray into selling at the Farmer's Market has renewed our faith in what we're doing. That sitting there at the market watching the world go by is fun is the proverbial frosting on the cake.

Oh, and speaking of cake--there were so many delicious baked goods at the market! It was hard to keep from spending every dollar we made on the cakes, fry pies, rolls and jams from the neighboring vendors.

Do yourself a favor and pay a visit to a local Farmer's Market soon. It's a great way to spend a morning and the fresh produce, crafts and baked goods are amazing. Farmer's Market photos by JulenaJo.

Meet 'New Dawn'

If you haven't already met 'New Dawn' you are in for a treat. I planted her early last year along with two other roses on the west side of our pergola in a narrow, six-foot long bed. It quickly became apparent that I'll be moving the other two roses. 'New Dawn' is taking up every bit of room, and she's still a baby. The first year she just "settled in." Now she's about to go wild, sending out thick, healthy canes in every direction.

I had been trying to train the canes up, but finally decided it was not going to work. The vigorous growth demanded space. I fanned the canes out and re-tied them. You could practically hear the plant sigh with happiness. Ahhh.

Dozens of fragrant blooms have already opened from head to toe along the length of the canes, with scads of fat buds in the wings, waiting their turn to burst into bloom. Each blossom has that old fashioned character that I so love in a rose. The petals unfurl like fresh linens billowing on a summer breeze. They are a soft, delicate pink, and the foliage is a dark, glossy green that is the perfect background for the blooms.

Hardy to zone 4, 'New Dawn' does fine in my Ohio garden with minimal winterizing. This spring I had to trim off a few dead ends, but nothing more. The foliage doesn't seem to mind the wind that whips around my yard more often than not.

Friends of ours who live in town have two 'New Dawn' roses growing up and over an arbor. Granted, townies have more protection from the elements than we do here in the country, but their roses scrambled up and over the arbor in short order, and the canes reach to the heavens as though seeking foothold there. Although our friends attack their plants with loppers each year, trying to keep the rampant growth from burying their arbor, I think our rustic pergola can withstand whatever 'New Dawn' dishes out. Twenty-foot canes would be welcome here as I want some shade for my patio.

This is the first year for me to experience the spring flush of bloom for 'New Dawn' in my garden; I am interested to see what the rest of the summer holds. It seems to me that our friends have little bloom after the first flush. An internet search leads me to believe that this is a common occurrence. I'm hoping that the great amount of sunshine here, plus diligent deadheading, will encourage quick and plentiful rebloom.

Notes: 'New Dawn' was introduced in 1930, a sport of 'Dr. W. Van Fleet'. It was the first ever patented plant in the U.S. In 1997, 'New Dawn' was named as one of the world's favorite roses and was inducted into the Rose Hall of Fame by the World Federation of Rose Societies (www.worldrose.org). New Dawn Photos by JulenaJo.

'Black Lace'--A Sizzler

Black Lace. What a sizzling name for one hottie of a plant.

Here in my Ohio garden one of the star performers is the Sambucus nigra 'Black Lace', a dazzling, dark-leaved elderberry. It's in the back of the flower bed, where the dark, finely cut foliage sets off everything sited in front of it. Right now it's covered with pink flowers similar to Queen Anne's Lace. Sterile berries will follow. The fruit is edible, but I leave it for the birds.

I added this gem to my garden several seasons ago, and as it grows taller I find myself wishing I had two or three more of them. The graceful shrub will attain a size of approximately 6-8 feet tall and wide. It's perfectly hardy in zone 5, and it is reputed to be hardy to zone 4. It withstands the wind, the heat, the cold--everything Mother Nature has to offer. I see no signs of any kind of disease or pests.

'Black Lace' Sambucus may be used as a substitute for Japanese maples in gardens and yards like mine where conditions wreak havoc on tender trees. That's a stellar idea for this sizzler. Black Lace Photos by JulenaJo.

A Rose By Any Name

Some books are irresistible. So, for me, is A Rose by Any Name: The Little-Known Lore and Deep-Rooted History of Rose Names. This book is a charmer on many levels. Most obvious to the casual peruser of books is the eye-catching cover and glorious selection of artwork throughout the book. This is not a straightforward encyclopedia of roses with glossy photos and descriptive text for each entry. No, this is something more--the artwork is culled from heirloom rose catalogs, paintings, rare books, and magazines. The thick, creamy pages are edged in soft green. Each chapter features a rose in text and in art, as well as others of its class or relation. Yet, for all its beauty, the book is not a mere gift book (although it would make a great gift for any lover of art, antiquities or roses). The text is delicious, too: informative and fact-filled, the authors' love of roses permeates every line. It's a delightful and chatty ramble through the history of roses and the people who love(d) them. Want a small taste? Below are the first lines from the entry on 'Dr. Huey', the sturdy rose on whose rootstock many modern roses are grafted.

" 'Dr. Huey' really gets around. In Brooklyn, New York, for instance, this local denizen is often seen lounging against stoops, crowding doorways, and leaning over concrete grottos that house statues of the Virgin Mary. Ninety miles east of there, upscale Hamptons nurseries sometimes tag the same plant "Long Island Red," claiming to have found it on old estates, and price it at $350 a pop. From the rush of buyers you'd have thought they were hawking heirloom Tiffany sterling. Sure, this rose is beautiful--but only for a day or two. Then heat and humidity leave the velvety flowers hanging like rags, their limp petals the color of dried blood. This is 'Dr. Huey', undercover agent of the rose world."

Don't you love it? Check it out from the Library. You, like me, might find you have to get a copy of your own!

Variegated Iris

Often gardeners are thought of as being frugal individuals. After all, gardeners recycle kitchen waste into compost, grow and put up their own food, and share and swap plants and seeds with each other--all frugal activities.

But there is another side to gardeners. For, while we will happily scour the discount bins post-season in hopes of scoring cheap seeds and plants past their prime, we will also spend rather recklessly if we find something unusual and rare. How frugal is that?

Case in point: the variegated iris. I had to have it. I don't recall what I spent for it when I bought it a couple years ago--maybe $30 or so, but I do recall it was a large-sized container and I cringed inwardly. It seemed like a lot of money at the time, and it's not THAT exotic or rare. However, since I knew I wanted it, I squelched those second thoughts as quickly and mercilessly as I do Japanese beetles on my roses. I have not regretted it.

In fact, if I wanted to, I could justify the expense and consider it money well-spent. The foliage on this plant is a spot of sunshine in early spring, and it lasts well into summer. The cheerful purple flowers are a mid-spring delight. Like other irises, the variegated sort multiplies freely. I expect to be dividing them in another year or so. Frugal!

Right now, this is the only variety of iris in my garden. I longingly peruse catalogs and the offerings of fellow gardeners, but I hesitate to indulge. While nothing can beat the form and splashy color of irises in the spring garden, they tend to have a relatively short bloom period. And the foliage, especially on bearded irises, gets ragged after a while. Because of this, I haven't quite figured out how to work irises into my mixed flower bed.

While visiting in southeast Ohio last weekend I was invited to tour a private garden which featured long rows of heirloom irises in a rainbow of colors. It was stunning, to say the least. I didn't ask what was in the beds the rest of the year, and I wish I had. I might have learned how to better work this old-fashioned beauty into my own garden. Variegated Iris photo by JulenaJo.

Icebergs in May

Whenever I visit a nursery or garden, my eye is drawn to the unusual. That's how the two roses above found their way into my garden. 'Brilliant Pink Iceberg' is at the top, a lovely rose that looks as though its light pink petals were hand painted with strokes of deeper pink.

'Brilliant Pink Iceberg' is a floribunda rose, a relative of the classic 'Iceberg,' aka 'Scheewittchen' (Snow White, introduced in 1958) from the house of Kordes in Germany. It's not too tall in my garden, well under 3 feet, and it blooms prolifically. It resists black spot and disease, and the blooms have a sweet, light rose scent. The buds are long and pointed and beautiful to watch as they unfurl. Best of all, it's got an unexpected knot of deep burgundy stamens at the center when the flowers fully open. That's what caught my eye when I first saw the rose--that distinctive and unusual dark center.

Last year I added 'Burgundy Iceberg' to my garden. The second rose above, 'Burgundy Iceberg' features striking, dark, wine colored blooms, and the nice size and shape, lovely pointed buds, and overall good health of its famous relatives. It surprised me with its very first blossom this spring, however. Some of the petals are pristine white--obviously flaunting its noble 'Iceberg' heritage. These Iceberg descendants show a lot of variation in their coloring, as a Google image search reveals. It will be interesting to see how 'Burgundy' performs for the rest of the season.

Notes: Gourdo's mom welcomed mama cat and the trio of kittens. We will help her neuter or spay them when the time comes. Almost all the roses in my garden bloomed this weekend. Many of the flower seeds planted in the cutting garden are up. I'm looking forward to having tomorrow off to putter about the yard and gardens. Thank a veteran! Brilliant Pink and Burgundy Iceberg photos by JulenaJo.

Today's Trash

Why do people think they can dump unwanted pets in the country? It is something I have seen many times over the years, and each time it blows me away.

Mama and her 3 kittens were deposited near our house yesterday. I have no idea by whom or when. The coward no doubt opened his or her car door and plunked her and her litter onto the ground and drove off hurriedly, before anyone could notice.

The cats are clean and well-kept. Judging from how mama wants to come right into the house with us, I expect she lived at least part of her life with a human family, indoors. She's loving and affectionate. I believe this must be her first litter as she is barely full grown herself.

Mama hid her kittens and scoped out the situation at our house after being left behind. Are these people friendly? Do they like cats? Will they have food and water? Will my babies be safe with them? Can we sleep here?

Maybe it seems like I'm giving this creature human thoughts, and you think I shouldn't do that. But once she saw we welcomed her and fed her, mama brought her kittens to the door. As soon as a rug-lined box was rustled up, she nested there with her babies. She ate and drank. She purred. She followed us as we worked about the yard and garden. She still seems to love people, even after being abandoned.

We would love to keep these kittens and their mother, but it is simply not practical for us. First of all, we already have a cat, Jasmine, and two dogs, Boo and Roxy. Boo has a strong hunting instinct. I'm afraid she might view these kittens as prey. Secondly, we would have to spay or neuter all of them, and this is a bad time for us to come up with that kind of money. So, the bottom line is, we have to do what the previous owner shirked doing: we have to find homes for these adorable creatures.

We are visiting Gourdo's mother this holiday weekend and will bring the cats to her house. She has agreed to take two of them, but the kittens are not quite old enough to leave their mother. I'm hoping she will keep the entire litter until the kittens are weaned. Then we can all try to find a home for the remaining two cats.

Note: Willy White Socks, above, has extra toes. He and one of his siblings are six or seven-toed. The third kitten and mama do not. The technical term for this is polydactyl. Ernest Hemingway had a polydactyl cat, and the many-toed descendants of his cat live on today at his former home and museum in Key West, Florida, where they are provided for by the terms of his will. Cat Photos by JulenaJo.

Double Blanc de Coubert: A Dazzler

Every day there is something new in the garden. Today it was Double Blanc de Coubert bursting into bloom. The sight and scent of this rose are magnificent. Remember how severely I pruned my roses just a short while ago? Obviously, it did not harm them any. The white of these petals is dazzling, without a hint of cream or pink. Seldom in nature does one see such a pure, unadulterated white. The blossoms remind me of new white sheets, freshly laundered, hanging on a line to dry. The petals are even slightly rumpled, the way linens would be as they flap in the breeze.

Double Blanc de Coubert is hardy to zone 3 or 4, reblooms all season long, resists disease and pests, and needs little care, although deadheading is recommended, as it is with most roses. It's said to reach 6 ft. in height and width, but it attains probably half that size in my zone 5 garden--very manageable. On the downside, Double Blanc de Coubert doesn't take well to the vase. It begins to wither almost immediately upon cutting. Even on the plant, the blossoms fade quickly and unattractively. Since new buds are always coming on, that's not much of a problem, in my opinion.

Notes: The first iris blossom opened today. A ruby-throated hummingbird, male, has been visiting the coral bells every day. Planted tomatoes and peppers today. Still have a few flowers to get in, and some seeds to plant. The first gourd has sprouted. Lots to do before the holiday weekend takes us away! Double Blanc de Coubert Photo by JulenaJo.

Stern Task Master

There hasn't been as much activity in the blog as I'd like, but there has been activity in the garden. With his unblinking, green glass eyes, the clay tile lizard has been overseeing it all from a sunny spot between the ajuga and the ranunculus repens. The ajuga was rescued last year from the lawn. It was ground cover around the old house. The old flower beds were razed and turned to lawn and ajuga came up every year, but was mowed before it bloomed. Last year I dug some up and put it in the flower bed, where, as you see in the second photo, it is thriving. The bees love it because it blooms so early and there are so few sources of nectar then. Bumblebees in particular seem drawn to it. I love it, because it's attractive and crowds out weeds, but is not overly aggressive.

The ranunculus is not a dense ground cover, but spreads with loosely thrown runners and offers cheerful yellow bloom that takes up after the daffodils fade. I'm happy to let it spread wherever it will.

The third photo above shows the drumstick allium that I planted last fall--and the sad state of my flower bed. It's much less weedy now, as I spent quite a bit of time on it this weekend. I hoed and pulled and planted and moved things around. In addition to the work on the flower bed, I planted several rows of flowers in what I hope will become a cutting garden. The cutting garden is back by "Gourdhenge," the timber structure in the background of the allium photo. A variety of sunflowers, zinnias, cosmos and other old-fashioned flowers went into the rows. If they do well, I plan to sell bunches of them at a local farmer's market this summer. We shall see!

At any rate, the work outdoors leaves little time for blogging, and much more remains to be done. Packets of seeds, tomato and pepper plants, and bags of mulch are all over the house and patio, begging silently for attention. Eventually, the bulk of the work will be finished. I can sit with my feet up and enjoy the fruits of my labor. For now, though, it's almost overwhelming.

Oh, the green-eyed garden lizard is a stern task master! He cannot follow me into the house at night, though. I'll sneak a little writing in here and there as time permits. Cheers! Lizard, Ajuga and Mid-Spring Garden View Photos by JulenaJo.

The First Rose to Bloom: Rose de Rescht

The first rose to bloom in the garden this year: Rose de Rescht. What a lovely old garden rose!

While many old roses bloom only once, in spring, Rose de Rescht is classified as a Portland rose and reblooms all season. This small class of roses is among the first European hybrids bred from Chinese imports. The class earned its name from Margaret Cavendish, the Duchess of Portland (1715-1785), who used her wealth to amass great collections of art and natural history, flora and fauna. She established a zoo, an aviary and a botanical garden, which is sadly long gone.

The Portland class, including Rose de Rescht, is repeat-blooming and fragrant, perhaps due to ancestry that includes autumn damask, 'Quatre Saisons' (Rosa damascena bifera). Rose de Rescht bloom are fully double pompoms of vivid cerise red, almost fuchsia, with hints of magenta. The blooms are not large, only 2-3 inches in diameter, but the intense color makes them pop in the garden. The rose is reliably hardy in zones 4-9 and will attain a modest size of 2 by 3 feet.

I found a wonderful article on the web, if you're interested in reading up on this wonderful rose: http://www.pswdistrict.org/text/articles/romnov04.html. As Rose de Rescht is one of the roses I planted late last season, I am just getting to know her myself. That first bloom is a winner, though. I'm sure it will be a long and happy acquaintance. Rose de Rescht photos by JulenaJo.

Boo-Boo: Skunked!

Skunks eat grubs. Did you know that? I like skunks better than Japanese beetles, whose larvae hide in my lawn and flower beds. So, if skunks are eating those, I guess I can like them for that reason. I really hate Japanese beetles, though, so you can imagine how little I like skunks.

However, in my world, as in yours I have no doubt, skunks and dogs do not mix. Meet Boo, the Great White Hunter. The horribly smelly, stinky, Great White Hunter. Small mammals -- BEWARE!

Boo is a white German shepherd-mystery mutt mix, rescued from a farmhouse where puppies were viewed with no affection whatsoever. When I found her, she was a miserable six-week-old with runny nose and eyes, flea-riddled and terrified of humans, especially men. She cowered whenever I got out the broom to sweep the floors. She hid from men as a pup and growled at them as an adult. Her tail was kinked and bald, as a steer had stepped on her in the barn where she and the other pups were living, their only solid food coming from table scraps that undoubtedly did not provide them with proper nourishment.

I feared it was a mistake to adopt one of these obviously troubled puppies, but my daughter insisted. We put the pup in a cardboard box and got in the car. On the way home, my daughter tried to come up with a name, "Princess! Beauty! Snowball!" All woeful misnomers. I glanced in the rear-view mirror at the pathetic creature peering out of the box and said, "Poor little boo-boo." When we got home and plopped the puppy at Gourdo's feet, a father's day present, he said, "Where'd you get this boo-boo?" I looked at our daughter and said, "Sorry, kiddo, I think we have the puppy's name: Boo it is."

Boo has been a challenge from the beginning, but she's family. I don't entirely trust her around small children or small animals. She no longer is quite so fierce (terrified) around men, but whenever she's nervous about anything she growls. She still casts a dubious eye at the broom, retreating to another room if I get within 10 feet of her with it. Roxy came to live with us when Boo was 4 and I was concerned about how Boo would treat her, but the relationship they've worked out has brought a lot of laughter into our lives. Roxy jumps on Boo, bites her, steals her food and toys--and Boo tolerates it all with uncharacteristic good humor. Roxy never does a thing without looking to see what Boo does first. Roxy has mellowed Boo and brought out her good side.

Anyway, I've digressed. Back to skunks.

The first skunk Boo encountered had wandered into our attached garage seeking garbage or maybe shelter. Boo cornered it behind the trash cans, and I thought it was a kitten. She dragged it from its hiding place by the scruff of the neck, and I was right behind her, yelling, "Drop it, Boo! Drop it!" My son, hearing the commotion from the house, opened the garage door just as I realized it wasn't a kitten but a skunk. I backpedaled out of the garage, shrieking, "CLOSE THE DOOR! CLOSE THE DOOR! SKUNK!"

Boo was sprayed. The garage was sprayed. The entire house reeked for weeks.

Apparently, Boo didn't remember that lesson earlier this week when she discovered a skunk in the woods. She came trotting home across the field from the woods--you know that happy jaunt dogs have with the wide, toothy grin and waving plume of tail? That was Boo. The stink preceded her like a breaker--no, a tsunami. Gourdo hosed her while I scrubbed with vinegar and dishwashing liquid. She spent a couple of days out of the house. I think we have most of it off her, though, as she's merely funky now, rather than skunky.

As ever, she is still our boo-boo. Boo photo by JulenaJo; skunk photo from Wikipedia.

Bargain Shrub

Because I'm always looking for a steal when I shop for garden plants, sometimes I don't get what I bargained for. The above plant is one such "bargain." I ordered it online from a website I read about last year that offered "free" plants. The site offered several items that I wished to incorporate into my garden, so I took the bait. I had checked out the site to see if it was scam and the only complaints that I could find were that the items were very small. I didn't care about that--after all they were "free." Of course, the shipping and handling were monstrous. Still, I reasoned, I'd be getting a lot of material for my buck.

Much of what I ordered did not "take" in my garden. I sort of figured it was a gamble, so I was disappointed but not overly so. The nanking cherries survived and blossomed this year, so that was good. One of the two echinops ritro survived and looks great. Two New England asters are coming up gangbusters--I guess those are practically foolproof. I found the baby's breath while I was weeding, and it survived winter only to take a serious hit when I inadvertantly whacked it with a hoe. I hope it recovers.

The above plants--there are two, and the heartiest of them is in bloom now--thrived. But what are they? I have absolutely no idea. I ordered American highbush cranberry. I don't think that's what this is. Don't they bloom white and have a different shape of leaf? Whatever this is, it's very attractive, and I'm pleased with it. I just wonder if it will bear fruit and what size it will get to be? Does anyone out there know? If so, enlighten me, please! Mystery Shrub photos by JulenaJo.

Oh, Happy May!

Happy May Day!

Let me share one of the most wonderful and miraculous things about spring: new life.

This little fellow was born a bit over a week ago on a Sunday evening at the farm where my daughter works and boards her horse. We were responsible for watching over mama over that weekend as the owners had to be out of town for a family wedding. Mama was one restless and uncomfortable gal. We were so nervous for her!

I think she waited for her people to get home, though, because they weren't there very long on Sunday night before little "Jeff" made his appearance. We received a phone call, and my daughter and I were there within half an hour of his birth. We stayed for about two hours. I could not tear myself away before he learned two things: legs and milk.

Never have I seen anything so miraculous before, nor so incredibly cute. He staggered around the barn on rubbery legs, completely unable to control where he went. After the first half hour or so, he began to suck whenever his muzzle encountered Mama, nuzzling her belly, legs, and flanks. It was blindly, instinctively, knowing there was something wonderful near, but not quite knowing how to attain it. Mama watched proudly and protectively. She didn't seem to mind if he stumbled near a human, but let him get too close to another horse (even though they were all locked in their stalls and could only watch through barred openings) and the surprised onlooker was given a show of heels. Finally, he found nourishment, and at that moment everyone breathed a sigh of relief--even mama, I think! And I felt silly, but there were tears of joy in my eyes.

That was then. Now, of course, he has complete mastery of his knobby-kneed legs. He bucks and twists and cavorts just for the thrill of it. "Look at me!" "Watch this!" "See what I can do!" Then he prances over to gaze at visitors, and his shy, innocent eyes are fringed with the most incredibly long eyelashes. It takes my breath away just to look at him.

Oh, Happy May!

"Jeff" photos by Gourdo.