I did manage to wangle a bit of help, especially when it came to ideation. I also made a companion website (as you do) because there’s so much to say about native plant landscaping (aka wildscaping) that it couldn’t possibly be covered in 5 minutes (the max length for the contest). Anyway, I’m told I can share as much as I want even though contest judging doesn’t conclude until October. So, here you go…

Big thanks to Kelly Simon of Texas Parks & Wildlife, who I interviewed for the video, and with whom I enjoyed “nerding out” very very much.

It seems like every time I get interested in something new (like quilting), I start to do research only to find I’m the million-and-first person to think about taking up the hobby during the pandemic. Apparently, birdwatching, aka birding, is so hot right now.

Aside: I can’t think of birding without conjuring the image of Walter Berglund in Jonathan Franzen’s “Freedom,” which is a fantastic read if you haven’t come across it before. (Note: this post contains affiliate links, so if you happen to purchase something, I’ll get a couple of pennies.)

But I won’t let the whims of the crowd dissuade me from a new pursuit. It makes me feel like a bit of a bandwagon-er, but who’s to say this isn’t my next big hobby? I even became a “friend” of our local National Wildlife Refuge. Woo, hoo!

Besides this fabulous move, I also wangled a couple of “investments” for Christmas gifts, including a spotting scope, a cameraphone adapter and the Audubon Field Guide to Birds, Eastern Region. When we lived in CA, we picked up the Western Region book, not realizing that it would be completely useless to us on this side of the Rockies. Live and learn!

We’ve had a bird feeder up for years, and I’ve come to know some of our visitors, or at least I thought I had. Northern Red Cardinals, both male and female, make frequent appearances, along with sparrows, Carolina Chickadees and Black Tufted Titmice. Previously, I’d see (more accurate: hear) Mourning Doves. And who can forget Wile E. Coyote’s perennial prey?

But I’d never heard of the species that came up when I put one of my first photos into the Merlin bird identification app. It was a Pine Siskin (see below). Not rare or anything, just a new bird for me. I love it. That’s what it’s all about for me — learning, growing and keeping my mind sharp as I grow older.

Do you watch birds? What’s your rarest sighting?

I’ve had a sewing machine for a few Christmases now but hadn’t progressed all that much in my learning — or so I thought. I guess over the years I’ve managed to learn something, because when I decided to try my hand at quilting recently I actually remembered a few things — like how to wind a bobbin (and what a bobbin even is), how to thread a needle, how to replace a presser foot, how to raise and lower the needle, etc.

Yes, these are the absolute basics, but when I first started the machine would “beep” at me all the time for one reason or another. Or I’d sew a lovely long stretch of fabric only to find that my bobbin was empty or my needle unthreaded. So frustrating! At least now I’ve developed a fair measure of competence (and confidence).

My first quilting project was a mini-quilt from Wren Collective — just the upper left-hand (“L”) log-cabin-style corner of a sampler quilt. What I learned is that quilting requires a certain amount of patience and precision, not to mention some math (geometry + arithmetic) skills. I’m not sure I have these in the needed quantities to be a successful and happy quilter, but I’m not giving up yet.

What’s caught my eye is what I’ve learned is called “modern” quilting, which the Modern Quilt Guild defines as functional, but with elements of modern style: “These include, but are not limited to: the use of bold colors and prints, high contrast and graphic areas of solid color, improvisational piecing, minimalism, expansive negative space, and alternate grid work. ‘Modern traditionalism’ or the updating of classic quilt designs is also often seen in modern quilting.”

These aren’t your grandmother’s quilts.

I’ve also learned that “quilting” actually refers only to the part of the project that happens at the end — when you put together backing, batting (called “wadding” by Brits) and the front of the quilt (often pieced/patched together) and sew together the “quilt sandwich.” The artistry there is in creating a compelling, interesting texture, which really appeals to me — though it’s super super difficult for me right now.

My initial quilt (above) was just done very basically with straight lines and quilting along the patchwork borders, but I’ve since begun using it as a practice piece for more involved stitching using a walking foot and even free motion quilting.

So, quilting combines a lot of different elements — that mathematical piece, the color/fabric/pattern choices, overall quilt design, the hands-on cutting and sewing part of things, and, eventually, the quilting. Each seems to engage a different part of my mind, which I find both appealing and therapeutic.

I think it’s enough (along with sewing, which is a subject for another post) to keep me busy for a while.

This came to mind because I’m currently reading LaRose: A Novel by Louise Erdrich and, at one point, the title character (who holds the name in modern times, anyway) is described thusly:

…. LaRose was precise and deliberate. He was becoming an effective human being. He had learned from his birth family how to snare rabbits, make stew, paint fingernails, glue wallpaper, conduct ceremonies, start outside fires in a driving rain, sew with a sewing machine, cut quilt squares, play Halo, gather, dry, and boil various medicine teas. He had learned from the old people how to move between worlds seen and unseen. Peter taught him how to use an ax, a chain saw, safely handle a .22, drive a riding lawn mower, drive a tractor, even a car. Nola taught him how to paint walls, keep animals, how to plant and grow things, how to fry meat, how to bake. Maggie taught him how to hide fear, fake pain, how to punch with a knuckle jutting. How to go for the eyes. How to hook your fingers in a person’s nose from behind and threaten to rip the nose off your face. He hadn’t done these things yet, and neither had Maggie, but she was always looking for a chance.”

Guess how old the kid is at this time in the story? He’s seven.

I’m feeling a bit behind in my parenting.

This reminds me of my “skills for the zombie apocalypse” list from long long ago.

But, so long as they get plenty of water, the native plants are pretty happy. Wildflowers are everywhere, the animals all have burs stuck in their fur (oh, the wonders of seed dispersion), and our little pond is starting to be a little less “black plastic” and a bit more “ecosystem.” Ok, there’s still a lot of black plastic. See for yourself how it’s developed over time….

And because I know you really want to take a good look at how things are these days, here’s a still or two from yesterday.

There’s still a lot more to do, of course, but I think it’s coming along quite nicely, especially with regard to the sound effect — there’s nothing quite like running water to relax you.

I’m sure my cousin thought I was going a bit overboard at the Plant Sale, but the place was buzzing so I certainly wasn’t the only one. I took my trusty wagon — which converts into a dolly and a bunch of other things — and dragged it along to all the tables, picking up lots of things that had caught my eye on the sale list, as well as a few more.

The objective is to fill the space around the waterfall/pond/fountain thingie and make it look less like a black plastic abomination. I’m also looking to expand my literacy about natives in general so I can potentially do some beautification hereabouts — which is sorely needed. I even splurged on a couple of water lilies, which I’m hoping will help me turn the pond into a real ecosystem — slowly but surely.

Here’s what I ended up with:

• Coreopsis lanceolata L. (Lanceleaf Coreopsis, Lance-leaved Coreopsis, Lanceleaf Tickseed, Sand Coreopsis)
• Echinocereus enneacanthus (Pitaya, Strawberry Cactus, Banana Cactus, Cob Cactus, Purple Pitaya, Strawberry Hedgehog Cactus, Prostrate Hedgehog Cactus)
• Echinacea purpurea (L.) (Eastern Purple Coneflower, Purple Coneflower)
• Gaillardia pulchella (Indian Blanket, Firewheel, Girasol Rojo)
• Hesperaloe parviflora (Red Yucca)
• Lonicera sempervirens (Coral Honeysuckle, Trumpet Honeysuckle, Woodbine)
• Machaeranthera tanacetifolia (Tahoka Daisy, Tansy-aster, Tansey-leaf, Tansy-aster)
• Nymphaea mexicana (Yellow Waterlily, Yellow Water-lily, Banana Lily, Banana Waterlily, Sun Lotus)
• Salvia farinacea (Mealy Blue Sage, Mealy Sage. Mealycup Sage)
• Salvia greggii (Autumn Sage. Cherry Sage. Gregg Salvia)
• Scutellaria wrightii (Wright’s Skullcap, Bushy Skullcap, Shrubby Skullcap)
• Sedum nuttallianum (Yellow Stonecrop)

Wish me luck keeping these specimens alive.

Meep meep! Yes, right in our front yard this weekend.

I’ve been working hard this past week on what I’m calling the “dream garden waterfall/fountain/pond project.” After approximately a million aborted attempts (resulting in dead goldfish, among other casualties), a vision that began back in Brooklyn — when we optimistically splurged on a plastic pond liner — has begun to really be realized. Really.

As I pulled the truck around to the garden this weekend, aiming to unload the load of cinder blocks and retaining wall blocks I’d purchased for the project, I hit the brakes when I spied a visitor to our front yard. I wasn’t 100% sure when it was still, but a little movement cemented my original suspicion of what it was.

Please excuse this picture taken from the window of the truck.

What does this have to do with living wild, you ask? In honor of the roadrunner (Geococcyx californianus) and everything else that lives hereabouts, I’ve decided to concentrate on adding native plants and building wildlife habitat on our property this year, instead of cultivating vegetables. (Though I’m still tending perennials like the peach tree and the blackberry bushes.)

This includes adding plants to the dream waterfall/pond in the garden, possibly including aquatic varieties and maybe even fish. I’ve been eager for some time to convert our back yard to Habiturf — maybe this is the year. Kicking this off in earnest in a couple of weeks at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center’s spring native plant sale.

The decision has brought me a great deal of peace, I have to admit, because vegetables need a lot of care and feeding, while native plants are, by definition, easier to grow in this environment. I’ll be working with the climate and soil, rather than against it. This emphasis will also likely result in a prettier yard and garden in general — something I’ve been needing to dedicate myself to for quite a while.

Now, look at what has become of the three bare-root Darrow plants I purchased in September 2013:

Poking around yesterday and bringing in the beginnings of our harvest, I made a few interesting discoveries. First, I found a bird’s nest, made mostly of straw, tucked away neatly within the barbed vines.

And then, another bird’s nest — this one made from sticks.

In all of these pictures you’ve seen lots of green and red berries, but where are the black ones? Oh, you have to look around and, inevitably, they’ll be hiding JUST out of reach.

I decided to leave those to the birds. But I was able to pluck a few — standing on a chair, carefully weaving my arm through the vines, and getting caught on the briars all the same. Then, just as I’d think I’d gotten them all, I’d spot another juicy-looking specimen behind a leaf. That, of course, made me wonder how many others I was missing, so I’d peer at them some more, taking new vantage points in hopes of a ripe one catching my eye.

I remember having adventures like this with my grandmother in East Texas, where we’d go off picking wild dewberries and bringing them back (whatever was left, anyway) for a dewberry cobbler. That’s why I planted these — wanting to have my own little surprise moments of discovery. And the blackberries seem to thrive in the heat of our summers.

1. My automatic watering system is no more, through no fault of its own. That’s because a hose-end system like mine is dependent on everything being super tight and tidy at the tap, but I never got it quite right and so, when I left the tap open — so the system could distribute the water — leaks abounded. I haven’t given up entirely, yet, as hubby promises he’ll “take a look” at this over the weekend. We will see!
2. I’m no longer making bread daily. Oh, if only it were possible. Honestly, my kids are nearly teenagers now and are much pickier about the size of their sandwich slices. It was a great experience and perhaps one I’ll incorporate into our lives again at some point.
3. My garden, however, is thriving. This year, we’ve got 3 raised beds on the go, and we’re working on: tomatoes (6-7 different varieties), Genovese basil, Thai basil, Japanese Eggplant, onions, sweet potatoes (mostly for the greens), cantaloupe, habanero and ghost peppers (not doing very well, sadly, but mostly growing them for the experience), and a little perennial herb section featuring sage, oregano, thyme and tarragon. Meanwhile, the blackberry bed is growing like gangbusters and the little peach tree is actually bearing 2 or 3 fruits.
4. The off-brand power-blender is still going strong, although I dropped the canister at some point and had to order a new one from the original seller. Worked like a charm, though, and was thrilled to find the original seller still on eBay!
5. The baby goats are now full grown and as ornery as you’d expect goats to be. They like to terrorize the dogs, especially a certain little one that has come to join our family recently. I haven’t yet bred our doe, Dulcinea, as I’ve not been ready to commit to a once- or twice-a-day milking schedule, but it’s still a possibility for the future. The short-term goal with the goats is to keep them from eating our house. Easier said than done!

And now, without further ado, some pics of some of the recent action hereabouts.