compost in my shoe

Compostinmyshoe Re-emerges

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Wed, 30 May 2012 02:17:00 +0000

I've missed you. I hope you've missed me.

It all started in July 2011. An idea morphed into a possible direction. When it came together, Compostinmyshoe LLC emerged as a new business venture. Transitions keep us creative.

I'm one of those lucky ones who's been doing what he loved for 25 years and counting. You will find the ideals, philosophy and plans for Compostinmyshoe feels like a new direction. In essence, it is coming full circle, dirty, organic, earthy.

Over the last three years, this blog became a big part of my everyday life. The ideas, the writing and the photography kept me moving. Those of you who do it regularly know it isn't easy. It takes time. It takes dedication to details. It is worth it in so many ways.

I've met a whole new community, one that is interesting, wonderful and rich with creative people who share a tiny part of their life with us with regularity.

Please join me in celebrating the beginning of something that is the next 20 years and beyond. A new day, a new place for compostinmyshoe to blog. Please join me there. compostinmyshoe's blog

After all, isn't it all about where the shoe touches the earth.

Peter Piper Misses the Party

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 21:50:00 +0000

They were planted in late April. What was once a few plants quickly became an impenetrable forest. Soon, picking occurred primarily along the forest edge. One could never be sure exactly what might be happening in the inner sanctum of Pepperland. Until a few days ago.

(Center-Cayenne, top center going clockwise- Chocolate Habanero, Thai Hot, Purple Beauty, Sweet Banana, Golden Orange Habanero, California Wonder)

They had to go. The space was needed for cool season vegetables waiting patiently for a home. The roots had formed a network entwined, a mat resistant to my pull. They did not want to go.

In the end they succumb to brute strength. Their beauty displayed here as a testament to the power of the pepper.

November Transplants

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Fri, 25 Nov 2011 11:59:00 +0000

Open ground in November presents opportunities that will unlikely be met when looking around at the obvious spots. The big box stores ceased providing any vegetable and herb transplants in early October, leading me to believe that our buying habits are being dictated by people who see snow fall.

Praise in spades for the sights at Sea Island Savory Herb Farm, a local grower, who understands that living in the south means the urban farm is a busy place right now. The warm fall can take credit for a cornucopia of cool season crops waiting to be harvested. Once they come out, something needs to fill the gap.

Danielle, the lead grower, spouted off a nice selection to choose from when I made the call this past Wednesday. Nothing excites me more than the possibilities that rest in a tray of transplants ready for planting. It was a feast. I had to behave. Well, I tried anyway.........

Nothing to Sneeze At

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 19:32:00 +0000

I planted five heleniums in the driest spot near the road. Commonly known as sneezeweed, their role would be limited to a pretty fall filler just in time for a garden tour coming through that weekend. I'd given them a few weeks to live. We've had a dry fall. Being out of town during the pampering period would surely lead to prolonged wilt and certain death.

To my surprise, they rooted without difficulty.

The catalog pictures always reminded me of something more apt to inhabit a Brit's backyard or maybe a Chicago public park. I wanted to be wrong. The developing flowers were a great texture against the season's grasses and salvias blooming alongside these new additions.

Two and a half months later, the color is just beginning to fade. I want it to be my new favorite perennial.

It certainly provided the insect populations with something delectable. Not a day went by that the consistent hum wasn't filling the air above the pincushion flower heads. The color is eye popping from near and far and pulled me back to them throughout the bloom time.

While it won't take long to see if they recover from those tricky dreary days ahead, I am contemplating a rot. Prove me wrong.

Dangerous Nuts

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Wed, 09 Nov 2011 22:54:00 +0000

New leaves emerged, followed by the flush that brings catkins whirling to the surface. The yellow covering below eluded to a heavy year, rightly so since the previous was of little consequence when considering the lack of home grown pecans going into the chocolate turtles made on site.

It wasn't long into the summer when the limbs began to weep with the developing crop.

Over the next few months the eerie sound of creaking branches followed by a pop became the norm. Man and dog cowered when approaching the tree line, uncertain when yet another would swiftly plunge downward, leaving flora bruised and decapitated.

A costly trim, while giving us courage to walk below the single specimen, did nothing to calm the drop that continued.

The harvest is bittersweet. While buckets are filled, it is minor in comparison to the crop drug undeveloped to the street. It was a constant reminder of our effect on the landscape. I have to take some credit for the slow summer destruction. Rich soil, generous water and sweet talk made it easy to be that vivacious.

I will never look at pecan pie the same way.

A European Approach

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 08 Oct 2011 17:07:00 +0000

Wired armatures are attached in a long glass elongated cube.

October came fast and furious. What once seemed far on the horizon is now here. 5 days with one of Europe's most talented floral artists, Tomas De Bruyne, promises to challenge the way craft interacts with creativity. The program-Part 1:European Master Certification Program

I've been helping out in the design room, assisting the last two days. Creating the structure takes time and patience. You want to please. "Am I doing this right?" His approach is a gentle. With that being said, expect to repeat tasks until they meet expectations.

More to come with what we called the straw sausages.

Tomas says, "Floral design is the art of transforming emotions into an arrangement. It is the combination of material knowledge, styling and craftsmanship that results in a work of art."

His approach is methodical. As a class we all had a difficult time paring down our own inner expectation to satisfy the assignment as given. But it is only day one.

The beginning of a bouquet.

At the end of the day, it was refreshing to see all the clutter moved aside. Symmetrical and asymmetrical, that is the question.

No, I Don't Feel Cool

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Wed, 07 Sep 2011 16:31:00 +0000

They were all gathered around talking about white. Should we wear it, shouldn't we wear it. "Well, I've heard it doesn't matter after Labor Day anymore. You can wear white anytime," commented one guest as though she had just arrived from Milan, fashion rules clutched to her chest. In the larger sense it was about fall's arrival. And even though it was hot and muggy, sweat pooling in little droplets as we sat overlooking the James Island marsh, there was some general belief that fall had arrived.

So we pretend. I walked through the King Street shopping district yesterday with temperatures hovering around 93 degrees only to find sweaters. What's good for a NYC boutique is good enough to wrap a Charleston mannequin, complete with a wool scarf in early September. I felt sorry for her. She looked so out of place considering most stared at her with light weight Lycra and open toed shoes.

Fall used to come with a redish tint to sugar maple leaves and the wide angled view of a pumpkin field, crinkled brown leaves exposing bright orange orbs. The mornings were cool. The evenings carried the heavy smells of herbal natives mixing, settling in translucent clouds at face level.

Today as I gazed out over the garden, I see American beautyberry attempting to fool the rest of my senses by filling my sight with deepening color. "Don't you even try," I say, as a stifling, hot breeze reminds me of my place on earth.

I want it just like the next person. But it isn't here, so stop asking me how my summer went, as though its over.

An Indi Oasis

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 30 Aug 2011 13:08:00 +0000

An early morning visit turned out to be the highlight of the recent Garden Writers Association conference in Indianapolis, IN. The cool persistent breeze eluded to traces of a fall morning, smells that I recognized growing up in these parts. Morning dew saturated hiking boots as I traipsed through green grass exploring the gardens. Golden sunshine made back lit magic throughout the many floral collections spread out on 152 acres.

The gardens surrounding the Indianapolis Museum of Art are a shimmering emerald. This is the oasis that every city needs when escaping concrete and steel. And while there was no way to see it all in the few short hours, I was convinced to schedule the return visit next time around.

August, on top of a long hard drought has not been kind when looking at the overall landscapes in Indianapolis. Brown replaces green. I did not feel the effects wandering through these gardens, a testament to the care given by garden staff and volunteers.

The rough stone rectangles funnel the gushing water into the basin below making the museum entrance fountain an exciting sensory experience.

A bald cypress, Taxodium distichum, flanks the entrance to the contemporary steel museum structure.

A closeup of Dionysus, Greek God of Wine, flanks a garden entrance.

The view into the Formal Garden as the morning light begins to peek over the forest edge.

Bused Into the Bronx

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Mon, 22 Aug 2011 14:21:00 +0000

A community farm surrounded on all sides by transit. Buses, cars and trains provide an urban hum while the gardens are tended by locals at La Finca Del Sur.

Like kids on a school day, we were shuffled into yellow buses. With knees gouging the seat in front, I imagined the days when fitting comfortably in this tiny space might have been possible.

Today's field trip was being organized by the American Community Gardening Association as a part of the 32nd Annual Conference being held at Columbia University's Manhattan campus. Our assignment would bring us to the Bronx. I'd never been there, so the idea of traipsing on new ground looking at their community gardens peaked my interest. There were amazing things happening in challenging situations. The people we met had vision, believed in the power of their communities and realized that the garden could make it all happen.

Rainwater collection systems were the norm at almost all the sites we visited. Notice how the roof is tied into the gutter and runs through pipes to the collection tank.

A Tats Cru mural colors a small community garden as a part of The Point, a community youth development center in the South Bronx. The mural is one of many as this is also Tats Cru's headquarters.

Most gardens get their city water from a hydrant on the street.

A conference participant eyes a plot through the decorative enclosure.

The garden oasis known as El Flamboyan Community Garden has many different nationalities represented, making it a melting pot for interesting growing techniques and vegetable varieties. All were surrounded by neighborhood highrise housing.

Bees and chickens were found in several gardens. Barriers were not used to keep anyone away from the bee hives. Local children's groups assisted in monitoring the hive activity and harvesting honey. We were told fruit tree production had escalated since the bees were introduced into the garden.

Transformed

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 16 Aug 2011 01:50:00 +0000

It all seems to happen behind closed doors. While I know something is causing this pile of green to shrink, the transformation happens silently. A grin, a smile, a cough and the calendar slides wildly.

One day, I look down and the deed is done. Pitchfork in hand, it is moved to make room for former greatness. Old tomato vines, having succumbed to the southern sting, provide no more relief to summer's grave predicament. Time demands change. I remove. The wheelbarrow must be emptied. Dark, spongy, fluffed remains are shoveled inward, fragmented memories of what might have been in these beds a season ago.

It does not smell of the rot that existed but quickly disappeared. And while a slight hesitation at the subtle glimses of egg shell and rotting hay might have cause me to delay, I scooped it up as if to hold a newborn, looking in wonderment as to what might come next.

Call of the Wild

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 02 Aug 2011 02:24:00 +0000

It had been almost twelve years since I walked amongst the two legged animals in their man-made habitat. Streams of popcorn, left behind as if Hansel and Gretal might need to find their way back home, littered the asphalt sidewalks. Cotton candy stained pre-pubic chins could be seen taunting helpless reptiles behind glass. Mothers congregated freely, discussing indiscretions as they rocked newborns back and forth.

The sights, smells and sounds are now flashbacks to a career long since forgotten. Like all those bad Christmas gatherings I vowed to never revisit, here I stand. The little monkey on my shoulder says, "Don't go there." But I did.

And while I could have done without all the screaming children being coached by parents with Bad Parent Behavior Disorder or the mechanical tyrannosaurus rex loudly screaming in the background with metal twitches in his gasping grin, I'm glad I did.

This place does justice to a Zoo Horticulturist's past.

It is an art form turning an image, gunite, soil and plants into a seamless window into someone's far away world. For most roaming this unique setting, the details are invisible. They cannot elude me.

If I had a trained eye, I might look for the mechanics, something that tells me this place is not really a tropical rainforest. Like a jaded food critic, I search for electrical wire, exhibit doors and animal feeding bowls. Good luck on finding them here.

If I was a beast, I'd come here on vacation.

If in Seattle, WA visit the Woodland Park Zoo.

Maria Would Have Been Singing

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 23:02:00 +0000

A sun soaked day met the group from the Northwest Horticultural Society as they made their way up the pot holed stretch of dirt road. Today's journey would take us to the Tucquala Meadows, renowned for its unique flora. Located in the Upper Cle River Valley, with glacial snow- melted water flowing through beautiful waterways, I couldn't help but feel luck to be asked on the trip.

Daniel Mount, a botanist, garden designer and garden blogger (danielmountgardens), led the group. His duties among other things would be to point out the different plants as we came across them in the fields. I recently met Daniel in Seattle days before he invited me to join the tour at the recently held Seattle Garden Bloggers Fling. We have been following each other's blogs for a few years so it was great to finally meet.

The vast expanses of wildflowers, regal views onto the mountain ranges and the the overabundance of breeze filled fresh air made it the favorite of this trip to Seattle.

Many thanks to the NHS group for making a southern boy feel at home in such a cool and refreshing place! Did I say really cool, ya'll!

The Columbia Lily, Lilium columbianum, could be seen dotting the meadows with brown freckled yellowish orange petals back lit with the afternoon sun.

Daniel and the NHS group hover closely keying out species with the immense snow covered mountains as their backdrop.

The Suksdorf Paintbrush, Castilleja suksdorfi, was by far the most brilliantly colored feature amongst all the meadow wildflowers seen that day.

The wettest part of the meadow produced plants three times taller than those growing in drier spots. In the background is Cathedral Rock.

I Hate Saying Goodbye

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 26 Jul 2011 14:12:00 +0000

The girls pine for the perfect shot while admiring the bright red Monarda in the Bellevue Botanical Garden

The Seattle Garden Bloogers Fling ended like they all do. Business cards are exchanged. Open arms lead to heartfelt hugs. We tell each other how great it was seeing you again.

But best of all, I don't have to say goodbye.

Not only do I not have to say it, more likely than not, it just wouldn't make much sense.

We're all garden bloggers. All gardeners. All computer competent. And all enjoy talking about it.

Posting keeps us connected.

Comments remind us that someone will talk back.

And it happens more than once a year.

A beautiful bouquet is made while visiting the West Seattle Farmers Market.

Locally grown produce from farms in the area shows the variety Seattle has to offer.

A sitting area designed with reclaimed items in Lorene Edwards Forkner's garden. Check out here new book called Handmade Garden Projects coming out soon!

Purple is taken to new heights in this composition at the Farley garden.

The Olympic Sculpture Park is beautifully sighted on the banks overlooking Puget Sound. This is Bunyon's Chess by Mark di Suvero.

One of the areas most phenomenal gardens, The Bloedel Reserve is located on Bainbridge Island.

The cool, moist conditions foster layers of moss to grow on anything sedentary throughout the acres of natural land at The Bloedel Reserve.

Dragonfly Farms is a display garden and retail plant nursery located on Bainbridge Island.

The egg-like sculptures are just one of many different pieces of art displayed in the Dragonfly Farms gardens.

An arbor made from chain seems to be magically floating.

Keeping Up

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 23 Jul 2011 03:28:00 +0000

It is now hours before my arrival in Seattle for this year's Garden Blogger's Fling 2011 meet up. I'm late and I hate it........I couldn't find a decent flight out on Friday evening, so here I am swooping in mid-stream.

Seems like a lot of that going on these days. Time is not behaving.

Flowers are being pollinated by the expanding community of bees in our backyard and the produce is quadrupling. Tomatoes are everywhere. There are not enough canning hours in the day.

Foliage is overtaking the garden pathways and I'm a slacker in the eyes of fellow gardeners who have heard me talk about the horror of things touching.

False nettle has turned my dreams into nightmares.

All the while Mary Ann, one of our Garden Bogger hosts and author of her blog, Gardens of the Wild, Wild West is patiently waiting on the tarmac at Sea-Tac to meet with me about my progress on southern zones 8-10 plant combos for her recently unveiled Garden Logic site. It helps gardeners come up with plant combinations that relate to color, season, height and zone. She asked me to help with my region months ago. I've been working on it Mary Ann....have mercy!!!!

While I'm still trying to work on a blog post describing my recent floral experience in San Francisco at Imagine, weeks have passed since my last post. Its a gridlock. Soon I will walk amongst enthusiastic garden bloggers who will most likely smile and nod, wondering secretly why compostinmyshoe.blogspot.com is so lame.

I'd make an excuse but it is just too hot.

They say its cool in Seattle. In a few hours I will know for sure.

Imagine the Possibilities

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Wed, 06 Jul 2011 05:00:00 +0000

The color alone is mesmerizing. These small vases have the festive look that can add drama to any floral arrangement.

I took a break from the design room to attend what ends up being one of the favorite events of every AIFD symposium, the Partners Expo. We get an opportunity to see the newest cut flower, live plants, containers and accessories. This is the stuff that will make its way into the marketplace because of the people coming to this event and seeing it used in creative ways.

I get pumped because of all the cool things seen when scouring the room. Motor is reeving! Imagine what comes next!

Orange anthuriums create a playful look with the pink sticks tied into the arrangement.

These cone gingers are the ultimate in texture.

Succulents are still so hot in the floral world. Nature's burgundy tipping is seen in this floral design.

Simple can be so elegant. A single flower rests on top of green sand.

Finding Grubb

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 02 Jul 2011 17:02:00 +0000

You can get there on the "T" train. Expect to hoof it when they drop you off. And while I walked through sections of town that aren't in the travel brochures, it felt like an oasis when I finally arrived.

Flora Grubb Gardens is what we all wish we had in our town; chic, sexy, colorful with a slight coating of fairy dust. (Well, maybe a few inches.)

There were squeals at every turn. Not by me of course, by real customers. I controlled my excitement, snapping pictures as I quietly weaved my way through the elaborate floral wonderland.

I expected to get nasty looks, as if I each click was another idea stolen. This place is surly accustomed to having the plant paparazzi around and as such, I was left alone.

After an hour of gawking, I realized it was a smart move to have taken the train. Arriving in a car, would have meant needing a plane to get it all home.

The textures of the Tillandsias played well against the old bicycle hanging at eye level. This is just one of many ways bromeliads were used creatively, showing off their versatility as garden plants.

"Can I sit in the plum colored one? How does it go with my skin tones?", he asked, sipping his latte and gazing onto the eyes of his 42 year old sugar daddy.

A little pave fun with the succulents.

The height of this Woolly Pocket wall was impressive. I looked for the water system, but saw none. Great job hiding those mechanics! I'd hate to be the one picking off the yellow foliage at the top.

See what happens when the redneck cousin gets the dusting. This bog planting is the perfect size for the urbanite tight on space.

They must have rolled this one in from one street over, making it a showpiece hidden from sight until finding it on the back wall.

Turning Up the Heat

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 25 Jun 2011 17:22:00 +0000

Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye sang it best in "White Christmas":

“We’re having a heat wave,
A tropical heat wave,
The temperature’s rising,
It isn’t surprising,
[We] certainly can can-can.”

100+ degree temps followed with steam-drenched air seem the right place for intense color and tropical display. Could it get any hotter out there?

Need to cool down..........

Building Up

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Sat, 18 Jun 2011 17:10:00 +0000

Today marks the two month honeymoon for me and the girls. It hasn't gone exactly as planned. Within days of installing the first two hives, one group decided they weren't having the new digs.

Bees congregated on the outside of the hive so thickly that the color of the hive in places was just black. The wake up call next morning yielded nothing more than empty chambers with the sound of my voice echoing, "What happened?"

To add insult to injury, the veggie garden was covered in bee poop, apparently their way of giving me many middle fingers on the way out.

After finding another package of bees three weeks later, I reinstalled in the empty hive and stood back. Everything was fine until a month later when I removed the sugar water for the day so I could clean the top feeder.

So much for home sweet home. The sound of silence returned once more to hive #2.

When the disappointment dissipated, I decided to focused on hive #1. Today, they seem robust and building in numbers.

All 8 frames are filled with brood, pollen or honey. Hive beetles, the nemesis to the colony were found in small numbers. I crunched, squished and mashed the black beetles as they scampered away from the bees who were chasing them around the condo.

To celebrate two months, I've added on. A small brood chamber was installed to allow them a little bit more growing room. No honey for the humans yet. This is about the girls.

My fingers are crossed. Will they will like the new curtains?

(Thanks to David for taking the photos!)

A Cup to Quench My Thirst

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 14 Jun 2011 20:32:00 +0000

While multiple sources give easy access to the thirsty bees, the water filled bromeliad cups seem to be the favorite. The hottest time of day sees frantic efforts to gather water. The tropical grouping looks alive with bees landing on the colorful foliage, disappearing amongst the leaf spacing. Darting back and forth gives the appearance that something wonderful exists in these heat loving rosettes.

This poolside activity isn't appreciated by all guests bathing in the afternoon sun. "No swatting please.", I say. "They aren't interested in you. They have a job to do!"

While there are bromeliad groupings positioned throughout the garden, those in full sun seem to be the most popular. As for favorite species, the Neoregelias, in my unscientific observation, seem like the winners. The broad cups give plenty of surface space for them to walk right up to the water's edge.

Waiting for Silk

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Mon, 06 Jun 2011 22:12:00 +0000

The crinkled seeds rest comfortably in my palm's center. The kernels, tough and dry, do not look as though they might amount to much.

I never cease to be amazed by the single shoot. They sprout overnight, pushing anything to the side, making way for fresh air. This can't be without effort.

They wobble during adolescence, leaning awkwardly toward the sun. The wind and rain toy with them and I worry they might not make it. I've had my eye on them twice a day, every day, cheering them upward.

It's doubtful they need me to fret. Slender stalks attain girth, parallel leaves outstretching beyond boundaries. Living weather vanes powder the landscape. Dusty lust mingles with blushed silk below.

The pregnant pause is short lived as ears fill, sheathed in the glow of green satin.

What Would Mother Nature Say

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 31 May 2011 20:32:00 +0000

Billy with Strawberry A

Billy with Strawberry B

(Can you tell which one has been unnaturally enhanced?)

If Mother Nature sat beside Billy and eyed Strawberry A, she would surely clutch her pearls and exclaim, "It just isn't natural."

This is exactly what I said, peering down into the plastic serving cup, seeing the monster fruit squish the faces of the grapes and pineapple against the sides like children pressing their lips to the inside backseat car windows. They all looked embarrassingly uncomfortable as though the bully had them pinned down in a fist fight.

It wasn't until the first fruit filled out in late spring that I had something to compare. My biggest is three times smaller.

"How do they get them so big?," you ask. I can't answer that from experience, but my guess is enhancements come in the form of synthetic fertilizers, force fed until they are about to bust. Unblemished skin means a bug-free zone blasted with pesticides when anything resembling an insect gets within arms length.

My home grown "whopper" on the other hand feasted on compost and worm juice. It isn't so pretty, perfect or overly plump. But it is tangy, flavor filled and smells sweet before it touches the lips.

Take a bite of the big boy and tell me what you taste.

The Tiki Torch Lives

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Thu, 26 May 2011 02:07:00 +0000

So they returned, well sort of. Of the seven Echinacea Big Sky Tiki Torch I loaded into the buggy described in "Fatal Attraction to Coneflowers" June 28, 2010, three returned. Not the most exciting return on my investment. They started flowering last week, so I have had time to appreciate the ones still alive, but question the original thinking that these genetically modified cone heads might not like it in the south.

Up the road a few miles from here, in a quiet little subdivision in West Ashley, a good friend succumbed to temptation on a hot June day in 2010 at about the same exact moment I did, only in the big box store on his side of town. He also planted seven. I was over in his garden the other day and to my surprise, all seven of his returned. Now I know what you're thinking, "Talented gardener, that boy with seven Tiki Torch's in full bloom." Well, you're right, he is......but.....

After vocalized disgust and happiness simultaneously at his good fortune, I had to do some soul searching to come up with possible circumstances warranting his overwhelming success and my lackluster returns.

He never worries about the garden being to wet. In fact, he fusses the garden is always a little too dry. While both plantings had full sun, mine were subject to wetter winter months considering we are steps away from marsh conditions. Not a problem where he gardens.

Lesson learned. Just because it won't grow where you are doesn't mean it won't grow there, well at least somewhere else near by.

Multiple growing sites in the same 25 mile radius is the best way to gauge what will and won't grow.

And above all, make sure you enjoy the three that flowered. It sure beats whining about the four that rotted in the ground.

Surprised Return

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Mon, 23 May 2011 15:08:00 +0000

The burgundy-red midrib should be a clue to the species of Curcuma unfolding at a snail's pace.

Curcuma flowers are a first for this 4 year old plant.

It is within the last few weeks that the tropical pallet leveled to the ground with winter's icy cold breath have begun resurfacing. I'm not one for surprises, but each day tiny shots remind me of what lies below.

If anything, large dog paws and sleeping cats have me a bit uptight. Could you lounge a little to your left please as that alocasia tries to poke up through your black fur?

Did I mention the garden hose has assumed the role of a 200lb snake, snapping anything tender and green in its overzealous periphery.

Newborns are scattered about the garden in mass.

These are delicate times in a dangerous world.

Grow faster!

Hanging Fun

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Thu, 12 May 2011 01:29:00 +0000

Someone "proper" recently proclaimed these to be, "Vulgar in their use of color." I wasn't sure how to take that so I looked the word up just to make sure I knew what she meant.

"Lacking sophistication or good taste; unrefined."

Spray paint, unrefined? So it wasn't Huayi, DeVaul, or G&R Paints. The tips on the cans I use clog often. Look too closely and you might see some runs. I'm no Vincent, Georgia or Salvador, but I think they might appreciate me trying.

Certainly doesn't say anything about the fun I had taking a boring, brown and black big box special and transforming it into a show of creative craftiness. Yes, I know someone with better breeding then I could do something sophisticated and tasteful, I just couldn't come up with that slant.

So I dare you to dream up "vulgar". Worry less about what "she" might say, play with a color you've never thought of using and above all have some fun.

And don't forget to share.

Dyckia's Temptation

noreply@blogger.com (compost in my shoe) — Tue, 10 May 2011 02:39:00 +0000

There is something deliciously seductive about a dyckia. Dangerous and misunderstood, they lay quietly. In an instant stalks erupt from prickly foliage, soon to reveal a surprising meal for many.

And although I was not invited to the banquet, it seemed as though everyone else in the neighborhood heard the dinner bell.

It looks like a party. Ants scurry up and down, lapping up spilled nectar cocktails. Black wasps circle the floor, lighting unexpectedly wherever they see a morsel not being woofed down by nearby flies. Like loud, obnoxious prom queens, bumblebees take center stage, ignoring others looking at them with contempt.

All this love for the ugly duckling with the 7' spikes.