Where Troubles Melt . . . part deux

As you know, the "enchanted forest" is gone.  Gone with the wind - literally.  So months, and months, and months have passed since . . . I've been gone from here much too long.  Life got in the way.  Too many things to count.  Some scary and disheartening - mostly wonderful, though.

But I'm back - at least for today.  I have an urgent desire to chronicle how the "Wish Garden", which was destroyed in the 4-11 tornado, has re-emerged.  Different, to be sure.  But still good, although lacking in some the spiritual qualities that I held so dear.  And lacking in the privacy that gave me a haven from the world.  A good hobby, nonetheless - keeping me in the fresh air, giving me a purpose, and providing some much needed physical activity.  

During the storm cleanup, some treasures from the garden were found, and all of them have been re-used - even if cracked, broken, crooked or wobbly - I honor their survival.  The same is true for plants.  Some plants made it through all the bulldozers and backhoes, and broke ground this Spring as if nothing had happened.  Their survival teaches me faith - and their survival is honored as they are allowed to grow in their original positions - I'll design around them!

When I began, there was nothing - nothing - NOTHING except rocky, barren soil and the few trees that I've now used as the perimeter of the garden. All of this is new . . . all accomplished (by me - my hands - my physical labor!) in the last 4 months.

I designed the garden this time with an 'infinity' theme - if you could walk it with me, you'd see that the path around the entire garden is in the shape of an infinity symbol - and within that large symbol are smaller versions to be explored as well.  Plantings were all placed to ensure this design.  The long-term plan is to fill the pathways with beautiful pea shot gravel (crunchy under foot!), and have the shrubbery grow and fill in and provide privacy for secret corners to be discovered.  Someday . . .
Some of my ideas have been very successful, and others not so.  But I'm in danger of losing it all.  (Not a story for now . . . maybe another time)  So when I realized I hadn't documented all the work I've devoted to the project, I felt a sudden compulsion to be self-indulgent and commit it all to some kind of scrapbook . . . so here it is.  My views of the my special place this morning.  Welcome!

 

Thank you for visiting . . . I do hope you'll come again!

Remembering . . .

Serendipity!

ser·en·dip·i·ty  –noun

1. an aptitude for making desirable discoveries by accident.

2. good fortune; luck
 
While I'm not sure that the desirable discovery of today was because of my 'aptitude for making it happen', I definitely consider it my good fortune to have lucked into it!
 
It's a rainy Tuesday.  Very rainy.  So rainy that the tiny dry steam running through our front yard became a raging rapids mid-day.  I swear, I saw white water out my front door!
 

Anyway, on this very rainy Tuesday, Mom had an appointment with the hairdresser.  It always rains on her 'hairdo day', so it came as no surprise that we would have to trudge through the muck and muddle our way out and about.  Making the drive down the mountain and into Fort Payne is where the 'desirable discovery' occurred.  I saw it out of the corner of my eye as we passed, and I gasped in amazement, but said nothing as we were late, as usual, for our appointment.  And - I had a plan.  A plan to give Mom an experience I knew would delight and amuse her.  (Not so easy to do these days, I'm afraid!)

Leaving the hairdresser, I casually asked Mom if she'd like some hot chocolate and a cookie as a mid-afternoon snack.  One who loves food - especially sweets - she, of course was thrilled at my suggestion.  So off to the McDonald's drive-through (if you've not tried their hot chocolate, you must.  Even the non-fat-milk-no-whipped-cream version that I choose is muy delicioso!) we went. 

 

Two hot chocolates and three cookies in our grasp, I drove to the parking lot of a small local strip mall and went to the far end of the paved area, stopping the car at the guard rail facing the street below.  And there it was.

 

Across the busy street, straight ahead of us, was a tall wall of layered stone, reaching almost to the sky, it seemed.  It's there every day, of course, beautiful in Spring with fresh greenery and an Autumn glory of red and yellow.  But today it had been transformed into something I'd not known it to be before - a breathtaking, majestic, awe-inspiring waterfall!  From the tip-top of that wall of stone, all the way to the street below, a river was dancing down the rocky shear, as beautiful as any of the falls frequented by tourists to the area year-round.  Right in the middle of town!  It was marvelous!

 

As we sat in silence, sipping our hot chocolate and savoring our cookies, we celebrated the beauty of our life here in this land of defined seasons and varied elevations - and we celebrated serendipity!

Tribute

James Frederick Coleman
09/13/1949 - 11/08/1990

It was a Thursday, sometime around 7pm, when I got the call - and after 20 years I still don't have words for the emotions that moment spawned.  And after 20 years, those emotions surface more frequently than I am comfortable with.



 

Today, I watch this and think of you. 







We interrupt this blogpost to bring you "Eggs on the Ceiling"

So I spent about 30 minutes a bit earlier writing (what I thought were) all sorts of clever stories about our crazy Sand Mountain weather ("Autmer" or "Sumtumn"), the new "neigh"bor (pictured at right), and the seasonal visitor of yesterday (a migratory Least Sandpiper, pictured at left) when I was rudely interrupted by sounds coming from the kitchen that had me convinced the house had exploded.  Well, not quite.  But almost as bad.

I am known to be a bit ditzy, and forgetful, especially when I get focused on something other than what I should be focused on.  So I left a couple of eggs boiling on the stove while I ran to the computer just to check e-mail.  E-mail, then Facebook, then my favorite decorating and landscape blogs called.  Then inspiration hit for my above-mentioned blog entry, and the next thing I knew - BLAM!  Eggs on the ceiling!  And on the kitchen counters, the dining table, all three sections of the bay window blinds, not to mention the island cooktop and adjoining cabinetry.   (Who knew a couple of eggs could be so explosive?!  The pot lid actually bounced off the light fixture!  No joke!)

Thankfully HH is downstairs in the garage, happily oblivious to the stench that has filled the main house and the nice Revere Ware boiler I just destroyed.  And I won't worry, for now, that those were the last two eggs in the refrigerator 'til pay day and I'd promised tuna salad for lunch (yes, strangely, this family loves tuna salad - just plain water-packed tuna, with salt, pepper, mayonnaise and boiled EGGS.)  For now I'll worry about (quickly!) scraping egg off the ceiling and covering my moronic act with some other wonderful lunchtime treat for Handsome Hubby.

Do you think he'll go for cabbage?  That's the only thing I know that can out-stink burnt eggs!  Wish me luck . . .

Colorfesting 2010

Anticipation was high . . . weather was perfect . . . it was Colorfest time in Mentone, and I was on my way there!  Handsome Hubby and I set out early Saturday morning for our second Colorfest in as many years, and we were not disappointed.

Arriving, we were greeted by the Boy Scouts in khaki shorts and plaid kerchiefs who took their car-parking responsibilities very seriously.  As usual, Handsome Hubby wanted to tell the boys where and how we should park, but the stern-faced 12-year-old waved his arms most adamantly, pointing to a spot that he intended for us to occupy - no questions asked!  :-)  So we did.

The sky was cloudless and the sun bright, with temps around 50 when we arrived.  As we made our way from the parking 'lot' to the festival site on Cool Street, I stopped to take a photo (perhaps my 50th!) of the beautiful bottle tree that always catches my attention at the cute house just down from the corner.  Every time I snap a picture of it, HH teases me about how many dozen of the same I must already have.  But still I snap, declaring that "the sun is hitting the cobalt blue bottles in an especially pretty way today . . .differenct than ever before!"  Truth is, I keep hoping that HH will realize how much I covet that bottle tree, and will gift me with one sometime soon!


Ahead we catch a glimpse of the vendor tents lining the street - more than usual, we comment with delight.  The air is heavy with the smell of funnel cake, and HH is instantly interested.  Moving past the first several tents of arts, crafts, and fun stuff, we come to the first food vendor, and I immediately hone in on those wonderful ribbon fries that I drool over.  We agree, however, to check out the goods all the way down the street before returning to one for food and drink.  The music of the morning was good ole' gospel, sung enthusiastically by an older gentleman who stopped between songs to work at saving souls and promoting his church.  The two dozen plastic lawn chairs ringing the pavillion were about half filled - partly by toe-tapping, hand-clapping sing-alongers, and partly by people balancing hot dogs, chili-fries and cold sodas on their laps.

We note that many of the vendors are those we've seen here before, or at the Rhodendron Festival, or at Boom Days.  They all have most impressive fare, and we especially enjoy the new vendor who makes the most wonderful creatures from common patio pavers.  Cute, but not too cute - just clever enough that you'd actually consider putting one on your porch or giving one as a gift.  We walk along, noting that some of our favorites are not there this year, including . . . THE DEEP-FRIED OREO vendor.  He's NOT THERE!  How can this be?  Doesn't he know that I have waited an entire year for his decadent sweet treat?  Don't the festival organizers realize that without him there is no Colorfest?????  I'm grief-stricken.  I can barely breathe!  This is a disaster!

My throat is dry from despair, and HH insists that we stop for a drink.  While my usual would be the quart of iced tea, I prefer not to visit the port-a-potty that many times today, and decide to go for the strawberry lemonade.  The chalkboard leaning against the tree tells me that this selection will cost me $5, and I think "what a racket!" but order it anyway.  The smiling young girl who cheerfully squeezes the lemons and mixes the concoction like a seasoned bartender assures me, "you'll love it", and "my mom came up with this recipe", and I think, "yea, and you'll enjoy the $4.95 profit you've just taken me for".  She hands it over, complete with chunks of fresh strawberries and two straws, in a plastic cup hunky enough to require two hands to hold, and I take my first sip of HEAVEN!  Forget the deep-fried what were they?  This stuff is unbelievable . . . indescribable . . . amazing . . . knock your socks off and slap yo' mama DELICIOUS!!!!!  So you won't be too surprised that we dropped a cool $10 on those things that morning, making the deep-fried whatever-they-were a distant memory.  I'd found my new Colorfest love!

At the end of Cool Street we found our ever-present and all-time favorite vendor, Smith Nursery.  The selection of colors and textures they'd brought for the festival was outstanding, including the trellised magnolia, the likes of which I'd never seen.  People always buzz around their booth like hungry bees, and we decided not to purchase anything, lamenting the plants we already have at home, still waiting for the elusive (non-existant!) rainfall to soften the ground enough that we can actually bore a hole large enough to accommodate their root balls!  (We've actually used a drill to try to break the ground, and broken a very large drill bit in the attempt!)

Satisfied that we'd perused all the Cool Street vendors, we headed down to the main town intersection to browse through vintage jewelry, farmer's market produce, and funky painted signage before taking the self-guided tour of Mentone Springs Hotel.  Built in 1884, the facility is about to be re-opened by a fellow from Birmingham who told us excitedly of the plans, and clued us in that Ben and Moon, the duo responsible for the top-notch Wildflower Cafe in Mentone, will run the hotel's restaurant when it opens in a few weeks.  We enjoyed touring the guest rooms, since we've never stayed there, and I found the 'flower basket' headboard to be the most novel and photo-worthy.

As always, Colorfest gave us the best fun and most relaxation two folks can have in a two-hour time span, only minutes from home, with a $20 spending limit and comfortable walking shoes!  We'll be back next year - you can count on us!

Revenge of the bushy-tailed 'frienemy'!

Frienemy #1

Wow!  How hard to believe so many days have passed since my last post.  'Would love to say it's because I've been really busy, but . . . well, actually I have been really busy!  (Very enjoyable weekend with my daughters, celebrating beautiful Megan's 13th birthday, then having step-son as houseguest this week)

I finally allowed myself to come to terms with ripping the still-trying summer annuals from their dirt-y beds and replacing them with the seasonal offerings of the local garden center.  Tight budget meant that I was on the lookout for bargains - like the 50¢ garden mums at Walmart.  Although they were quite small, I convinced myself that buying lots of them and grouping them would be more penny-wise than paying the $4.64 they wanted for the larger ones.  After taking them home and doing the math, I realized that I'd not only bought myself more work than necessary, I spent more than necessary as well. 

And pansies.  I've been brainwashed by the garden center ads and the guy from Huntsville Botanical Garden who does a weekly segment on our ABC affiliate that pansies are the must-have plant for Northeast Alabama winters.  So I invested all I could scrounge - even robbing my change bucket - to buy pansies.  Beautiful pansies! 

I happily spent hours and hours on my knees talking encouragingly to them as I nestled their little dirt-covered roots into the ground, along with those bargain-priced mums and a smattering of small ornamental cabbage and kale.  As I dug, I was keenly aware of a squawking and barking high above my head.  It was my garden's resident squirrel.  My bushy-tailed frienemy.  The same one who ate my petunias all summer.  I should have known I was in for trouble!  As my garden spade parted the dirt, preparing to receive my beautiful new pansies, mums and cabbage/kale, I (too often) displaced a big fat hickory nut - much to the displeasure of my noisy buddy up in the tree.  He was none too happy that I was undoing all his nut-burying work, and was telling me about it in no uncertain terms.

Each time my spade unearthed a nut, I'd look up into the tree, apologize quite sincerely to the unhappy rodent, and would promise to place the nut back in its hiding place and position my plant elsewhere.  And I kept my promise - each time.  I completed my planting tasks, gave everything a good soaking (no rain here - at all - almost all summer - 13" below normal rainfall already this year) and stood back to admire the new Autumn dressing I'd given my garden.  I thought all was well. . .  until the next morning . . . when I returned excitedly to visit my new plant friends. . . only to find half of them out of the dirt and carelessly tossed aside! 

After calming myself and determining that I wouldn't let my bushy-tailed frienemy get the better of me, I cheerily placed the abused little plants back into their dirt-y holes and assured them things would be okay.  Until the next morning.  And so it has been every morning for the past week . . . I plant, and the squirrel digs.  Repeatedly.  And the pansies he's not digging up, he's eating.  Eating the blooms, leaving the stalks sticking up in the air like a garden of bamboo kabob skewers!

Handsome Hubby suggested littering the garden beds with moth balls.  But since the tea olive have just begun to bloom, and I've waited all summer for that fragrance, I said "thanks, but no thanks".  Then he suggested red pepper around the base of the plants.  He assured me the squirrel wouldn't like the red pepper.  Wrong.  The squirrel may not like the red pepper, but he doesn't seem to mind it, either.  He's so mad with me that I don't think steel mulch in the beds would deter him from exacting his revenge!

Tomorrow I'll shop for a yard of white fabric to make my "surrender" flag.