Pa-thet-ic

Caroline presented me this orchid for my birthday, four years ago.

Tiny thing, in a two inch pot.

We put it in one of Jan's little ceramic pots.

Marty Froehlik, an artist friend, made the little dragon fly pot.

The orchid grew and grew, and made more flower spikes every year.

In a while there obviously was no dirt left in the little pot,

so I bought a four inch pot and transplanted the orchid.

We fitted the plastic pot into another of Marty's pots.

The dragonfly pot had a fatal encounter with the cat who must know all.

Mother used to say, it wasn't the fall. It was the sudden stop.

The dragonfly pot became a lot of pieces.

And, the orchid kept on growing, and sending out spikes.

One even grew through the openwork of the pot.

The orchid is growing another new leaf this year.

Now, Marty is not an infamous potter, so I set EBay searching, searching for his pots.

I hoped to replace the dragon fly and find another Marty Froelick pot this size.

In one year I have found two pots.

One is the little purple pot on my windowsill.

And, one is a similar pot, but, smaller than the pot the orchid  occupies.

Today I had to make a last trip to the old house, and the pot on the right was sitting on the old mantle.

No, my sister did not want that pot. She wanted her pot.

So it goes.

The EBay search continues.

Done and undone

310 spring bulbs in today's mail.

We hoped for them last weekend, because of all the rain.

But, the ground is plenty damp, and it will rain a lot by Wednesday,

so in the ground they went.

Before supper and after.

I claim to have planted fifty,

but Laura says "maybe forty."

I decided to have no bird feeders here.

No place to really spread out.

Most of the birds seem to be sparrows.

Not that there aren't fifty kinds of sparrows.

Even when the chickadee sat in the pear tree,

and looked me straight in the eye.

In spite of all the mornings I've opened the door to a chickadee on the railing.

No feeders.

Then yesterday I looked out the back door window,

and there was a junco.

See how they're ganging up.

Laura is all in favor of bird feeder(s)!

We'll just rake up the hulls for mulch around the pear tree.

Just like we did at the old house.

Well, a trip to the bird feeder store is on the weekend agenda.

Life doesn't necessarily occur in sequence

New digs for Emily, Laura and me.

We're moving one road north, to a trailer community, not too euphemistically called Hudson Estates.

Laura remains in the Hudson school district; I remain the township fiscal officer.

"We've signed the lease," as Laura tells the world.

Our "Estate" passes muster for one granddaughter away in college and another who scored the master with the walk in closet. She cannot wait to furnish and cook in "her kitchen" either.

We have the keys, and have been in and out a few times. The interior needs a final clean, the accessory building is not yet on site, and the drive way has the frame laid, and probably will be poured next week.

Meanwhile, back in my other world, we had a long anticipated visit from Yamani.

She landed in the midst of the first week of the house on the market, and proved a very adaptable guest. Yam can sit out a house showing in the national park, soothing an irritated cat while learning more strategy for hearts, the card game. We shopped in Indian markets, and Laura added more culinary skills to her repertoire.

To her great delight, Yam arrived in the midst of the seventeen year cicada invasion, as they emerged mercilessly, cut the oak tree's bark to lay eggs, then flew off everywhere to die. We swept the walk and drive often, to lessen the impact on potential house buyers. 

Cicadas are more than the incessant, deafening screech of a million rasping wings. They damage mature trees and kill young trees. All those brown tips on the oak tree in June indicate severe damage to its capillary systems.

In better news, the pink and white mandevillas are doing beautifully.

The red mandevilla went on strike for a better spot, so it's been relocated to the porch for a go at reclamation.

Now I am going out to buy a statue of St. Joseph to bury in the front yard--upside down. 

Mandevillas and sandles

This morning Laura and I liberated these three mandevillas from the nursery.

We brought up the hanging basket frames from the laundry room, and got busy.

The white one.

The pink one.

Then we had to stop and sort out bird feeders, because the red mandevilla will go where the suet hung all winter.

Laura is in Becky Thatcher mode today.

A lot of red anemone on the red mandevilla end of the garden.

The female red bellied woodpecker landed on this pole, looking for her suet feeder.

She spotted it right across the stairwell, and flew right over.

Laura's sandles, as promised.

I understand Emily has an identical pair, but with green strapping.

As if all that criss-crossing was not enough,

there is a heel flap and really cool buckles.

I'm so pleased she is fourteen, and I'm not.

Late summer color

Next year all my hanging baskets will be mandavilla

Yellow, pink, white and scarlet.

And one hibiscus.

Their blooms trail everywhere.

Lamb's gerbera daisy suddenly began blooming, just like last year.

The August lily hosta.

The foxglove's last stalk.

A patch of maple leaves.

Goldenrod.

The tree at the pond. Its leaves are covering the surface of the water.

The golf course grass is so brown.

Must be like playing through shredded wheat.

Purple finch.

 And, a picture not worth putting up, except I captured the finch in a tree.

They generally have gone before I find them, let alone focus.

Up the hill and back again

I set out to take these pictures a week ago, and did take them last Friday.

But I've spent the week with the other pictures I took that day, too.

At last, the Garden Club ladies refurbished bridge and all their flower boxes.

Up the hill, east, and down the hill west.

This first box has flowers through and through.

Here's the side,

Here's the front.

And off we go.

A look over at the Towpath Trail, and the loads of stone where the path is undercut.

Back to flowers, the last box on this side of the bridge.

Still going west, at the top of the hill,

The guardrail between the sidewalk and the river gorge.

Last year the Garden Club ladies stashed their water jugs on the back side of the rail.

I didn't go rummaging back there. Spiders.

There is an apartment down there, under the old bank building, young couple, I think.

They certainly have outdone themselves with privacy foliage.

Ok, on the downhill side, going east.

Another through and through.

Its front.

Another through and through.

It's front.

I don't care much for either Dusty Pete or Coleus, 

but I like the tall grass.

Through and through.

The front.

Through the bridge.

The very green front. A minute pinkish bloom in there.

Love the red flower, and this long white flower.

If someone tells me their names,

they will go right on my list for the former lettuce tower, next summer.

Have a good and safe holiday weekend.

If you live in Canada, or Britain, or France, or Germany,

go ahead, take Monday off, too.

I'll send you a note to turn in Tuesday.