Wednesday Vignette: Starting to Bloom

I am often accused of being a positive person.

Today, a Master Gardener trainee in the answer clinic told me that I could find something positive to say about the dump. What she didn’t know, was that I was sitting there nervously waiting for a local reporter to come chat with me about an upcoming beneficial insect class in Camas. My hands were shaking and I kept putting them in my pockets to hide my nerves.

I had just stepped out of a meeting where we had assigned our first two volunteers to local school gardens as part of our new Garden Discovery program. This is the first small step after three plus months of brainstorming and planning how to provide more garden lessons to grade school students in Clark County. Next week, we’re building 10 lesson kits for our volunteers to check out and use in gardens. Change can be so painstakingly difficult.  

One of my gardening mentors has warned me that I will fail. Just like that. I flipped her off inside my rain jacket pocket as I listened to her try and rain on my parade. 

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star magnolia flower bud

I’m at a point in my life where I feel like the only thing that I can do to help our future generations is to teach adults and children how to be good stewards of our planet, vote, buy local, and to grow organic veggies. Public speaking scares me. Speaking to reporters scares me. But, I do it anyways. My Master Gardener badge makes me bold and courageous and forces me outside my comfort zone.

The interview with the reporter went well, even though I managed to forget the word neonicotinoids. Doh! I dashed into the answer clinic and the mg trainee was delighted that she remembered the term as we printed a handout for the reporter.  I could have hugged her.

Then I took the reporter out to the greenhouse for the photo shoot. My fellow volunteers playfully teased me as the reporter took my picture. “She’s going to be our local Cisco.” The reporter stared blankly back not understanding the reference. And just like it was over. I walked the reporter back to her car before I went back out to check on the milkweed in the greenhouse. They are thriving.

Now, I’m taking a week in my garden to recharge my batteries, before the next wave of presentations and classes. My life is beginning to bloom. I can feel it. Spring is here and I’m not afraid to fail. 

Don't forget to visit our Wednesday Vignette hostess, Anna at Flutter and Hum, to view all of the Wednesday Vignettes.

Trowel Flower Garden Art

Today, I picked up my completed Trowel Flowers from the Marshall Community Center where I've been taking pottery classes. I simply couldn't wait until tomorrow to pick them up! I carefully placed them on my car seat with the seat belt over them. Barnaby behaved and stayed in the backseat. Good dog!

Aren't they gaudy in a fun way?

And here are the trowel flowers tucked into the raised juniper bed on the back patio. So, what do you think of my beginner sculptures? And do you create art for your garden?

I've always wanted to take a pottery class and I'm so glad that I did. What classes are you putting off? 

Wednesday Vignette: Collapsed Flowers

The blooms on the Star Magnolia have flopped over, fully saturated from the rain. A wind storm is tousling the garden. And I feel like a crazy person, out photographing her collapsed flowers in the pouring rain. The Crony Brothers worry about me.

But, isn't this bloom simply marvelous?!?

All the flowers look like porcelain sculptures. I'm dazzled by their beauty and disarray. On Saturday mornings, I take a pottery class and I push a piece of clay around with my clumsy fingers attempting  to create sculptures. My sculptures are thick humble masses and make me appreciate the dazzling array of shapes and sizes of the plants in my garden, even the beauty of a rain soaked Star Magnolia blossom.

Anna's posting about the whole picture today.  Take a look and a deep breathe. 

Wednesday Vignette: Saying Goodbye

My Crazy Sadie, nicknamed The Assistant, crossed over the Rainbow Bridge, one month ago. She lived to a cranky ol' 13 1/2 years. We are all grieving her loss including Barnaby. 

From the first moment that I looked into her puppy eyes at the Humane Society, I was hers and she was mine. I named her Daisy, but she quickly earned the name Satan. I split the difference and renamed her Sadie. She was a trash sorting, plant throwing, and hole digging menace.

But she also kept me on time with my daily schedule and snuggled up against me and helped me heal from four knee and ankle surgeries. 

She adored bread and butter and would steal it off the counter when I wasn't looking. I never once caught her in the act. It simply disappeared. 

Sadie's favorite toy was the red laser. She would chase it around the whole yard while I laughed. It was a great party trick. Once she saw the red eye flash on my camera and from that point on she hunted the red light while I took pictures. The tip of her tail is in most of my back garden pictures.

One year, Sadie helped us with our Christmas pictures. If I set a camera timer, she was always in the way.

This shot captures Sadie's Corona beer smile. She adored a sip of cold beer on a hot summer afternoon. 

She had a wonderful last day. I allowed her to steal Barnaby's food, fed her 2 McDonald's cheeseburgers, snuggled with her, and baked her a butter cake. I even let her lick the butter wrapper. She snorted with delight as we fed her warm bites of butter cake. And she died in my arms, while being told she was a good girl. 

Sadie was my constant companion for 13 1/2 years. She helped me through surgeries, remodeling a Portland bungalow, a move, raising My Kid, holidays, parties, projects, countless cooking adventures, and helped me in my new garden. And she kept my toes warm whenever I sat at my computer. My toes are cold as I write this. I miss my friend. I'm so grateful for the time we spent together and for her patiently teaching Barnaby the basics like how to select a stick and chew on it. 

I am including this post in Anna's Wednesday Vignette meme. Stop on by and get inspired.

Wednesday Vignette: Cattails

Today after I stepped out of the greenhouse at Heritage Farm, I was struck by the beauty of the cattails in the afternoon sun. What is the saying?

Old gardeners never die, they just go to seed.

Please go visit Anna's new WV - in pursuit of grey and everyone else's contributions.