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Flowers in the brain

Northern Virginia weather has been throwing us a bone every few days, teasing us with great weather in between spurts of rain, letting us know that Spring is indeed here, and summer is just around the corner.

These last two days have been gorgeous.  And all I could think about were flowers.  But not the kind that one plants, because aside from these roses I was successful with at our Texas home, I am quite the black thumb.

I'm talking about the kind that's made with fabric.

So while Hubby might be planning on how to patch up a couple of areas in our cozy front yard, I am trying to figure out how many of these little clips I can make for my little girls.  And even for me.  And how I can add them to headbands, or to pins so I can put them on my favorite blue jean jacket

After, of course, I send these out to my giveaway winners.

It should be interesting to see how the fraying holds up with toddlers wearing them, but the only way to know is to work-em!

Hope you enjoy them, Ladies!  

A ripple in a pond

My eldest son, G, brought home a planter a couple of weeks ago from school.  He was diligent the first few days he had it, checking on it as it sat on our windowsill, making sure that there was enough moisture in his makeshift greenhouse.

As the days passed he stopped to check on it less and less; paying more attention to all of those fun kid things he loves to do.  He didn't mean to neglect it, but because it was out of his sight, he, simply, forgot.

Until yesterday...the children and I were at the table doing homework, and we started to talk about the hallmarks of spring - the warmer weather, daylight savings, soccer season, and time for planting....

...and he jumped out of his seat like a rocket and screamed, "omigosh! my plant!"

His poor little friend was shriveled up like a cooked bean, and he (my son) whimpered a little.  He went to the sink and gave his friend a drink and even spoke to it, then put it back on the windowsill.

This morning, his little plant was alive and well.

We talked about some lessons, that as an adult, I forget.

...that we cannot forget those things and people that aren't in front of us.

...that we can't take for granted that our surroundings will get better without our contribution.

...and that it's never too late to try.

 

Let's not forget our brothers and sisters across that actually very small pond, in Japan.  

Food Challenge: Apples

I have a black thumb.  

Except for an orchid my father entrusted in my care my senior year of college which I kept alive by my true measure of sheer desperation, and these roses I brought to life, I cannot keep anything alive enough to bear fruit.

It doesn't stop me from having grandiose ideas that if I had enough planting soil, that I could grow acres of a bountiful harvest.  That I can walk into my backyard and, simply, reach up and pick fruits from trees and pull veggies from the ground that will nourish and sustain me and my family.  Just as my grandmother had accomplished, and my father has in mediumture (vs miniature...because his garden is definitaly not small) in California.

Hubby, I know you must be laughing.  

Hubby, you must know, is the keeper of the flowers in our home.  And they flourish!  We are blessed with a small front and back yard in this home and he makes me love walking up to overflowing flowers.  Whatever he places on the ground seems to grow.  Me?  Not so much.

At least I can cook, right?

So, until I can figure out how to get the farm into my backyard, I will have to take my family to the farm.

We visited Marker Miller Orchards in Winchester, and I almost kissed the ground when I got there.

Apples are our favorite fruit.  And boy, were they bountiful.  I wanted to scoop them all up and bring them home and hoard it all in my kitchen.

In the words of my son, C, "I have been waiting 8 years to do this."  (He's 8 years old, by the way)  Doesn't that make us seem like great parents?  He's such a deprived little boy.

 

We took home a bushel of apples.  Which is the most of anything perishable I have ever had in my kitchen in queue to cook, so my heart began to race at the challenge ahead.  I'm sure my kiddos can snack good portion of what we picked but I bookmarked quite a few recipes to tackle in the next week.

 

Aren't they pretty?  I can hear them from downstairs calling my name.   

 

So, first up...Apple Pie Muffins!  Forget protein for breakfast, think of the energy from the sugar in the crumb topping.  And the nutrition from the sugar infused chunks of apple inside.  It's all good, baby.

Someone pass the coffee!

Happy 10/10/10!!!!

The first flush...

We had terrible technical difficulties shortly after I last posted.  It ended with both our computers being banned to the storage room until we can get a person we trust to take apart its pieces bit by bit and then put it all back together.  Both were already at its last legs this last month or so, but on April 2, I had one go up in smoke (literally), and the other completely incapable of navigating through the internet.

It was quite a shock not to have The Internets at the ready.  Sure, I had my trusty phone that can access the web, but really, a 2 x 2 screen just doesn't cut it.  I had to find other things to do besides visit my favorite blogs and write.  It was a very lonely first couple of days.   

Then I decided to pick myself out of my  helplessness and figure out this whole gardening thing, with the help of my Dad, who coached me on the phone and through emails I was able to access.

    

Yeah, who knew that this would happen?  I have spent all of my adult life proudly proclaiming that I was a black thumb, avoiding nurseries, bypass pruners and potting mix.  Never mind that my dad has flowers, trees, and fruit bursting from his backyard, boasting organically grown harvests.  

I think he was in total awe that I asked him to bring the plants in our home back to life.

When we moved here last year, I didn't even know that these roses existed, and nor did I search for previously planted treasures.  I treated all greenery as, well, bushes.  Eventually I thought that they would be nurtured by the sun and rain, right?  I was most concerned that we had grass for the children to play on, and by golly, it was mowed every 2 weeks.

  

Then, I saw a bud on one of these mangled bushes, and I suddenly realized that 1. These were flowers. 2. They are on my property. 3. So I should really take care of them.  

I was hesitant to get my hands dirty!  For a few days I didn't kneel on the ground, and I jumped at every sight of an earthworm or bug, and at every tug of a thorn.  But my dad's speeches on his spiritual connections with his plants got me through, and I found a link in common with him.  

Gardening is his craft.  And I made the decision to learn it.

And so a part time Rosarian I will eventually become (by organic methods, of course)...hopefully with much hands-on study, and my Dad at my side.