tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77780349641113523932014-07-24T12:09:16.165-07:00Amateur Bot-ann-istAnn Amato-Zorichnoreply@blogger.comBlogger361125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-72387406499086325432014-06-25T11:41:00.002-07:002014-06-25T11:41:33.463-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Regrowing Backbone <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uYladmsp7I4/U6sTSZfIqaI/AAAAAAAAHz8/EbFLBiahGR8/s1600/IMG_2790.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uYladmsp7I4/U6sTSZfIqaI/AAAAAAAAHz8/EbFLBiahGR8/s1600/IMG_2790.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dianthus superbus</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-46_qAWQqrPc/U6sTqIr52nI/AAAAAAAAH0Y/pjKTzw27fr0/s1600/IMG_2798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-46_qAWQqrPc/U6sTqIr52nI/AAAAAAAAH0Y/pjKTzw27fr0/s1600/IMG_2798.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cow Parsnip, <i>Heracleum maximum</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3A66xhZgEso/U6sTSLFa14I/AAAAAAAAHz4/7yEWOj7SrGc/s1600/IMG_2805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3A66xhZgEso/U6sTSLFa14I/AAAAAAAAHz4/7yEWOj7SrGc/s1600/IMG_2805.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cow Parsnip, <i>Heracleum maximum</i>, as "whisk".</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oa0ODs-fZ2E/U6sTiJNHDyI/AAAAAAAAH0I/KDBIicuV0gQ/s1600/IMG_6697.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oa0ODs-fZ2E/U6sTiJNHDyI/AAAAAAAAH0I/KDBIicuV0gQ/s1600/IMG_6697.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Stylophorum lasiocarpum.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IffMcuvh-qk/U6sTlnSFQhI/AAAAAAAAH0Q/3Ptqpi6TGzw/s1600/IMG_6700.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IffMcuvh-qk/U6sTlnSFQhI/AAAAAAAAH0Q/3Ptqpi6TGzw/s1600/IMG_6700.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Campanula punctata</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMvJpAHNu_c/U6sUDyvK5UI/AAAAAAAAH0k/ztZHWE-GcWE/s1600/IMG_6706.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KMvJpAHNu_c/U6sUDyvK5UI/AAAAAAAAH0k/ztZHWE-GcWE/s1600/IMG_6706.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The willow arbor gets a serious makeover. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U35tiDsPSQE/U6sUDvgH_xI/AAAAAAAAH0g/J_-XGbwhH1c/s1600/IMG_6766.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U35tiDsPSQE/U6sUDvgH_xI/AAAAAAAAH0g/J_-XGbwhH1c/s1600/IMG_6766.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where's the fire? Smoke tree, <i>Cotinus</i>, with <i>Lychnis coronaria</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6RK6dV8WPs/U6sUM_dk86I/AAAAAAAAH0w/f-LiFjyZiCA/s1600/IMG_6778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-s6RK6dV8WPs/U6sUM_dk86I/AAAAAAAAH0w/f-LiFjyZiCA/s1600/IMG_6778.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Centaurea montana</i>. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qT3Y8JeCBok/U6sUi_cvbtI/AAAAAAAAH04/O0ojmB08Lq8/s1600/IMG_6791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qT3Y8JeCBok/U6sUi_cvbtI/AAAAAAAAH04/O0ojmB08Lq8/s1600/IMG_6791.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yucca filamentosa.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QX9GLGryuAY/U6sU4Gn-9iI/AAAAAAAAH1A/06jv-5E5MqQ/s1600/IMG_6800.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QX9GLGryuAY/U6sU4Gn-9iI/AAAAAAAAH1A/06jv-5E5MqQ/s1600/IMG_6800.JPG" height="87" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still working on the backbone of the garden. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-44835284083177766192014-06-15T22:43:00.000-07:002014-06-16T18:57:35.197-07:00The Fragile Spine: The Gardener's Nemesis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>I'm <i>baaaaack</i> and feeling better than the last time I was here. Who knew that what this girl needed was a quick back surgery?<br /><br />I certainly didn't see that one coming!<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span><br /><h1 class="title" id="page-title" style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma; font-size: 1.6em; font-weight: bold; font: inherit; letter-spacing: -0.05em; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; outline-color: initial; outline-style: initial; outline-width: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span></h1><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, verdana, tahoma; font-size: 13px; line-height: 19px;"></span>It all started just after I <a href="http://seedcollector.blogspot.com/2014/05/wordless-wednesday-walking-to-see-ill.html">walked to see my ill friend</a> in my last post. I'd seen my doctor the day before and she'd scheduled an MRI for me. That Friday I went in, had the scan done, and then we waited until Monday. At the worst, I was expecting a cortisone shot or some pain medications and rest. But then she called and told me I needed to see a neurosurgeon. Wha!?! She explained that the scan showed some bulging and other irregularities and she hoped I could get in to see the specialist soon.<br /><br />I waited through another long weekend. I'd made an appointment for early Monday morning and honestly I was curious about what was going on. By then I was experiencing constant pain, numbness and a pins and needles sensation in my left arm. The pain was making me miserable so I stayed away from blogging. Instead, I worked on the garden even though I was hurting so badly. It kept me busy and I did see some great results. (More on that in another post.) Maybe it wasn't the wisest decision, but it helped with my worry too.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbs7kwDwVyA/U54qYv-mjRI/AAAAAAAAHyA/uSmUBjperE0/s1600/IMG_6564.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbs7kwDwVyA/U54qYv-mjRI/AAAAAAAAHyA/uSmUBjperE0/s1600/IMG_6564.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dranunculus vulgaris</i> looking lovely this year. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Now, all gardeners know back pain, am I right? It's just what happens to us after hauling, digging, and sifting through the dirt. The pain is our Badge of Courage. We're proud of our backs.<br /><br />My back has been a wreck for a long time and I honestly cannot recall when it all began. What I can say is that it's been getting worse and worse for the past few years and working outside has been exhausting for me.<br /><br />The pain begins and I'm simply spent. I retreat indoors in defeat.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y3xb5icYll0/U54rhnbw5gI/AAAAAAAAHzA/4E_V-izVoAk/s1600/IMG_6581.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y3xb5icYll0/U54rhnbw5gI/AAAAAAAAHzA/4E_V-izVoAk/s1600/IMG_6581.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front garden is partially a riot of color right now and I'm sort of in love with it. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Since my relationship with pain is rather complicated I didn't really know if what I was going through was a problem or not. I blamed my swelling disease. I blamed falling down the stairs. I nursed it as best as I could but I just decided at some point that sometimes my back hurt—a lot.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hd5JEheBDzM/U54qjej2kwI/AAAAAAAAHyQ/-sTJWaRHhfg/s1600/IMG_6569.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hd5JEheBDzM/U54qjej2kwI/AAAAAAAAHyQ/-sTJWaRHhfg/s1600/IMG_6569.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I found this <i>Magnolia grandiflora 'Bracken's Brown Beauty' </i>bloom in my garden the day of my surgery. It's my first and I'm a proud Mama.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I also have high pain tolerance and that's become detrimental, hence, back surgery. This past year I've been more regularly declaring my back issues to my doctor and she seemed to agree that as long as I walked and stayed active it would cause less pain. I thought I'd been keeping it honest so-to-speak but I guess I still didn't describe my experience as accurately as I could have but I didn't stay silent either. I tried. I honestly tried.</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Even when I did these preventative measure though, they didn't work. Or, I should say, over time they stopped working for me altogether. Things just kept feeling worse. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IdWXFvOrD90/U54qbSeFhzI/AAAAAAAAHyI/Mxsv20wGLAU/s1600/IMG_6570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IdWXFvOrD90/U54qbSeFhzI/AAAAAAAAHyI/Mxsv20wGLAU/s1600/IMG_6570.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely <i>Begonia</i> leaf.</td></tr></tbody></table>Pain is already part of my chronic illness condition. Swelling causes pain. I know that type of pain though and it's lessened a lot since I was prescribed my new medication several years ago.<br /><br />The back pain I felt—especially after returning from Italy—was different. I could barely stand up and I just wanted to cry. It was excruciating. Thinking things through, this sort of explained the urgency, but I still didn't really understand what was wrong with me and how it had happened.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--a8YeD-9HHA/U54qmgrcqII/AAAAAAAAHyY/NzVXzLDH86o/s1600/IMG_6572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--a8YeD-9HHA/U54qmgrcqII/AAAAAAAAHyY/NzVXzLDH86o/s1600/IMG_6572.jpg" height="400" width="321" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely <i>Bletilla striata</i> about to open. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>On Monday the neurosurgeon examined me, then we looked at my scans together. When I saw my spinal cord being pinched by a collapsed spinal canal, I nearly jumped out of my seat. It was clear that my spinal cord wasn't happy and the herniation caused by the narrowing in the spinal column explained the pinching pain when I moved my head. And of course, the pressure from this was pinching my nerve.<br /><br />Ok, I got it. So I looked at him and said, "<i>What do we do about it?</i>"<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Drl-Zjk_gf8/U54o7AxBSpI/AAAAAAAAHxk/di-iGDOriHs/s1600/IMG_6633.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Drl-Zjk_gf8/U54o7AxBSpI/AAAAAAAAHxk/di-iGDOriHs/s1600/IMG_6633.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lathyrus sativus azureus. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"<i>Well,</i> <i>I recommend surgery,</i>" he said.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd expected a cortisone shot and this far exceeded my expectations. I was surprisingly both shocked and thrilled. Then I wondered how much longer I'd have to wait. I've never heard of anyone getting back surgery quickly. I just did not think it was possible. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"<i>How soon will this happen?</i>" I asked. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">"<i>Right away</i>," he said and we walked down the hall to make the appointment at the front desk.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was ecstatic when I found out I'd only have to wait 7 more days. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-95VrT7Px5F8/U54rh7bKQUI/AAAAAAAAHy4/E6n2Nb_EBso/s1600/IMG_6583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-95VrT7Px5F8/U54rh7bKQUI/AAAAAAAAHy4/E6n2Nb_EBso/s1600/IMG_6583.JPG" height="283" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The front garden on the day of surgery. John and I both laughed at the lone orange lily in the boxwood hedge. </td></tr></tbody></table>Well it's true, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."<br /><br />I had one week to prepare for 1 month of little to no upper body physical activity. For a gardener in the month of June this isn't exactly easy when you're the primary gardener in the household. I'm working hard to recover quickly though. I can begin going on nice walks again soon and I'll focus on that first.<br /><br />Many of my garden plans for this summer had to be folded up and put away but I didn't mind. I've never been so desperate to feel better and I was truly at the end of my rope.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J9SUOaqdC2o/U54rhxR1bHI/AAAAAAAAHy8/8P73ojqbuVw/s1600/IMG_6597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-J9SUOaqdC2o/U54rhxR1bHI/AAAAAAAAHy8/8P73ojqbuVw/s1600/IMG_6597.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers John bought from <a href="https://www.facebook.com/pages/Quinn-in-the-City-Flowers/68733882405">Quinn in the City Flowers</a>. These were just what I needed during my overnight stay in the hospital. </td></tr></tbody></table>It's not completely clear to me when the debilitating pain began, but I suspect that when <a href="http://seedcollector.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-post.html">I fell down the stairs in the front of my house nearly 3 years ago</a> I seriously hurt my back. At the time I was more concerned about my swollen ankle. Weeks later I discovered after the Fling in Seattle I'd broken two fingers too but I continued to believe that my back pain was only temporary and I chose not to have it examined.<br /><br />The injury lingered and remained consistent throughout the divorce and remarriage. While working as a caregiver, it made my job impossible at times. I ended up quitting because of it.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jUhBb0sEbzk/U54qpecawuI/AAAAAAAAHyg/B0SkMMW17pA/s1600/IMG_6607.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jUhBb0sEbzk/U54qpecawuI/AAAAAAAAHyg/B0SkMMW17pA/s1600/IMG_6607.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> A box of trial plants from <a href="http://www.terranovanurseries.com/">Terra Nova Nurseries</a> arrived the day I came home from the hospital. It felt a bit like Christmas.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok, so what's the takeaway? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Honestly, I just want everyone to take care of themselves and to use caution when they're walking. I might be a klutz, but all it takes is some uneven ground and an unsteady gait. What I've also learned from this is that when I fell and broke my tailbone and two vertebrae many years ago, it's likely I caused light nerve damage in my legs and feet. This is likely how my balance has worsened along with my gait. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tf0_hQupIOM/U55qbrymWtI/AAAAAAAAHzk/tgj97a7_ZN8/s1600/IMG_6632.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tf0_hQupIOM/U55qbrymWtI/AAAAAAAAHzk/tgj97a7_ZN8/s1600/IMG_6632.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what a Posterior Cervical Laminectomy looks like a week after surgery. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm fully committed now to returning to the gym to improve my life. I can't keep this up. I don't want to live like this anymore. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zuui1CXrhwQ/U54rok2ETkI/AAAAAAAAHzM/jzL6z_CVe7M/s1600/IMG_6619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zuui1CXrhwQ/U54rok2ETkI/AAAAAAAAHzM/jzL6z_CVe7M/s1600/IMG_6619.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My nurse often sleeps on the job but he's been with me 24/7 this past week. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is no nerve pain currently in my left arm and my fingers are no longer numb. I can tip my head back to look at the ceiling and there's no stabbing pain from the pinched herniation. I've been dealing with that sensation for years and I won't miss it at all. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FI_hBu8kEm0/U54qwIwa98I/AAAAAAAAHyo/pnqGX_Fo3Nc/s1600/IMG_6634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FI_hBu8kEm0/U54qwIwa98I/AAAAAAAAHyo/pnqGX_Fo3Nc/s1600/IMG_6634.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My view from bed could be worse. </td></tr></tbody></table>These things take time to heal, and seeds of change must be planted, so as I lie here in bed, I'm just reading gardening and plant books. This is a nice time to reflect on the past and while moving forward to a healthier and brighter future.<br /><br />I'm so excited.<br /><br />My life just keeps getting better and better. I'm so thankful. I just cannot say that enough.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0aCMk-3Pt0A/U55qNd9bllI/AAAAAAAAHzc/_H-zoPvB82c/s1600/IMG_6636.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0aCMk-3Pt0A/U55qNd9bllI/AAAAAAAAHzc/_H-zoPvB82c/s1600/IMG_6636.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">St. Expeditus. </td></tr></tbody></table>A good friend of mine returned home for a visit to New Orleans before we knew about the surgery and she didn't return to Portland until after it had happened. So, she bought me this statue of St. Expeditus while she was there as a souvenir. Seeing as he's the patron saint of emergencies and expeditious solutions he's more than welcome to look over my garden and I until I'm well again.<br /><br />So far, I think he's doing a great job, don't you?<br /><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-27260122346512936262014-05-21T00:01:00.000-07:002014-05-21T09:05:00.647-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Walking to See an Ill Friend<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRsPg7ALhuw/U3w3k98GMmI/AAAAAAAAHj8/5q61J_mf5uQ/s1600/IMG_6329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zRsPg7ALhuw/U3w3k98GMmI/AAAAAAAAHj8/5q61J_mf5uQ/s1600/IMG_6329.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Iris pallida</i> 'Variegata'. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tPUCpyBeF_U/U3w3hmMmCvI/AAAAAAAAHjo/EPjcqecRrPU/s1600/IMG_6295.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tPUCpyBeF_U/U3w3hmMmCvI/AAAAAAAAHjo/EPjcqecRrPU/s1600/IMG_6295.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rosa '</i>Sombreuil'.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wSsn4UzmLLE/U3w3jE_p1WI/AAAAAAAAHjw/NvDjlFv_HEU/s1600/IMG_6334.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wSsn4UzmLLE/U3w3jE_p1WI/AAAAAAAAHjw/NvDjlFv_HEU/s1600/IMG_6334.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Aegopodium</i> <i>podagraria</i> 'Variegatum'.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WVDo2TM5SN0/U3w4DNvSUSI/AAAAAAAAHkQ/Z7lslzdCBX4/s1600/IMG_6340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WVDo2TM5SN0/U3w4DNvSUSI/AAAAAAAAHkQ/Z7lslzdCBX4/s1600/IMG_6340.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Lavandula stoechas. </i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yuhObvAT1uo/U3w38LRT5mI/AAAAAAAAHkE/6P_fqgM-uUI/s1600/IMG_6342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yuhObvAT1uo/U3w38LRT5mI/AAAAAAAAHkE/6P_fqgM-uUI/s1600/IMG_6342.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Papaver orientale.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHgf1US9HKk/U3w37mv6HNI/AAAAAAAAHkA/0RUFGZhWrB4/s1600/IMG_6344.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SHgf1US9HKk/U3w37mv6HNI/AAAAAAAAHkA/0RUFGZhWrB4/s1600/IMG_6344.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Paeonia.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IT3U4NVzlK8/U3w4IgA1rtI/AAAAAAAAHkY/H7ITxhd0I58/s1600/IMG_6348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IT3U4NVzlK8/U3w4IgA1rtI/AAAAAAAAHkY/H7ITxhd0I58/s1600/IMG_6348.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Tetrapanax papyrifer.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-522RcBI47FQ/U3xB6OZk4SI/AAAAAAAAHko/z74-WcJqK6Q/s1600/IMG_6345.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-522RcBI47FQ/U3xB6OZk4SI/AAAAAAAAHko/z74-WcJqK6Q/s1600/IMG_6345.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cytisus battandieri</i>. (Thanks Danger Garden for the ID.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-39887312922732887222014-05-14T15:04:00.001-07:002014-05-14T15:04:29.555-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Before the current heat wave it was still springtime...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DH0d1JBSpDw/U3PkgscrIoI/AAAAAAAAHiA/CBebpzLuVt0/s1600/IMG_6150.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DH0d1JBSpDw/U3PkgscrIoI/AAAAAAAAHiA/CBebpzLuVt0/s1600/IMG_6150.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Paeonia tenuifolia. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a9pM3h1nICM/U3PkYCAAdAI/AAAAAAAAHho/O6oJC4bS0jI/s1600/IMG_6122.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a9pM3h1nICM/U3PkYCAAdAI/AAAAAAAAHho/O6oJC4bS0jI/s1600/IMG_6122.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unknown <i>Syringa</i>. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xnlooWzSDQY/U3PkaOhp4JI/AAAAAAAAHhw/UfdA5FZ0rc4/s1600/IMG_6123.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xnlooWzSDQY/U3PkaOhp4JI/AAAAAAAAHhw/UfdA5FZ0rc4/s1600/IMG_6123.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Iberis sermpervirens. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yB1wBntA7lk/U3PkZqq0viI/AAAAAAAAHhs/2miFel3liKM/s1600/IMG_6124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yB1wBntA7lk/U3PkZqq0viI/AAAAAAAAHhs/2miFel3liKM/s1600/IMG_6124.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Clematis montana var. rubens superba.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YakCHmVXuW0/U3Pk8PT5lzI/AAAAAAAAHiY/NjogiHs8T38/s1600/IMG_6165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YakCHmVXuW0/U3Pk8PT5lzI/AAAAAAAAHiY/NjogiHs8T38/s1600/IMG_6165.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Vaccinium ovatum</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnaZJ069i00/U3PkxQsmVsI/AAAAAAAAHiQ/fN59Z-VgeII/s1600/IMG_6177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HnaZJ069i00/U3PkxQsmVsI/AAAAAAAAHiQ/fN59Z-VgeII/s1600/IMG_6177.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unknown <i>Iris.</i></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUSs-FvNKGQ/U3PkwJLc60I/AAAAAAAAHiI/rRHvC7K3H2E/s1600/IMG_6182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WUSs-FvNKGQ/U3PkwJLc60I/AAAAAAAAHiI/rRHvC7K3H2E/s1600/IMG_6182.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Dicentra</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oeqIoMMNczM/U3PlCoL7uII/AAAAAAAAHig/Iqxk5KSF5bo/s1600/IMG_6191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oeqIoMMNczM/U3PlCoL7uII/AAAAAAAAHig/Iqxk5KSF5bo/s1600/IMG_6191.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dutch Iris. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q3tegihryUc/U3PlH8vcQgI/AAAAAAAAHio/gc8l7nJpno0/s1600/IMG_6192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-q3tegihryUc/U3PlH8vcQgI/AAAAAAAAHio/gc8l7nJpno0/s1600/IMG_6192.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Clematis</i> 'Josephine'.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbOpNSetFjY/U3PlPQQEsOI/AAAAAAAAHiw/z48qtBhWWdc/s1600/IMG_6195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CbOpNSetFjY/U3PlPQQEsOI/AAAAAAAAHiw/z48qtBhWWdc/s1600/IMG_6195.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The confused Christmas Cactus. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ewI1hVTukv8/U3PlQTLpuUI/AAAAAAAAHi0/5qmIAp86kV4/s1600/IMG_6229.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ewI1hVTukv8/U3PlQTLpuUI/AAAAAAAAHi0/5qmIAp86kV4/s1600/IMG_6229.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Rosa</i> 'Golden Showers'.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-38196081021641051232014-05-09T23:11:00.001-07:002014-05-09T23:18:41.870-07:0024 Hours in Rome (Viva Roma!) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wshpnlm5Bgw/U2vvDGiyvKI/AAAAAAAAHgE/XX5wiSz94g0/s1600/IMG_2348.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wshpnlm5Bgw/U2vvDGiyvKI/AAAAAAAAHgE/XX5wiSz94g0/s1600/IMG_2348.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stone_pine">Stone pines</a>, <i>Pinus pinea</i>. </td></tr></tbody></table>The first thing I noticed during our one day in Rome—other than the crushing push of other tourists and the really annoying street vendors—was the pine trees.<br /><br />They're emblematic of Italian landscapes so it was refreshing to my mind's eye when they finally made their grand appearance.<br /><br />[The beauty of the trees inspired the symphonic poem <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pines_of_Rome">Pines of Rome</a> (<i>Pini di Roma</i>) by Ottorino Respighi nearly 100 years ago (1924). The piece depicts different pine trees in Rome during different times of the day. I have to admit I'm rather fond of the work and if you're familiar with the Disney film <i>Fantasia 2000</i> you've already heard one of the movements.]<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iCkBSsEOYA/U2vvDO_7m6I/AAAAAAAAHgA/0ol3exwFNS4/s1600/IMG_2350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4iCkBSsEOYA/U2vvDO_7m6I/AAAAAAAAHgA/0ol3exwFNS4/s1600/IMG_2350.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One side of <i>Il Monumento Nazionale a Vittorio Emanuele II.</i> (Note the lovely pine tree.)</td></tr></tbody></table>One of my husband's favorite buildings is considered a controversial eyesore to many other Italians. I thought it was pretty, but I didn't have many other pieces of architecture to compare it to since I really only saw it and a few other sites on our way to the Vatican. At that time, I didn't fully understand its context, but I do now.<br /><br />Considering that this is the building built and dedicated to honor <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Victor_Emmanuel_II_of_Italy">Victor Emmanuel II</a> and the unification (<i>Risorgimento</i>) of Italy, I understand the issues involved after having really thought about it. I won't go into detail, but the building is really fascinating. There are so many angles to analyze it from and that's honestly what I ended up taking away from it. Being complicated and controversial is honestly kind of a good thing in Italy so I say let the building do what it does best.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cQK5cxPbccM/U2vvOaq_qSI/AAAAAAAAHgQ/ZiaVme7-Mfc/s1600/IMG_2351.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cQK5cxPbccM/U2vvOaq_qSI/AAAAAAAAHgQ/ZiaVme7-Mfc/s1600/IMG_2351.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Walking alongside the Tiber River. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We'd flown into Rome early that day, and had taken the train into the city from the airport. After dropping off our bags at our hotel we started our walk. I think it was around 11am. This did not leave us much time. I was still not well from the food poisoning and I think between the two of us we'd only had 8 hours of sleep the night before. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Originally we'd planned to have 2 days in Rome but our flight from Palermo had been cancelled and we couldn't reschedule for the same day so we had to settle on this arrangement. It wasn't ideal, but I'm glad I had a few moments there. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8wfxGXTM-KI/U2vvg61P9dI/AAAAAAAAHgo/hsOvWBJFgkk/s1600/IMG_5800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8wfxGXTM-KI/U2vvg61P9dI/AAAAAAAAHgo/hsOvWBJFgkk/s1600/IMG_5800.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Inside St. Peter's Basilica. The gold ceiling reminded me of home and the arm popping out of the wall added some drama. It was beautiful. I'll give it that.</td></tr></tbody></table>Though I'm not a practicing or even a confirmed Catholic, my life is Catholic-by-culture. My father is very devout and so is my mother-in-law so it was fun for John and I to be naughty Catholic school kids together. (They both expect that from us at this point.)<br /><br />Once we were there I was uncomfortable amongst the tourists and found all of their pushing in line, cameras, talking loudly, and chatting on their phones (though you're not supposed to be doing so) incredibly disrespectful.<br /><br />It felt a lot like a zoo that day but I guess it <i>was</i> the beginning of Easter week.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nFhKkSNcsa4/U2vvhIlAV-I/AAAAAAAAHgs/B07RnBaWLMw/s1600/IMG_5804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nFhKkSNcsa4/U2vvhIlAV-I/AAAAAAAAHgs/B07RnBaWLMw/s1600/IMG_5804.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was Good Friday when we visited and these were real palm fronds out front on St Peter's columns. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">If I'd wanted to be around piety, I could have gone to Mass, but that was highly unlikely. </div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">(I thankfully had other quiet moments in other churches during the trip. I even saw what's left of the body of my favorite female saint. I had no idea I'd get that opportunity and it was a very exciting surprise for me.)</div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQRCsRQip9U/U2vvS9XfRaI/AAAAAAAAHgY/S3LdXkprsCg/s1600/IMG_5808.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-sQRCsRQip9U/U2vvS9XfRaI/AAAAAAAAHgY/S3LdXkprsCg/s1600/IMG_5808.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At least John and I tried on some 'tough guy' faces while loitering at the entrance.</td></tr></tbody></table>Overall, the Vatican kind of underwhelmed me—and yes, <i>of course</i> I feel guilty now.<br /><br />I knew I should have picked the botanical garden. (<i>**Just joking!**</i>)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-quRKXM_i4k8/U2vvbyupNfI/AAAAAAAAHgg/LW4877Lsj2I/s1600/IMG_5824.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-quRKXM_i4k8/U2vvbyupNfI/AAAAAAAAHgg/LW4877Lsj2I/s1600/IMG_5824.jpg" height="358" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our hotel room. The rooftop garden in the distance had a tomato jungle growing in it.</td></tr></tbody></table>Our walk back to the hotel from Vatican City was a physically painful one for me. (I guess I could have taken a taxi, but I was trying to save money.) My feet and legs had exploded by this point and my swelling disease was throwing a serious fit. <i>Oops!</i><br /><br />I was hoping Pope Francis would cruise past us in his Ford Focus and we'd catch a ride with him to our hotel because he'd taken pity on me—but no dice.<br /><br />To make the time pass I had fun spinning old religious yarns in my head about pilgrims. Despite the pain, that walk was good for me because I was in Rome<i> after all</i> and in the moment. It was a space in life, and in this world, I'd never really lived in and that felt really good. I think I grew a bit more as a person during that short-lived day despite the difficulties—or maybe because of them. That's so often the case now isn't it?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">• • •</div><br />Later, after resting, we had an amazing dinner, and of course I didn't take photos. My mind was yet a bit wild.<br /><br />I wanted to add though that the art deco era <a href="http://www.romehotelatlantico.it/en">Atlantico Hotel</a> (just a block or so from the train station) was a great place to stay and I highly recommend it. The rooftop restaurant of its sister hotel (<a href="http://www.romehotelmediterraneo.it/en">Hotel Mediterraneo</a>) was <i>more than</i> outstanding. After a long day it was such a treat to eat dinner while overlooking the Vatican and the Colosseum.<br /><br />Thoughts of Fellini filled my head—but not for long. I'd look over at John and he was clearly having a difficult time containing himself.<br /><br />In the morning we'd leave for Venice and this was exciting for my husband. He <i>could not wait </i>to show me the region of his people. I was nervous about this, but curious. I was also terrified of more tourists. (If this trip taught me anything, it's that I'm not fond of the masses. I just get rattled. This never used to happen, but I think years of illness have really made it worse. That was a difficult realization. I'd changed and not noticed.)<br /><br />It saddened me to have seen such a tiny sliver of Rome, but I hope to return to it someday.<br /><br />But Venice, we'll it's just a different creature all together...</div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-61958358050481773872014-05-03T16:28:00.002-07:002014-05-03T17:25:47.375-07:00Sicily: Part Two (Palermo and some of Ancient Sicily)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>The chronology of our Sicily trip is a bit out of order in these two posts but I'm trying to remain focused on a few themes related to gardening and the green spirit. "Buon divertimento!"</i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yZ3YgNHLQqs/U2SUBgsOAFI/AAAAAAAAHe4/d8y8U_289Lk/s1600/IMG_5736.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yZ3YgNHLQqs/U2SUBgsOAFI/AAAAAAAAHe4/d8y8U_289Lk/s1600/IMG_5736.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cucuzza squash in the Mercato di Capo in Palermo. </td></tr></tbody></table>We'd planned to drive into Palermo twice during our time in Sicily but a food poisoning incident put an end to that plan two days before we were scheduled to fly to Rome. What's worse is that I'd intended to spend that last day at the botanical garden but all I could do was vow to return. What's a girl <i>to</i> do? Seriously.<br /><br />This meant that we had to leave the island with only a few memories of the chaotic città di Palermo, but at least we saw the catacombs and il Mercato di Capo. My other hope all along had been to visit a market in Palermo and somehow we landed at one of the largest quite by accident.<br /><br />Ok, maybe it was fate after all, a big hug from my Sicilian family from beyond the grave...<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1gfO2P-EZoo/U2VARLHnEeI/AAAAAAAAHfQ/FcSdSMC_AnA/s1600/sc00019d13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1gfO2P-EZoo/U2VARLHnEeI/AAAAAAAAHfQ/FcSdSMC_AnA/s1600/sc00019d13.jpg" height="400" width="277" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My great-grandpa Frank Amato with a cucuzza he grew in his garden in SE Portland. Since it's much colder here in Oregon than in Sicily I know this was a triumph for him. I'm sure this photo was taken to always remember this accomplishment. </td></tr></tbody></table>All I could think about that day in Palermo was my family. Everything I saw as I looked around brought color and life back into the black & white photos I'd grown up seeing. This awakening of snapshots invigorated me and although I walked beside my husband, I knew then as I know now that this experience was my own and I embraced every awkward moment of it. (Honestly, he'd bought a platter of pastries and was reliving his own Italian childhood as we walked through the market that day.) There we were walking together reliving our own memories yet his were real and mine were only the half-imagined stuff of stories, old photos, and dreams mixed with raw emotions. I wanted so badly to be a little girl walking beside my great-uncle Charlie (holding his hand), or to be with his best-friend, cousin Joe.<br /><br />It felt strange to be in Sicily alone.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nggnU9Slg6o/U2SUB15VvQI/AAAAAAAAHfA/kiLp3BMyDFU/s1600/IMG_5732.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nggnU9Slg6o/U2SUB15VvQI/AAAAAAAAHfA/kiLp3BMyDFU/s1600/IMG_5732.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Il Mercato di Capo.</td></tr></tbody></table>Yet, that was the beginning of an ongoing chain of epiphanies for me as I walked through the market.<br /><br />Any American with a strong tie to another culture can make choices—either cut their ties and let the past remain the past or inject new life into it. I've always straddled my Italian-American identity and dealing with being bi-cultural in Oregon in the 1980s was not easy. Countless times Americans have told me I wasn't Italian enough to be Italian and they were wrong. Children should never have to grow up defending their identity. They have no idea how painful and damaging those words were to me.<br /><br />Besides, Italians don't quantify their identity, they qualify it. That's why I have a blood right (<i>jus sanguinis</i>) entitling me to Italian citizenship. I've been given that choice by my bloodline. In Italy it doesn't matter how much Italian blood you possess, what matters is what you do with the heritage that's been passed on to you through birth.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8uyKydEKHdA/U2ST9xPsHJI/AAAAAAAAHeo/2OP6owNk2kM/s1600/IMG_5739.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8uyKydEKHdA/U2ST9xPsHJI/AAAAAAAAHeo/2OP6owNk2kM/s1600/IMG_5739.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>As a girl I'd looked at photos with family members and I'd been told that these were a part of who I was and of my identity but I know now the damage that can do over time. I was always confused because those photos weren't of my life in the 1980s with a mother who wasn't in the least bit Sicilian and with two brothers who in no way cared about any of this.<br /><br />We're the American generation that really is able to choose to be called American but I'm the only one of my siblings who's chosen to remain hyphenated. This is what happens in bi-cultural and bi-racial families. Individuals must be allowed to decide who and what they're going to be and the family fabric will change.<br /><br />I wish I had siblings like me, but I don't, and honestly, we're not that close. For me it's always felt like a cultural rift or divide but it's difficult to say.<br /><br />Instead of dwelling, I've lived my own independent life and have chosen to remain Italian through my marriages and I'm pleased now to have an Italian mother-in-law. It's the way my life is, has been, and will be. I'm happier now than I've ever been. I love to cook and garden. I have an undying love for produce and fresh food. And when I wake up I drink my coffee and spend a lot of time everyday thinking of making new dishes for the many friends I invite to eat at my table.<br /><br />Seeing a market in Sicily one day can make all of this happen if you're the right kind of person in need of that kind of emotional catharsis. I've been crying out for that experience for so long and it's sad I had to wait for so long and travel so far but I'm a better person now.<br /><br />Ok, now back to our regularly scheduled programming…<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rSIQ35t6HCE/U1fxKqdJzcI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/_hAi1QvtPcw/s1600/IMG_2188.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rSIQ35t6HCE/U1fxKqdJzcI/AAAAAAAAHWQ/_hAi1QvtPcw/s1600/IMG_2188.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This mosaic floor depicts the bountiful harvests available on the island during the era of the Roman Empire. Many of the orchards had been planted by the Greeks centuries before so there was already an agricultural system in place. </td></tr></tbody></table>Leading up to that epiphany in the market we'd spent the day before driving from Termini to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Romana_del_Casale">Villa Romana del Casale</a> in the interior of the island. The villa contains the largest collection of Roman mosaics in the world and is an UNESCO World Heritage Site. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BAOGK1reHt0/U2VYDSFMH9I/AAAAAAAAHfg/d0MOHGeuC1c/s1600/IMG_2176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BAOGK1reHt0/U2VYDSFMH9I/AAAAAAAAHfg/d0MOHGeuC1c/s1600/IMG_2176.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>The "bikini girls" is by far the most famous mosaic work in the complex. Seeing it in person was a highlight of the trip for me. It was absolutely nothing like I had imagined. The figures are quite large and they're more real when seeing them in person. The shading on the leg muscles was much better than I'd remembered seeing in books.<br /><br />I also noticed all of the botanical bits and pieces as we walked through the entire complex. Recounting what I knew about the meaning of each plant as we looked at the mosaics was interesting to John. Although he has a Master's degree in history, with an empasis on the Italian Renaissance, he'd never read much about ancient Rome and Italy. It was fun sharing with him.<br /><br />Nowhere in Rome will you see anything quite like the Villa Romana del Casele. It's huge and very well preserved. Walking on walkways overlooking all of the rooms and floors was a brilliant design plan too. You see so much!<br /><br />It really made me long to return to my days as a student of art and landscape history. I'd once worked hard to specialize in ancient art, philosophy, and history. Using my knowledge while there though really enriched the experience for me. John left knowing a lot more about Italy's flora and the history of it too although we both still have so much more we want to learn.<br /><br />Driving several hours though the countryside, stopping in the road for a shepherd and his flock of sheep, and chatting all day with John about his impressions of the place made for a dream-like day. We still had one more stop though.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HUUyXn1wfsM/U1fxggMY_gI/AAAAAAAAHWo/oxvdLd4mPkg/s1600/IMG_2231.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HUUyXn1wfsM/U1fxggMY_gI/AAAAAAAAHWo/oxvdLd4mPkg/s1600/IMG_2231.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We drove for a few more hours to Agrigento, on the southern coast of Sicily. This is where you'll find the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Valle_dei_Templi">Valle dei Templi</a>. In addition to being a national monument in Italy, it's also one of the best places in the world for Ancient Greek architecture. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The temples are above the valley, along a ridge. As we drove into town they were difficult to miss. The view from the road below was truly breathtaking and I was left speechless. I've had few spiritual moments in my life, but that afternoon was truly a spiritual pilgrimage for me. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AGyiMY73q5o/U1fxsHnmFrI/AAAAAAAAHWw/g1DIMJEnH1c/s1600/IMG_2234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AGyiMY73q5o/U1fxsHnmFrI/AAAAAAAAHWw/g1DIMJEnH1c/s1600/IMG_2234.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, there was an attached garden too but its gate was closed. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And it was so <i>lovely</i> that in the middle of the ancient Greek temples, catacombs, and necropolis you'll find this humble home built by an Englishman by the name of Hardcastle who came to "save" the temples. I will <i>not</i> get onto the topic of what other Europeans have done in Italy in regards to preserving the history of the ancient and artistic heritage we all seemingly share, but I'm certainly of the opinion that this lovely eyesore should have been built somewhere else—oh, and that England should hand back the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elgin_Marbles">Elgin Marbles</a> to Athens. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">(I also highly recommend the novel <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Nike-A-Romance-Nicholas-Flokos/dp/B003A02QAE"><i>Nike: A Romance</i></a> by Nicholas Flokos. It's a love story like no other concerning the repatriation of the Winged Victory statue in the Louvre.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This should probably make my sentiments and opinion quite clear. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l6uJDL6ma8A/U2VitDknmxI/AAAAAAAAHfw/C03JVVBk44Y/s1600/IMG_2221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l6uJDL6ma8A/U2VitDknmxI/AAAAAAAAHfw/C03JVVBk44Y/s1600/IMG_2221.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here I am standing in front of the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Concordia,_Agrigento">Temple of Concordia</a>.<span id="goog_67398073"></span><span id="goog_67398074"></span><a href="https://www.blogger.com/"></a></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It is sad to me that John does not share my interest in the ancient world, but he has other things to buoy his interest up north and happily we ended up learning a lot from one another. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Life is a funny thing and we all need our own <i>raison d'être</i> as the French like to say. I think it's important that we each find our own and respect others'. There truly are so many options out there that make life truly worth living. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rwk8EfdCN3s/U1fyAwFjtKI/AAAAAAAAHXI/ijhLQ1cfjmE/s1600/IMG_2247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rwk8EfdCN3s/U1fyAwFjtKI/AAAAAAAAHXI/ijhLQ1cfjmE/s1600/IMG_2247.JPG" height="326" width="400" /></a></div>As we walked back to the car, I spotted this sign and glimpsed over to the area it was describing.<br /><br />Only exhaustion at this point kept me away.<br /><br />I wanted the signs to tell me more—so much more.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cVQKqmC9ngc/U1fyYEfcb2I/AAAAAAAAHXc/b5tYuSKYG0k/s1600/IMG_2249.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cVQKqmC9ngc/U1fyYEfcb2I/AAAAAAAAHXc/b5tYuSKYG0k/s1600/IMG_2249.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>But my body was in no mood to make the descent.<br /><br />I definitely need to study more and return refreshed and prepared to Sicily.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f0OtJdnP15o/U1f2BTyNluI/AAAAAAAAHbY/9YI9taW67nc/s1600/IMG_5771.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-f0OtJdnP15o/U1f2BTyNluI/AAAAAAAAHbY/9YI9taW67nc/s1600/IMG_5771.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;">We drifted from that ancient universe to Palermo and then to Cefelù after several trips into Termini. The days truly all blend together now. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">That evening in Cefalù I purchased seeds at this shop for my mother-in-law and myself and it was a bit like a candy store for me. All the necessary new Italian vocabulary I needed to communicate with other gardeners was there on the shelves. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">(This is not vocabulary you learn in your regular Italian language course.) </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Then I ate something that gave me food poisoning and the trip took a turn. </div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wGRXeVZX92w/U2SUCQtar7I/AAAAAAAAHfE/qs9zWfTIQ-Q/s1600/IMG_5788.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wGRXeVZX92w/U2SUCQtar7I/AAAAAAAAHfE/qs9zWfTIQ-Q/s1600/IMG_5788.jpg" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John and I after a day of bed rest due to food poisoning. Our nausea made walking difficult but we made it down to the common area at least. </td></tr></tbody></table>Our last full day in Sicily was spent recovering from the food poisoning. John only had three bites of the aranchi rice ball that made me so sick so at least he empathized. We were both unable to move much that day so we just processed what we'd seen so far and John and I talked about what was yet to come.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YSQ8nwPG-iI/U1f2gmnZ6TI/AAAAAAAAHbw/aZt_jDN90P8/s1600/IMG_5780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YSQ8nwPG-iI/U1f2gmnZ6TI/AAAAAAAAHbw/aZt_jDN90P8/s1600/IMG_5780.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild native <i>Gladiolus italicus</i> growing in the olive orchard. </td></tr></tbody></table>I wandered around where we'd been staying to take more plant pics and after John returned to our room, I sat with the Sicilian tourists at the restaurant below our lodgings and soaked up their noise as I wrote to friends back home using the Wifi connection.<br /><br />The day-trip tourists ate daily at the restaurant and then danced to loud music and talked to one another. (Yes, Sicilians love agroturismo too and they'd all paid to take a bus to artichoke country to spend time basking in the harvest.) We were largely ignored as outsiders, but that last day it changed for me.<br /><br />The day before I'd heard an old man on the patio playing traditional Sicilian music with his mandolin. My heart had seriously skipped a beat. That day he was back. The tourists piled onto the buses and only he and I were on the patio. He hobbled over to me and sat down speaking Sicilian dialect as he slowly crossed the distance. Looking right into his eyes, I pieced my words together carefully. <br /><br />I told him in broken Italian I understood him but did not speak well. He shifted to Italian.<br /><br />I pointed at his mandolin and said to him (in broken Italian), "the music of my great-grandparents".<br /><br />He asked me if I was Sicilian. I said yes. He asked me my name. I said Amato because that's what a Sicilian means if he's asking about your name. He wants to know the name of your family. He asked where my family was from and I said Termini.<br /><br /><i>Cha-ching!</i><br /><br />And that's the key to opening up a Sicilian. He smiled a wide smile and his eyes lit up. Then he asked what my mother was and I said "American". As is usual, he told me that was ok and then he played music for me and sang. He apologized for his playing and blamed his age. He told me he lived nearby and was widowed and alone. He walked to the restaurant when he could for the exercise.<br /><br />Then we talked about Oregon. He was shocked that Sicilians so long ago had moved so far away. This was not the first time I'd heard this either. I didn't have the heart to tell him that they'd avoided other Sicilians in the United States intentionally. At least that's what I'd been told by a relative not long before he died. We never had spoken much about it when I was a kid, but he told me because by that point it no longer mattered. What's done is done.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G79SbZ2N8vU/U1f2GhGORCI/AAAAAAAAHbg/7yvGsQqXoYA/s1600/IMG_5781.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-G79SbZ2N8vU/U1f2GhGORCI/AAAAAAAAHbg/7yvGsQqXoYA/s1600/IMG_5781.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from our bed. The doors to the room are glass but then there is a second lockable set with louvers. It's a great way to manage the Sicilian sun and heat. </td></tr></tbody></table>This is part of my American story and I'm proud of it. My Sicilian family thought differently and I'm happy they landed in Portland.<br /><br />It's also been said they came here for the soil. They wanted nothing more than to be able to grow vegetables in peace and to prosper beyond poverty. Unlike many other Italian emigrants, they saw success early on and their sacrifice paid off.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--CRFaFJenbI/U1f2YHjE5gI/AAAAAAAAHbo/Dl4Vjs1yVCM/s1600/IMG_5797.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--CRFaFJenbI/U1f2YHjE5gI/AAAAAAAAHbo/Dl4Vjs1yVCM/s1600/IMG_5797.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Last photo before leaving. </td></tr></tbody></table>Driving through Palermo in the dark on our way to the airport I recalled having seen the bleak monument near the waterfront only days earlier dedicated to AI CADUTI NELLA LOTTA CONTRO LA MAFIA (those who'd fallen in the fight against the mafia). I thought of the judges who'd been blown up along that same road. I thought too of the brave Sicilians participating in <a href="http://www.addiopizzo.org/">addiopizzo</a>. Many of them are of my generation and I know that if I lived there I too would be in their ranks.<br /><br />I abhor the glorification of organized crime in any way, shape, or form. The commodification of this way of life feeds on the glorification of interpersonal violence and it's <i><b>not</b></i> what Sicilian culture is about and I'm ashamed of the ignorance of those who play into these stereotypes.<br /><br />Leaving Sicily that Friday morning was <i>very</i> difficult for me. I'd only just started watching as something inside of me had germinated and began to grow. At least whatever it was was going with me.<br /><br />When the wheels of the plane lifted off, I felt an emotional tug in my gut. I did not want to leave but I left with my eyes wide open for what felt like the first time in my life.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-66794044038898274622014-04-30T00:01:00.000-07:002014-04-30T00:01:00.314-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Venice in a Windowbox <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wT0HIiG8ESM/U1hlLPQpZgI/AAAAAAAAHdw/IqV6vJlGpyo/s1600/IMG_6044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wT0HIiG8ESM/U1hlLPQpZgI/AAAAAAAAHdw/IqV6vJlGpyo/s1600/IMG_6044.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xopGrshLR08/U1hj-bVvs2I/AAAAAAAAHcc/3FMrxYcem6g/s1600/IMG_2357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xopGrshLR08/U1hj-bVvs2I/AAAAAAAAHcc/3FMrxYcem6g/s1600/IMG_2357.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uZonhdnL-CI/U1hkM4L0xjI/AAAAAAAAHc0/mbDiEaqFBbo/s1600/IMG_2360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uZonhdnL-CI/U1hkM4L0xjI/AAAAAAAAHc0/mbDiEaqFBbo/s1600/IMG_2360.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QTatGjEk9EE/U1hj-qMMNPI/AAAAAAAAHcg/Hw_FgcuJOc4/s1600/IMG_2371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-QTatGjEk9EE/U1hj-qMMNPI/AAAAAAAAHcg/Hw_FgcuJOc4/s1600/IMG_2371.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ihtmu1wAgwU/U1hkGlE1MtI/AAAAAAAAHcs/9PKouaGLZZ0/s1600/IMG_2382.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Ihtmu1wAgwU/U1hkGlE1MtI/AAAAAAAAHcs/9PKouaGLZZ0/s1600/IMG_2382.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--onZrFhieGA/U1hkeyU203I/AAAAAAAAHdM/8R2wCotIMpk/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--onZrFhieGA/U1hkeyU203I/AAAAAAAAHdM/8R2wCotIMpk/s1600/IMG_2395.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cEnYgOXdEWo/U1hkWfYUEOI/AAAAAAAAHc8/ieyeDMexK-s/s1600/IMG_2397.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cEnYgOXdEWo/U1hkWfYUEOI/AAAAAAAAHc8/ieyeDMexK-s/s1600/IMG_2397.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h8G0UcnV7AI/U1hkck8042I/AAAAAAAAHdE/tYNAB1sx7yQ/s1600/IMG_2402.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h8G0UcnV7AI/U1hkck8042I/AAAAAAAAHdE/tYNAB1sx7yQ/s1600/IMG_2402.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FKZzrugqVo8/U1hk1c2ewuI/AAAAAAAAHdU/JUsuARIMH0Q/s1600/IMG_5838.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FKZzrugqVo8/U1hk1c2ewuI/AAAAAAAAHdU/JUsuARIMH0Q/s1600/IMG_5838.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rzIrjDczF_M/U1hk-SNeq9I/AAAAAAAAHdk/nvm0FnGvHA4/s1600/IMG_6018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rzIrjDczF_M/U1hk-SNeq9I/AAAAAAAAHdk/nvm0FnGvHA4/s1600/IMG_6018.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wF0Rleui-wQ/U1hk4sAaoEI/AAAAAAAAHdc/l8gv00pP7Xo/s1600/IMG_6040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wF0Rleui-wQ/U1hk4sAaoEI/AAAAAAAAHdc/l8gv00pP7Xo/s1600/IMG_6040.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Oc1WdleCFY/U1hlS05XgNI/AAAAAAAAHd0/XRijNw3Tj5U/s1600/IMG_6045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2Oc1WdleCFY/U1hlS05XgNI/AAAAAAAAHd0/XRijNw3Tj5U/s1600/IMG_6045.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-24064667397720347432014-04-29T12:43:00.005-07:002014-04-29T12:54:58.338-07:00Sicily: Part One (Termini Imerese)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NKt7YSLC0c/U1fyJgLdENI/AAAAAAAAHXQ/xrrjbAJRQOA/s1600/IMG_2256.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8NKt7YSLC0c/U1fyJgLdENI/AAAAAAAAHXQ/xrrjbAJRQOA/s1600/IMG_2256.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>This is Termini Imerese in the province of Palermo, Sicily. It's the hometown of my great-grandparents Frank and Rosaria Amato. It's also the town my great-great grandfather Salvatore Amato decided to return to in order to live out his final years after he'd brought all of his sons here to Portland, OR to help them start new lives.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yk2SM19YXfw/U1f05kXNQcI/AAAAAAAAHaA/9Ijom8n1g5Y/s1600/IMG_5682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yk2SM19YXfw/U1f05kXNQcI/AAAAAAAAHaA/9Ijom8n1g5Y/s1600/IMG_5682.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the Falcone-Borsellino Airport which was named after two anti-mafia judges who were murdered on their way into Palermo in 1992. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since childhood, I've longed to return here. Back then I heard stories about Termini from other relatives who'd returned to visit family. I knew I would too, but I'd never imagined it would take this long. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIK_Aq71hfg/U1_150YyFvI/AAAAAAAAHeE/_ehKrh7pcZo/s1600/IMG_6142.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sIK_Aq71hfg/U1_150YyFvI/AAAAAAAAHeE/_ehKrh7pcZo/s1600/IMG_6142.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Rosaria posing at the door to her tiny kitchen empire in SE Portland. She was considered one of the best cooks in the family and time spent at her table was a gift. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'd heard about it from my great-grandma too. If only she could have seen me there! Just thinking about it truly brings tears to my eyes. I flew through the streets of her tiny hometown in our rental car. I think she would have smiled her wide smile and laughed a bit. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then she would have asked if I would be a good Italian girl now. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iEUhIcDExE/U1hTLfazvmI/AAAAAAAAHcM/9x7VX_9ueyU/s1600/IMG_2164.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9iEUhIcDExE/U1hTLfazvmI/AAAAAAAAHcM/9x7VX_9ueyU/s1600/IMG_2164.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our dear rental car. I recommend the 4-door Fiat. Fun car to drive—especially through narrow twisting streets at high speeds. (Oh how I miss those olive trees!)</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As soon as we arrived for our 5 days in Sicily we picked up our rental car and drove to the agricultural area just east of Termini on the opposite side of Monte San Calogero. (More on that below.) It was our home base for this part of our trip. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I9ltzu_eLPc/U1fyZHTt-7I/AAAAAAAAHXo/TcANWYZk6qg/s1600/IMG_2264.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-I9ltzu_eLPc/U1fyZHTt-7I/AAAAAAAAHXo/TcANWYZk6qg/s1600/IMG_2264.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure if this kind of decorative chain would work in the US. I see lawsuit written all over this one.</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Visiting the cemeteries while in Italy is a must—especially if it's your "home turf". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Since many of my family members came here to Portland, Oregon generations ago, I didn't find many Amato family members, but next time I'll make the necessary connections. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's a complicated affair. Sicilian culture and family life is not for the meek, mild or wildly independent. You can't really be part Sicilian because you must dedicate yourself to the lifestyle with gusto and a loyal heart. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For me, this was simply the trip where I went from dipping my toe into the pool to stepping down onto the first and second steps. (Honestly, I was way too emotional to meet relatives.) </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Next time I'll dive. This trip was really just to scout it out. As you'll see, I very much enjoyed myself. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TF-vHfneD20/U1fyYbnzh2I/AAAAAAAAHXg/yvZccV3sHLw/s1600/IMG_2272.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-TF-vHfneD20/U1fyYbnzh2I/AAAAAAAAHXg/yvZccV3sHLw/s1600/IMG_2272.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What a lush <i>Crassula</i>!</td></tr></tbody></table>The cemetery is Termini Imerese was alive with plants and many people were there visiting gravesites.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ww_1vn1nf4/U1fykidpRTI/AAAAAAAAHXw/GbnhVc9Hatg/s1600/IMG_2273.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3ww_1vn1nf4/U1fykidpRTI/AAAAAAAAHXw/GbnhVc9Hatg/s1600/IMG_2273.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Although the island bakes in the summer sun—with scorching sirocco winds from time to time—there <i>are</i> a few tall evergreens in places. (I always look for tall trees.) Overall, the inner island was much greener than I'd expected it to be but it was logged long ago by the Greeks and Romans. It was fun to try and imagine what the original island must have been like botanically but since humans have been living there for so long it's impossible to know.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lAmcqdhfme0/U1fypWxKQGI/AAAAAAAAHX4/fHAKXIp3COI/s1600/IMG_2275.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lAmcqdhfme0/U1fypWxKQGI/AAAAAAAAHX4/fHAKXIp3COI/s1600/IMG_2275.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Sicily is rustic. It is full of folk traditions and simplicity. There are no false pretenses. Everything central to the society and important is hidden, and yet much of life is lived out in the open. Sicily is elaborate and ornate, and yet it is gut wrenchingly brutally honest. <br /><br />Much more is spoken with the eyes and the body than the mouth. That is Sicilian. That's why the island is advertised as "being for poets". It truly is a magical and unique place.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VmjTJHmGMaE/U1fzWgnJ0DI/AAAAAAAAHYk/5R3_ontWuqo/s1600/IMG_2283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VmjTJHmGMaE/U1fzWgnJ0DI/AAAAAAAAHYk/5R3_ontWuqo/s1600/IMG_2283.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Not sure what this succulent was, but it caught my eye. (I'd love to grow one here at home.)<br /><br />The whole cemetery was full of amazing plants, planters, and cut flowers. There were so many unique variations on the same theme.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UQoXLej8EsQ/U1fy2HJi2II/AAAAAAAAHYA/QRj4pWQEMJI/s1600/IMG_2288.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UQoXLej8EsQ/U1fy2HJi2II/AAAAAAAAHYA/QRj4pWQEMJI/s1600/IMG_2288.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Then there was this guy.<br /><br />In his left hand he's holding a pack of cigarettes. I was a bit shocked he wasn't holding coffee in the right hand, but instead, it's eternally posed in such a way as to have a flower inserted into it.<br /><br />I'm sure that his conversation with God is always an interesting one. Sicily is dramatic.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hFu8WGzcfJw/U1fy2vtFsUI/AAAAAAAAHYI/lP9U09d_ov4/s1600/IMG_2292.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hFu8WGzcfJw/U1fy2vtFsUI/AAAAAAAAHYI/lP9U09d_ov4/s1600/IMG_2292.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>This sculpture was my favorite. In addition to the woman's facial expression—which is uniquely Sicilian and deadpan to me—she is admiring the agricultural products still harvested on the island.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4EAz6sbCY2Y/U1_7j6TkNvI/AAAAAAAAHeU/4i4c42T6sxc/s1600/IMG_2293.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4EAz6sbCY2Y/U1_7j6TkNvI/AAAAAAAAHeU/4i4c42T6sxc/s1600/IMG_2293.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>She appears almost uniquely longing for the life of the harvest but is unable to reach it any more. This was really touching to me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oo7Hh2cvz40/U1fzBWNA9KI/AAAAAAAAHYQ/WwUBXKDW4PA/s1600/IMG_2300.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Oo7Hh2cvz40/U1fzBWNA9KI/AAAAAAAAHYQ/WwUBXKDW4PA/s1600/IMG_2300.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>From the top of the hill in town it was truly a vista looking east towards Monte San Calogero.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk9vdZ2cV5o/U1fzyUrDPII/AAAAAAAAHZI/Cfw-t--fp-s/s1600/IMG_2321.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xk9vdZ2cV5o/U1fzyUrDPII/AAAAAAAAHZI/Cfw-t--fp-s/s1600/IMG_2321.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Just a few paces from there we reached a park where many residents promenade.<br /><br />I was of course fond of this broken down concrete baby greeting us at its gates.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-65RylzmiRKw/U1fzodVdlvI/AAAAAAAAHY4/x2CMhwGuI2E/s1600/IMG_2325.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-65RylzmiRKw/U1fzodVdlvI/AAAAAAAAHY4/x2CMhwGuI2E/s1600/IMG_2325.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>I cannot recall the name of this tree but I've seen it before in San Diego, CA. Its orange flowers looked lovely against the shades of terra cotta paint and clear sapphire blue sky. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kTBmfYd5Gg/U1fzxkHpqbI/AAAAAAAAHZA/BiQrX_jL_Cc/s1600/IMG_2330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_kTBmfYd5Gg/U1fzxkHpqbI/AAAAAAAAHZA/BiQrX_jL_Cc/s1600/IMG_2330.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Down below was the older part of town. There is a park there and a square with a gelateria. It's the park I'd seen in postcards depicted in black and white. It's where my Grandma Rosaria had celebrated many festivals as a girl.<br /><br />Of course we went there several times for gelato and while walking and eating I noticed this sweet act of Sicilian plant kindness.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JcluyEObN8Y/U1f0E4bem_I/AAAAAAAAHZQ/vxAEA6irrjo/s1600/IMG_2333.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JcluyEObN8Y/U1f0E4bem_I/AAAAAAAAHZQ/vxAEA6irrjo/s1600/IMG_2333.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>It would have been fun to take more photos of private gardens but in Sicily I didn't like to take many photos without permission.<br /><br />Trust me, if you've been there and you care and respect the people, you'll know exactly what I mean. You just don't walk around taking lots of pictures. It makes you stand out and that's the last thing you want to do.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IXIghTlzVQU/U1f09G8ESnI/AAAAAAAAHaQ/7rKSS2iUrjI/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IXIghTlzVQU/U1f09G8ESnI/AAAAAAAAHaQ/7rKSS2iUrjI/s1600/IMG_2342.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">For many generations my male family members were greengrocers and I very much wanted to see how that had come to pass. During this trip, the greatest joy was seeing the trade still fully functioning in a modern world.</td></tr></tbody></table>Leaving Termini this is what you see if you head east and up the valley where we were staying. In the distance, many small truck farmer plots can be seen. For generations this is how farming has worked in this part of Sicily. I've read accounts of this kind of agriculture in other parts of Italy too, but it's not as common nowadays.<br /><br />The most difficult part was that it is still a job and a lifestyle for men. In Sicily there is still a <i>very wide</i> gender divide and women only tend to small planters and garden plots attached to their own homes.<br /><br />I should add that you don't see many women at all. There are some working, but there are many you don't see because they're at home. Even those who are working, are often behind the scenes, unseen.<br /><br />The mother where we stayed did all of the cooking, yet she remained hidden the whole time we stayed there. I caught a glance of her one evening, but she saw me and went back inside of her room.<br /><br />This was a familiar arrangement to me, but I can't deny how torn it made me feel. On the other hand, it helped me to better understand my own family.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuGLXD16jjA/U1f1ZJVJWsI/AAAAAAAAHao/ts9ffL1mDwU/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YuGLXD16jjA/U1f1ZJVJWsI/AAAAAAAAHao/ts9ffL1mDwU/s1600/IMG_5709.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>The view of Monte San Calogero from our room was breathtaking. The scent of the artichoke farms in the morning is something I'll never forget. This place was already imprinted on me but being there fleshed it all out for me. I have never felt so at home.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jeLUnZwD44I/U1f1RoQVN7I/AAAAAAAAHag/TwwYuYMciMs/s1600/IMG_5717.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jeLUnZwD44I/U1f1RoQVN7I/AAAAAAAAHag/TwwYuYMciMs/s1600/IMG_5717.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Just for contrast, this is a town in the interior of Sicily. I stopped to take this photo on our way from an ancient Roman villa to see Greek temples in Agrigento.<br /><br />I know many people love Tuscany, but I'm Sicilian and I'll never stop loving the light, the colors, the sounds, the tastes, and the silence of the people of Sicily. It's in my blood. It's an even larger part of me than I'd known until I visited there.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kJcH7_AqfXY/U1f1PwNVWZI/AAAAAAAAHaY/1VPj6uqDMhk/s1600/IMG_5747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kJcH7_AqfXY/U1f1PwNVWZI/AAAAAAAAHaY/1VPj6uqDMhk/s1600/IMG_5747.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Yes, Sicily gave Italy cannolo(i), gelato(i), and sorbetto(i) too. Don't believe me? Look it up! For this reason alone I'll take Sicily over the rest of Italy. It's such a rich place culturally and it's so unlike any other place in the world.<br /><br />It may have been invaded many times, and it's been ruled by many people, but that's what makes it so unique. My own DNA shows signs of the island's rich genetic and cultural history. Where else do you find Greek, Italian, Middle Eastern, North African, Spanish, and French influences blended together? Nowhere else!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VFK7T6Lf9V8/U1f1p3j2PHI/AAAAAAAAHbA/YBsLt1FTRpk/s1600/IMG_5758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VFK7T6Lf9V8/U1f1p3j2PHI/AAAAAAAAHbA/YBsLt1FTRpk/s1600/IMG_5758.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Each night we returned to our room at the farm.<br /><br />Our room was at one end, and at the other, some young Sicilian men returned each evening from working somewhere in the area on the artichoke harvest.<br /><br />Normally you'd say 'Hi' or acknowledge another with a nod. Because I'm a married woman, for several days they pretended not to see me. It felt strange, but I knew the game.<br /><br />One day the obvious leader of the group said 'Hi' to me very nervously in English. I was sitting in a common area near where we all ate. It was the only spot in the place with Wifi and I was alone. It was obvious he didn't know much more English than that so he then laughed nervously and hurried off.<br /><br />After that, a few others in the group cast me sideways glances, but out of respect, they never said anything more. By the time our visit was ending, I felt very safe around them. That's how Sicily works. It's all about trust and respect. They respected me, and it led me to trust them more. This means everything to a Sicilian and I enjoyed the interaction immensely.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lN1WrKO3ucs/U1f1msy2y9I/AAAAAAAAHa4/yB0I5GGvykY/s1600/IMG_5764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lN1WrKO3ucs/U1f1msy2y9I/AAAAAAAAHa4/yB0I5GGvykY/s1600/IMG_5764.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>We also went to Cefalù and saw what sanitized and safe tourist-friendly Sicily looks like and I loved it there as well. The intensity of personal interactions was lessened dramatically and we walked around freely without the eyes of the people upon us. (We also had a lovely married couple comedy routine in Italian with a local cheesemonger while we were there. John and I made the young man crack up and I felt like we were really fitting in just fine.)<br /><br />I was also able to take this photo of a produce vendor. The old donkey carts my family used have been replaced with these little trucks. As you drive around the Palermo area you see them everywhere. They have the freshest produce in them and they get to market quickly. They simply pull up to the street, park and vend.<br /><br />And <i>of course</i> that little truck had fresh local artichokes! So glad we ate them in a zillion dishes at the Agriturismo La Targa Florio.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wJtFYwHGSAw/U1f2jaBnT9I/AAAAAAAAHb4/JskIusjquAc/s1600/IMG_5784.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wJtFYwHGSAw/U1f2jaBnT9I/AAAAAAAAHb4/JskIusjquAc/s1600/IMG_5784.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Oh the fresh artichokes of Sicily!<br /><br />I won't soon forget you and your sister the mythical ancient pistachio of Bronte.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>To be continued...</i></div><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-37367232398008071252014-04-23T10:55:00.003-07:002014-04-23T11:05:20.592-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Green Peeks from Sicily, Italy (Sicilia, Italia) <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nxg0lqdC5ng/U1fxIg_1uaI/AAAAAAAAHWE/lXUy2SafNVE/s1600/IMG_2192.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Nxg0lqdC5ng/U1fxIg_1uaI/AAAAAAAAHWE/lXUy2SafNVE/s1600/IMG_2192.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tassel Hyacinth aka <i>Muscari comosa</i> or<i> Leopoldia comosa</i>. (Photo taken at Villa Romana del Casale.) </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0NhQKHUTzs0/U1fxRG3wxBI/AAAAAAAAHWU/XXndAaLuO3A/s1600/IMG_2196.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0NhQKHUTzs0/U1fxRG3wxBI/AAAAAAAAHWU/XXndAaLuO3A/s1600/IMG_2196.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Possibly date palm—let me know if you can identify it. (Photo taken at Villa Romana del Casale.)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9vIY4b_NU3A/U1fxf46zRyI/AAAAAAAAHWc/MAc0Ny_uut8/s1600/IMG_2208.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9vIY4b_NU3A/U1fxf46zRyI/AAAAAAAAHWc/MAc0Ny_uut8/s1600/IMG_2208.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of many<i> Cercis siliquastrum</i> seen blooming in Sicily in April. (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at the garden wall of Alexander Hardcastle's home.) </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I3oxRCXx4Us/U1fx2hYPPaI/AAAAAAAAHW0/Sab14VhUGjk/s1600/IMG_2240.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I3oxRCXx4Us/U1fx2hYPPaI/AAAAAAAAHW0/Sab14VhUGjk/s1600/IMG_2240.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely <i>Bougainvillea</i>. (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at Alexander Hardcastle's home.) </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-8Om-GJUEw/U1fx8K_iXTI/AAAAAAAAHW8/SY3lYpNZ08o/s1600/IMG_2243.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-8Om-GJUEw/U1fx8K_iXTI/AAAAAAAAHW8/SY3lYpNZ08o/s1600/IMG_2243.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Please don't prune your <i>Asparagus</i> to look like this. (Photo taken in the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento at Alexander Hardcastle's home.) </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbGLbh8AzVc/U1fzD-vw--I/AAAAAAAAHYU/WRaXH2FEQWQ/s1600/IMG_2294.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bbGLbh8AzVc/U1fzD-vw--I/AAAAAAAAHYU/WRaXH2FEQWQ/s1600/IMG_2294.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unknown tree. (Photo taken at the cimitero in Termini Imerese.)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJ75GbwHTjo/U1fzWmbB6AI/AAAAAAAAHYg/_5_TXLimYpo/s1600/IMG_2303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RJ75GbwHTjo/U1fzWmbB6AI/AAAAAAAAHYg/_5_TXLimYpo/s1600/IMG_2303.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">More palm trees and lovely handmade pebble paving from the streets of Termini Imerese. (This was the home of my great-grandparents.)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D-H9XCYYJMQ/U1fzXd-_3YI/AAAAAAAAHYo/191PQp_ifqw/s1600/IMG_2314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D-H9XCYYJMQ/U1fzXd-_3YI/AAAAAAAAHYo/191PQp_ifqw/s1600/IMG_2314.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trees in the city park in Termini Imerese. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c7mA9qBWF2A/U1f0OBsNKfI/AAAAAAAAHZc/VU0E9zAcNP8/s1600/IMG_2331.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c7mA9qBWF2A/U1f0OBsNKfI/AAAAAAAAHZc/VU0E9zAcNP8/s1600/IMG_2331.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely large <i>Lantana</i> along the street in Termini Imerese.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUSfHPZd1ko/U1f0I0D9A2I/AAAAAAAAHZU/WT124VHvmE4/s1600/IMG_2337.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kUSfHPZd1ko/U1f0I0D9A2I/AAAAAAAAHZU/WT124VHvmE4/s1600/IMG_2337.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caster bean (<i>Ricinus communis</i>) plants grow wild along the roads in Sicily. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HPrIbsBV53g/U1f0kUWO0OI/AAAAAAAAHZk/Q_cgTxT3mmQ/s1600/IMG_2339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HPrIbsBV53g/U1f0kUWO0OI/AAAAAAAAHZk/Q_cgTxT3mmQ/s1600/IMG_2339.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artichokes (<i>Cynara cardunculus</i> var. <i>scolymus</i>) growing along the road.) </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YAG2H78gnvU/U1f0nVACqMI/AAAAAAAAHZw/pQoaxfbkIK4/s1600/IMG_2340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YAG2H78gnvU/U1f0nVACqMI/AAAAAAAAHZw/pQoaxfbkIK4/s1600/IMG_2340.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Borage (<i>Borago officinalis</i>) growing wild along the side of the road in Sicily. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rVVTGvjO3Qc/U1f0nbJc6OI/AAAAAAAAHZs/LouLy5hMiuU/s1600/IMG_2341.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rVVTGvjO3Qc/U1f0nbJc6OI/AAAAAAAAHZs/LouLy5hMiuU/s1600/IMG_2341.JPG" height="235" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild <i>Sedum</i> growing along the roadside near Termini Imerese. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCEmPGUoXqc/U1f07_UMsjI/AAAAAAAAHaE/ZvHYmS8pGO0/s1600/IMG_5688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fCEmPGUoXqc/U1f07_UMsjI/AAAAAAAAHaE/ZvHYmS8pGO0/s1600/IMG_5688.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild snapdragon (<i>Antirrhinum majus</i>) growing in its native environs. My husband told me that in Italian they're called "mouth of the lion". He played a lot with these flowers as a boy. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GsaxSzzPBNM/U1f1wq3OaPI/AAAAAAAAHbE/iaSngyrE_YI/s1600/IMG_5769.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-GsaxSzzPBNM/U1f1wq3OaPI/AAAAAAAAHbE/iaSngyrE_YI/s1600/IMG_5769.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not exactly sure of the plant, but I do recognize Sicilian ingenuity. If Dad gardened, this is how he'd stake his plants.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dSvnKT_DsUw/U1f13WUWvvI/AAAAAAAAHbM/BoL7qNsFfCI/s1600/IMG_5776.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dSvnKT_DsUw/U1f13WUWvvI/AAAAAAAAHbM/BoL7qNsFfCI/s1600/IMG_5776.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Convolvulus tricolor</i> growing wild in Sicily. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-28326934459022154512014-04-02T10:53:00.003-07:002014-04-02T10:56:34.968-07:00Wordless Wednesday: To Push the Garden Boundaries<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Sj0bhORo5s/UzxJVy5JoTI/AAAAAAAAHTs/Vo2g2Wfsf0o/s1600/IMG_5619.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0Sj0bhORo5s/UzxJVy5JoTI/AAAAAAAAHTs/Vo2g2Wfsf0o/s1600/IMG_5619.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Winter Loss = New Possibilities. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VMAhjkqJLVo/UzxJYCOQjzI/AAAAAAAAHT4/LRXRdma9_aM/s1600/IMG_5618.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VMAhjkqJLVo/UzxJYCOQjzI/AAAAAAAAHT4/LRXRdma9_aM/s1600/IMG_5618.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reviving the raised bed and kitchen garden. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d2WW34ik9BU/UzxJIcX2psI/AAAAAAAAHTo/k3BOdbmqZh0/s1600/IMG_5611.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d2WW34ik9BU/UzxJIcX2psI/AAAAAAAAHTo/k3BOdbmqZh0/s1600/IMG_5611.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some stratified seeds from this season.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ETimmu7bHyA/UzxI9X7lzlI/AAAAAAAAHTY/ZZGsl33vQPQ/s1600/IMG_5613.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ETimmu7bHyA/UzxI9X7lzlI/AAAAAAAAHTY/ZZGsl33vQPQ/s1600/IMG_5613.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Awaiting the garden fence solution. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-62RXH1bg0rk/UzxJAviLYSI/AAAAAAAAHTg/H4nmHqQ-W4s/s1600/IMG_5615.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-62RXH1bg0rk/UzxJAviLYSI/AAAAAAAAHTg/H4nmHqQ-W4s/s1600/IMG_5615.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RIGtBmSYMDE/UzxH9Lz1oDI/AAAAAAAAHSc/JycV0koDfuA/s1600/IMG_5555.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RIGtBmSYMDE/UzxH9Lz1oDI/AAAAAAAAHSc/JycV0koDfuA/s1600/IMG_5555.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mIKQmJbWl2c/UzxH4Ap1npI/AAAAAAAAHSU/PNm4Gv7EdZA/s1600/IMG_5571.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mIKQmJbWl2c/UzxH4Ap1npI/AAAAAAAAHSU/PNm4Gv7EdZA/s1600/IMG_5571.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UMaURIwUD9Q/UzxIUzdPpeI/AAAAAAAAHS4/eMFeIpY782A/s1600/IMG_5577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UMaURIwUD9Q/UzxIUzdPpeI/AAAAAAAAHS4/eMFeIpY782A/s1600/IMG_5577.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k3JGvt1Nszo/UzxIUAbKrOI/AAAAAAAAHSs/wsJRYNLvas0/s1600/IMG_5581.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k3JGvt1Nszo/UzxIUAbKrOI/AAAAAAAAHSs/wsJRYNLvas0/s1600/IMG_5581.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uX4QOxrIY98/UzxIUDBUGUI/AAAAAAAAHSw/fzVz63q-Yu8/s1600/IMG_5602.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uX4QOxrIY98/UzxIUDBUGUI/AAAAAAAAHSw/fzVz63q-Yu8/s1600/IMG_5602.jpg" height="400" width="312" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow Venetian glass vase. Venice on my mind. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60OssPpzNaw/UzxIjGbH0RI/AAAAAAAAHTE/pzGxo60anqM/s1600/IMG_5606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-60OssPpzNaw/UzxIjGbH0RI/AAAAAAAAHTE/pzGxo60anqM/s1600/IMG_5606.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seedlings in the basement. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BUWJr6aPOw/UzxIk9aDLRI/AAAAAAAAHTM/A5SYkVSx_8s/s1600/IMG_5610.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3BUWJr6aPOw/UzxIk9aDLRI/AAAAAAAAHTM/A5SYkVSx_8s/s1600/IMG_5610.JPG" height="335" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-40330082731896947952014-03-14T00:40:00.000-07:002014-03-14T00:55:27.459-07:00Digging in the Roots: A Pre-Spring Reverie <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEJOmhhcPko/UyKcSb5mh-I/AAAAAAAAHQs/T4AET5hmytE/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZEJOmhhcPko/UyKcSb5mh-I/AAAAAAAAHQs/T4AET5hmytE/s1600/IMG_5414.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Viola odorata. </i></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After work tonight my husband and I walked to the grocery store. Along the way I plucked a few stray <i>Viola odorata</i> blooms and then cupped them in my left palm like small birds. From time to time—passing the halal markets and medical marijuana storefronts—I held my hand to my nose and drew in their scent. I instinctively wanted to bite into my violets because my brain recognized their sweet scent as a favorite candy. But I didn't. Instead I walked along enjoying the moment thinking about how much I love plants—especially sensual plants. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rXlieJyskxQ/UyKb1DEnKoI/AAAAAAAAHP4/3fPOE8cSLq8/s1600/IMG_5297.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rXlieJyskxQ/UyKb1DEnKoI/AAAAAAAAHP4/3fPOE8cSLq8/s1600/IMG_5297.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Here at home the seedlings are growing in their little pots and plugs. I'm keeping up with my planting schedule (for the most part) but I'm not certain if I'll be able to finish things up before we leave for Italy.<br /><br />We have a housesitting plan, a cat sitter, and a seedling sitter.<br /><br />(I think that it's wonderful to know there are friends available to help you with your plants, don't you?)<br /><br />Whatever doesn't get planted, at least I can buy at a local nursery. Portland is blessed with so many plant nurseries. [Sigh.]<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vHRMmPADE4A/UyKb1DTI-TI/AAAAAAAAHP8/7C8Rdqv4fs4/s1600/IMG_5374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vHRMmPADE4A/UyKb1DTI-TI/AAAAAAAAHP8/7C8Rdqv4fs4/s1600/IMG_5374.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my favorite images from the <a href="http://www.ygpshow.com/">Yard, Garden & Patio Show</a>.</td></tr></tbody></table>I made it to the <a href="http://www.ygpshow.com/">Yard, Garden & Patio Show</a> a few weeks ago here in Portland. (I hadn't been in years!) It was a fantastic experience and I hope to post pictures from it eventually, but I know, I've said that in the past.<br /><br />I mean it this time. It will happen. I will post the pictures.<br /><br />This pledge is happening because I've been taking my writing more seriously. Being paid to write is a wonderful thing. Thanks to being able to work at doing what I love, a recent goal I've acknowledged is to finally organize my photos. This will help me professionally too. I can't wait to share them.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__yMyTnkFys/UyKbwtLLFiI/AAAAAAAAHPw/loEWE5PprxQ/s1600/IMG_5399.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-__yMyTnkFys/UyKbwtLLFiI/AAAAAAAAHPw/loEWE5PprxQ/s1600/IMG_5399.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>The plant room has been cleaned out again—for what I hope will be the last time. It is looking better and better but there is still much work to do. Last weekend the compact fluorescent light that has been keeping my plants alive for a few years popped and blew out. That's one more unexpected garden expense that needs to be attended to but it's worth it! That room is cheerful during the dreary and rainy months because of that light and those plants bring so much life into the dead of winter.<br /><br />This is probably the reason why Mona (the partially feral cat) lives in that room now. She's always loved it back there but now it's her room—at least that is until is warms up enough to be outside all day.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CFQVDNzV2Q8/UyKcKaiZN9I/AAAAAAAAHQQ/RS1johHAQfE/s1600/IMG_5410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CFQVDNzV2Q8/UyKcKaiZN9I/AAAAAAAAHQQ/RS1johHAQfE/s1600/IMG_5410.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Yesterday I made it outside for a bit. It was the first work I'd done in the garden in a long time. My health has not been great. I had a bad infection for several weeks last month but I toughed it out and am ok now. I'm amazed by how easily I lose my strength and conditioning. I feel strong when I exercise regularly and walk a lot but after a few months off I feel as though I have to begin all over again.<br /><br />Luckily, it's worth it. The benefits of exercise for me are undeniable. Nothing makes chronic pain go away more than exercise. I guess it really is important to stay limber.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-josua9G80g0/UyKcRP4l4XI/AAAAAAAAHQg/74eQbl7cmpE/s1600/Scan.jpg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-josua9G80g0/UyKcRP4l4XI/AAAAAAAAHQg/74eQbl7cmpE/s1600/Scan.jpg.jpg" height="400" width="205" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Happy (early) St Patrick's Day!</td></tr></tbody></table>Since I won't be here again until after Monday I thought I'd leave you with this. I was born an Annie, and internally, I'll always be a little redhead named Annie. There's just a wee bit of Irish in me, can you tell? And I do love the color green, now don't I?<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><i>(This post is dedicated to <a href="http://www.catholicsentinel.org/main.asp?SectionID=2&SubSectionID=35&ArticleID=20418">Father Cathal Brennan</a>. RIP I still miss you very much.)</i></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-akdiYbYpMPU/UyK1cOBJjTI/AAAAAAAAHQ4/Tegnqd5GSLQ/s1600/IMG_1720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-akdiYbYpMPU/UyK1cOBJjTI/AAAAAAAAHQ4/Tegnqd5GSLQ/s1600/IMG_1720.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My mom with Father Brennan. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-22322167052069381242014-02-07T13:27:00.000-08:002014-02-07T13:27:01.251-08:00Pacific Northwest Flower & Garden Show (An Introduction)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's been a few years but I'm back! Coming up here to Seattle from Portland has reminded me why I missed coming to the Pacific Northwest Flower & Garden Show so much. I guess it'd been so long I'd nearly forgotten. Sure I missed one heck of a snow storm, but it was worth it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here are a few highlights with more posts to come because I'm still really enjoying the show. I'm going to seminars, and after I hit "publish" I'm off to look at some books. (Later tonight I'll return to the restaurant where I first learned how to eat with chopsticks as a teen—but that's another post.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-62H2bE-wvVI/UvVDC1giECI/AAAAAAAAHOU/Nu4iqCFeC9E/s1600/IMG_5185.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-62H2bE-wvVI/UvVDC1giECI/AAAAAAAAHOU/Nu4iqCFeC9E/s1600/IMG_5185.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The show in Seattle is just edgy enough to have a neon-style light in a log on the ground in the garden. I have no idea yet how much this would cost, but I want it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8m_3nOPdVwU/UvVC1XgHkII/AAAAAAAAHMs/xbRfFTMgNGA/s1600/IMG_1816.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8m_3nOPdVwU/UvVC1XgHkII/AAAAAAAAHMs/xbRfFTMgNGA/s1600/IMG_1816.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>There is glass here. This is Chihuly Territory after all and his work has inspired many to take up the craft and I'm eternally grateful for their work.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6NJnI4XjPt4/UvVC1O4nonI/AAAAAAAAHMo/-BMsRFTQMb4/s1600/IMG_1818.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6NJnI4XjPt4/UvVC1O4nonI/AAAAAAAAHMo/-BMsRFTQMb4/s1600/IMG_1818.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>There is nothing more reminiscent to me of the PNW style than huge trees and rusty metal. This is a refined nod to the logging industry if ever I saw one and to the great resource which although now managed, is something that still inspires awe in all who experience it. That's why each and every year the ancient woods are brought into the convention center. I've missed these homages.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_vQ4w9W3_wo/UvVC5P8WMMI/AAAAAAAAHNI/XoeUOgD-HAg/s1600/IMG_1873.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_vQ4w9W3_wo/UvVC5P8WMMI/AAAAAAAAHNI/XoeUOgD-HAg/s1600/IMG_1873.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Whimsy? Not always my thing but I burst out laughing when I saw this bat house. My former foster children would have loved this.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0RzAnN2pLGw/UvVC4AkT3mI/AAAAAAAAHNA/rAewZvcnX0o/s1600/IMG_1897.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0RzAnN2pLGw/UvVC4AkT3mI/AAAAAAAAHNA/rAewZvcnX0o/s1600/IMG_1897.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EFhP_DFruOs/UvVDDW7UO6I/AAAAAAAAHOY/aZJsU8auP8c/s1600/IMG_5188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EFhP_DFruOs/UvVDDW7UO6I/AAAAAAAAHOY/aZJsU8auP8c/s1600/IMG_5188.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>There is always something that appeals to the over-the-top Italian side of me. This garden display cured my wintertime blues and made me crave a glass of limoncello.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQ7iTbRRWgk/UvVC9doa22I/AAAAAAAAHNY/QOti2X_YyU0/s1600/IMG_1916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FQ7iTbRRWgk/UvVC9doa22I/AAAAAAAAHNY/QOti2X_YyU0/s1600/IMG_1916.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>As someone who specialized in modernism as an art history student I understand it and its midcentury relative well. It's not my style because I'm too wild and flamboyant to live in it, but I love seeing it and being in it when it's in another's home.<br /><br />It's calming to see the lines all "just right".<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rLmBF-kKB1I/UvVC-J9-nqI/AAAAAAAAHNg/rUAk5OfH1SI/s1600/IMG_1935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-rLmBF-kKB1I/UvVC-J9-nqI/AAAAAAAAHNg/rUAk5OfH1SI/s1600/IMG_1935.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div> Seeing the simplest joys and pleasures on display here make me tingle.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WGK-2EQxMY0/UvVC-pkfeTI/AAAAAAAAHNk/JQ1ajb1SI2E/s1600/IMG_1945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WGK-2EQxMY0/UvVC-pkfeTI/AAAAAAAAHNk/JQ1ajb1SI2E/s1600/IMG_1945.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Then there is what I would do. Luckily I cannot afford a giant glass pavilion with an art orchid made of glass and metal in it. Was it my favorite display garden? Yes. The huge glass <i>Sarracenia</i>? Well what do you think? This was amazing to behold. It could be in a museum.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ETRlNw5-QHw/UvVDAqgs-CI/AAAAAAAAHNw/x0jc4WYiU1g/s1600/IMG_1977.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ETRlNw5-QHw/UvVDAqgs-CI/AAAAAAAAHNw/x0jc4WYiU1g/s1600/IMG_1977.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>I should add that I come here for the hotel too—at least this time around. Let's just say that my husband really likes to spoil himself with a nice hotel so this trip I actually have marble tile on my bathroom floor. Did the show spoil us rotten with a great discount at the Fairmont Olympic? Absolutely. Will I take high tea tomorrow with our extra discount? Definitely.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ofV9CR0UZQk/UvVDBCDmHNI/AAAAAAAAHN0/Ep9b8bcpWXQ/s1600/IMG_1984.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ofV9CR0UZQk/UvVDBCDmHNI/AAAAAAAAHN0/Ep9b8bcpWXQ/s1600/IMG_1984.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>I think one of these is going home to the family house on the river. It only seems appropriate when you have salmon spawning behind your house.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XheJ-ARfBlQ/UvVDBWbdK9I/AAAAAAAAHN8/RSRexqgxqaY/s1600/IMG_1986.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XheJ-ARfBlQ/UvVDBWbdK9I/AAAAAAAAHN8/RSRexqgxqaY/s1600/IMG_1986.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Not something I'd put in my garden, but I would love to see these in lieu of other options in other gardens. Variety is good. I think they're fun and I would love to slam that arrow on the front of my house so that people would walk around that way but it might be an overstatement. (I'm pretty sure there might be something more "subtle" I could do too.)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ia50egjtMAU/UvVDDbVWRvI/AAAAAAAAHOM/ske_LIt7XtM/s1600/IMG_5186.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Ia50egjtMAU/UvVDDbVWRvI/AAAAAAAAHOM/ske_LIt7XtM/s1600/IMG_5186.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Miniature gardens are in the show as well. They aren't for me, but my husband is now eager to make a few. I'm excited to see what he makes and I would love to have one. I just wouldn't know where to begin. John has loved other types of miniatures for years so I know he'll make something wonderful.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-egACubRxpOs/UvVDETLGn2I/AAAAAAAAHOg/csKZIZpruvQ/s1600/IMG_5191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-egACubRxpOs/UvVDETLGn2I/AAAAAAAAHOg/csKZIZpruvQ/s1600/IMG_5191.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>This is a stake you can add to a planter pot and I loved it. (Gotta have my bling.) We do live in a rainy region so we might as well celebrate it.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6hRid8YRHJ8/UvVDF6Snl6I/AAAAAAAAHOs/k6ZNnjfw2Zw/s1600/IMG_5210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6hRid8YRHJ8/UvVDF6Snl6I/AAAAAAAAHOs/k6ZNnjfw2Zw/s1600/IMG_5210.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Yesterday I didn't buy much but I came back to the hotel last night after a long day with a few free plants from a reception. I was grateful.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xe9KqsuQbA0/UvVDFvW71ZI/AAAAAAAAHOo/cDuqFu3Jp5Q/s1600/IMG_5212.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Xe9KqsuQbA0/UvVDFvW71ZI/AAAAAAAAHOo/cDuqFu3Jp5Q/s1600/IMG_5212.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>My husband John got to take a silly picture of me. That's his takeaway from the event. (You can tell I'm amused.) I'm afraid this is a word that pops out of my mouth from time to time and he does tease me about it a lot. Again, I love the silliness.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1zl35sWq6B8/UvVDHiYwP2I/AAAAAAAAHO8/Z7yDZVfd4jg/s1600/IMG_5219.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1zl35sWq6B8/UvVDHiYwP2I/AAAAAAAAHO8/Z7yDZVfd4jg/s1600/IMG_5219.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>Then there is ikebana too.<br /><br />I miss making arrangements but I'll be back at it again soon.<br /><br />(More to come with A LOT more detail. I just wanted to post a few pictures.) </div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-838383143295855622014-01-31T00:51:00.001-08:002014-01-31T00:59:21.683-08:00Anticipating Springtime <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nZjrdo9xbSE/UutAJwtDjGI/AAAAAAAAHJU/2upwnzhB_2M/s1600/IMG_5151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nZjrdo9xbSE/UutAJwtDjGI/AAAAAAAAHJU/2upwnzhB_2M/s1600/IMG_5151.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font: 10.1px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>Galanthus elwesii.</i></div></td></tr></tbody></table>This past weekend I worked outside for a few hours. There is much debris yet to pick up before the daffodils fully emerge from the ground and I've more pruning to do.<br /><div><br /></div><div>The temperatures were chilly, but it was sunny, and the back garden looks a bit better now thanks to the effort.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SUcRjoIQa4/Uus_W_C-MiI/AAAAAAAAHIc/QRwI7Ri-H60/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0SUcRjoIQa4/Uus_W_C-MiI/AAAAAAAAHIc/QRwI7Ri-H60/s1600/IMG_5101.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Container ships waiting near the mouth of the Columbia River to be driven over the Columbia Bar by one of the bar pilots. It's dangerous work and from this restaurant window we can watch as the pilots are escorted out to the vessels. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The weekend before that we were able to escape for an extended mini-vacation—but I had to take my work along with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I worked a lot, but we somehow found the time to visit my maternal grandmother in Aberdeen (WA) one day, and we went to Astoria (OR) the day beforehand. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g8WSYAFpLmg/Uus_X2ZIdwI/AAAAAAAAHIg/Xw9DT69ZruY/s1600/IMG_5091.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g8WSYAFpLmg/Uus_X2ZIdwI/AAAAAAAAHIg/Xw9DT69ZruY/s1600/IMG_5091.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>It's rarely this clear and sunny during January so I took John up to the <a href="http://www.astoriacolumn.org/">Astoria Column</a>. (It is quite a landmark and I was surprised when he told me he'd never been there.) The views were breathtaking that day.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9NCuMsfS9A/Uus_MZGNQZI/AAAAAAAAHII/ZLaT1wa8OiA/s1600/IMG_5095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a9NCuMsfS9A/Uus_MZGNQZI/AAAAAAAAHII/ZLaT1wa8OiA/s1600/IMG_5095.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Looking southward (sort of) you see Youngs Bay. This is one of my all-time favorite views. Somehow, it always appears to me to look a bit like a painting.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YhBJR9axm8k/Uus_kRljdvI/AAAAAAAAHIo/7ihlfhv10dw/s1600/IMG_5125.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YhBJR9axm8k/Uus_kRljdvI/AAAAAAAAHIo/7ihlfhv10dw/s1600/IMG_5125.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Anticipating springtime. </td></tr></tbody></table>Back at the house in Portland, life continues to change and we're all adapting to the new vitality being breathed into our home. John is a lot of fun and has his own ways about him. He's a special man to have moved into a place that is so mine, but we're working to make it his too.<br /><br />The most interesting adaptation we're currently going through is that the youngest cat (the partially feral one) is moving in upstairs. As she has aged, she has changed. It has been interesting to observe her as she's gone through a lot these past few years. Often, I find her hiding in plants like this just staring at me as I work. I stare back at her and she looks away. I suppose she is working too. I don't really know for certain. She observes the garden for hours on end. <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zXS1JaZack8/Uus_n794bSI/AAAAAAAAHI0/CxvTre0xa_g/s1600/IMG_5127.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zXS1JaZack8/Uus_n794bSI/AAAAAAAAHI0/CxvTre0xa_g/s1600/IMG_5127.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>There have been some major territorial adjustments but the two female cats are respecting one another for the first time. (Maurice goes wherever he wants. It's best that way—but nowadays he limps and doesn't move around nearly as much.)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mIiV1JIUiAY/Uus_xfLXizI/AAAAAAAAHI4/hCLDOjYTbDQ/s1600/IMG_5143.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mIiV1JIUiAY/Uus_xfLXizI/AAAAAAAAHI4/hCLDOjYTbDQ/s1600/IMG_5143.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mona tends to sit on furniture more and more and the ground less. </td></tr></tbody></table>Indoors, Mona likes to be around the plants because she is used to living under them during the outdoor half of her year. She seeks them out in her daily routine.<br /><br />She's anticipating spring and follows me outdoors to spend time with me as I work. I never dreamed she'd shadow me so much. She is very much a loner cat but she's changing. I'm honored but it's more about her than me.<br /><br />John is getting to know her more as well. He rarely saw her before but now they see one another everyday and he's able to spend time petting her.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sK2FEB5aPU/UutAsdZ520I/AAAAAAAAHJg/5EYuWdhc1IY/s1600/IMG_5145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sK2FEB5aPU/UutAsdZ520I/AAAAAAAAHJg/5EYuWdhc1IY/s1600/IMG_5145.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>When I work indoors—writing and cooking as a ghostblogger for a food blog—she sits near my feet.<br /><br />This is a big change for me. The other two cats are too old now to remain so alert to my movements all day. Maurice used to always be by my side, but now it's Mona. This is a change. </div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8pImmWjuQxk/Uus__xcJm6I/AAAAAAAAHJA/Po6QqCG9UjE/s1600/IMG_5147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8pImmWjuQxk/Uus__xcJm6I/AAAAAAAAHJA/Po6QqCG9UjE/s1600/IMG_5147.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font: 10.1px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>Sedum spathulifolium.</i></div></td></tr></tbody></table>Life is still a bit uncertain for me professionally as I try to manage working and serious chronic health issues. I miss my time spent at home, but it was very difficult for me to be living without career fulfillment. I grew tired of struggling to get by, and of working so hard to stay afloat, but it has been a humbling experience. I'm grateful.<br /><br />The garden is seen differently now, but I'm at least seeing it again. The thought of losing it in the divorce made the sight of it excruciatingly painful. I now deeply admire those others who've gone through that kind of dissolution. I'm not ready to move on from here, but my time will come. Until then, I want to see my dreams and plans come to life outside.<br /><br />I miss my garden though because I work a lot now and in order to be able to work I need to exercise a lot to keep the pain under control. The absolute pleasure and peace gardening gave me is now at odds with the reality of living a real life, but I am learning how to cope. It is an opportunity I never was given. I'm reintegrating gardening and am starting seeds again. I'm determined that this place will be reborn again soon.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQe9DckleN8/UutABBXeIzI/AAAAAAAAHJI/YHTu27FCPWI/s1600/IMG_5148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQe9DckleN8/UutABBXeIzI/AAAAAAAAHJI/YHTu27FCPWI/s1600/IMG_5148.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="font: 10.1px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>Lewisia columbiana ssp. rupicola.</i></div></td></tr></tbody></table>That's why I'm set to rebuild it. I've been pulling the garden alongside me during the journey as I've been rebuilding myself during these past two years. As time has passed, and as I've struggle with its passage, how could I not think of the garden?<br /><br />Freelance writing work is not easy to find and I was blessed with my current job. It's amazing and I know it's the right thing for me to be doing. Being a part-time caregiver is becoming more difficult though. I'm growing to the point now where I want to be away from illness. I live in both worlds, but I still want to belong to the living for a bit longer. I know exactly what I have to look forward to in the future, but right now, it's my time.<br /><br />It took the experience of a difficult client telling me repeatedly that I was there to provide her comfort and to take care of her needs. She repeatedly told me I was doing a poor job. Something inside of me rose up and rebelled. I'm in control of my own comfort and needs right now and I'm going to keep making better and more informed decisions so that I will land in a better place soon. I also realized that I was a damned good caregiver. She simply wasn't the right client for me.<br /><br />I'm growing in ways I wasn't able to grow.<br /><br />I'm carving out more time to write too. I cannot wait to see what publishing some of my own work will do for me as a person. It's all I ever wanted out of life and it's accomplishable now. Part of me will be at peace soon after settling that score.<br /><br />Writing more—more than anything else—will heal some large wounds for me.<br /><br />I've always been a writer at heart who just so happens to garden and love plants.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-643iSqmR1RU/UutAN-0Jz1I/AAAAAAAAHJY/hwnAWnHtKTE/s1600/IMG_5153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-643iSqmR1RU/UutAN-0Jz1I/AAAAAAAAHJY/hwnAWnHtKTE/s1600/IMG_5153.jpg" height="400" width="387" /></a></div>Lastly, as I go along plotting all these things out, my mind continues to go in and out of the garden and my plans for it—I mean <i>our</i> plans for it.<br /><br />I'm currently sorting things around the house and am getting rid of old gardening books and other pieces of junk and this vintage window box combination really struck me the other day. I tossed the book but I kept this image from it.<br /><br />This is the tangled and complicated kind of beauty I admire most. The round and tender leaves of a nasturtium are the last thing I'd imagine paired with a rattail cactus. One plant grows with ease in one season, while the other is an incredibly mature specimen plant—perfect example of the passage of time in the garden.<br /><br />Spring is coming soon and I guess I'm not the gardening fraud I feel like I've become due to these past two years or so of major life changes and transitions. I'm going to Italy and I will be looking at a lot of plants. There hopefully will be a beautiful one-year wedding anniversary celebration to plan. There are more plans for the future than I can mention. I'm not necessarily the specimen plant I wanted to become. I've accepted that maybe sometimes I'm going to be the annual plant with great growth and vigor put on during one season. Or, it's baroque and complicated and like everyone else I'm everything at once and far less interesting or important than I imagine myself to be and then I just don't matter and I drift back with my eyelids shut to a sunny day in the summertime where all I can hear is the noise from the city streets, or waves from the Pacific Ocean, and I remember the sound of my grandma's trowel in the dirt beside me as I doze off in the lounge chair. <br /><br />Yes, I'm anticipating springtime too and the calm nothingness brought on by spontaneous moments of profundity caught in nature and in the garden. Maybe that's what the feral cat is anticipating too. </div></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-6048644394153581412014-01-21T21:15:00.002-08:002014-01-21T21:18:22.034-08:00He is pruning the privet: the seemingly never-ending saga of change in a garden<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eKyBFfa3Ptk/Ut9PdZHkl9I/AAAAAAAAHHw/HAHVb3IzRUM/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eKyBFfa3Ptk/Ut9PdZHkl9I/AAAAAAAAHHw/HAHVb3IzRUM/s1600/IMG_1741.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Please read this poem—that is, if you have the time or inclination. I know that poems don't speak to everyone, so please, give it a try. I'll understand if you don't.<br /><br />I thought for a change of pace I'd share it since it's about gardening. (But yes, you're correct, it's about much more than just pruning.)<br /><br /><a href="http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/242602">He is pruning the privet (a poem by Joanne Kyger)</a><br /><br />The poem says everything I'd like to say right now. I could not find the words, they found me. I'm tired, but am still able to seek. That's reassuring. As I near 40, I'm feeling my age and am waking up from a medical stupor, stupid illness I fell into at the age of 18.<br /><br />Rip Van Winkle <i>never</i> prepared me for this.<br /><br />Change and time is growth, and sloppily, wearily, messily, we'll all keep pruning too.<br /><br />It's what we do.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-58042432407626416172014-01-15T21:09:00.000-08:002014-01-15T21:09:43.612-08:00Wordless Wednesday: From the Darkness of Winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IVe2pCdFE20/UtdmtkFNJtI/AAAAAAAAHGg/EjF-w8SZNLs/s1600/IMG_4961.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IVe2pCdFE20/UtdmtkFNJtI/AAAAAAAAHGg/EjF-w8SZNLs/s1600/IMG_4961.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ePuO6IFPhVI/UtdnBLun-mI/AAAAAAAAHGw/3pY4Y2isHwc/s1600/IMG_4963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ePuO6IFPhVI/UtdnBLun-mI/AAAAAAAAHGw/3pY4Y2isHwc/s1600/IMG_4963.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rU6d8OEc1_U/UtdmzVozmaI/AAAAAAAAHGo/ZJj-TQt0v-E/s1600/IMG_4983.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-rU6d8OEc1_U/UtdmzVozmaI/AAAAAAAAHGo/ZJj-TQt0v-E/s1600/IMG_4983.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-frRPda-OaoE/UtdnDRPsogI/AAAAAAAAHG4/vKeQIqHjWs8/s1600/IMG_4991.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-frRPda-OaoE/UtdnDRPsogI/AAAAAAAAHG4/vKeQIqHjWs8/s1600/IMG_4991.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-48-hjHwT2Uk/UtdnGKXccSI/AAAAAAAAHHA/_9IO7q-MEtk/s1600/IMG_5001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-48-hjHwT2Uk/UtdnGKXccSI/AAAAAAAAHHA/_9IO7q-MEtk/s1600/IMG_5001.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUn8SAuuxU8/UtdnffUkv1I/AAAAAAAAHHY/VpGcdg9ATA4/s1600/IMG_5019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-tUn8SAuuxU8/UtdnffUkv1I/AAAAAAAAHHY/VpGcdg9ATA4/s1600/IMG_5019.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioTWC58utnY/UtdnWoiiudI/AAAAAAAAHHI/iKwCu1nr5gE/s1600/IMG_5045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ioTWC58utnY/UtdnWoiiudI/AAAAAAAAHHI/iKwCu1nr5gE/s1600/IMG_5045.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OoGGveNK5pE/UtdndCnc10I/AAAAAAAAHHQ/yCiFPIZBFZY/s1600/IMG_5056.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OoGGveNK5pE/UtdndCnc10I/AAAAAAAAHHQ/yCiFPIZBFZY/s1600/IMG_5056.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gT9lkOv7Ha8/UtdnlKARotI/AAAAAAAAHHg/i5EDn3B5Lac/s1600/IMG_5057.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gT9lkOv7Ha8/UtdnlKARotI/AAAAAAAAHHg/i5EDn3B5Lac/s1600/IMG_5057.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-64311859712969506062014-01-06T00:01:00.000-08:002014-01-06T21:14:37.381-08:00The Alaskan Honeymoon: Part Two (The Kenai Peninsula)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>It's a shame it's taken so long to return to blogging about our honeymoon back in <a href="http://seedcollector.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-alaskan-honeymoon-part-one.html">September 2013</a> but the installments seemed daunting. Alaska is a big place and is best experienced. I just didn't know what to say and I still cannot find the words. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>So, instead, I'm pressing forward. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>When I look at these images now I feel a lot and it's mostly silence, calm, and solitude. I'm not known to be silent, but I know what it is and what it means. In Alaska I felt it and I felt a deep calm I haven't felt in a long time. The solitude was much needed and I had a lot of time to reflect. It felt better than any spa treatment. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>There was space to breathe. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>Even though I'm now looking forward to traveling to Italy in a few months, there will always be room in my heart for Alaska. We will return. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i>These posts find me pining away for it a bit too...</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c0psCeALxCw/UsUonqbSxqI/AAAAAAAAG9g/3BED9nG7_HY/s1600/IMG_3767.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-c0psCeALxCw/UsUonqbSxqI/AAAAAAAAG9g/3BED9nG7_HY/s400/IMG_3767.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></div>After hibernating for a day in Anchorage we drove south on Highway 1 to the Kenai Peninsula. I'd chosen it because of the Kenai River and because a garden client of mine is from Homer. I met her just after meeting my husband and when I told her we were discussing Alaska as a potential honeymoon destination she became very supportive of the idea.<br /><br />(I'm so glad she did because she was a great help in our planning. I only wish we could have stayed in Homer longer but more on that next time...)<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IF29rZU1otQ/UsUoqzwI8cI/AAAAAAAAG9s/_nrzAm1npHM/s1600/IMG_3768.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IF29rZU1otQ/UsUoqzwI8cI/AAAAAAAAG9s/_nrzAm1npHM/s400/IMG_3768.jpg" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There were some goats up on the rocks somewhere not far from where we snapped this photo—wild mountain goats! </td></tr></tbody></table>This photo says a lot about the first day out on the road. The bride was still very tired and the groom was ready for an adventure.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-0NN4jT8Es/UsUpFu3jRMI/AAAAAAAAG-M/EUX2DxPGvk8/s1600/IMG_3778.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y-0NN4jT8Es/UsUpFu3jRMI/AAAAAAAAG-M/EUX2DxPGvk8/s400/IMG_3778.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild rose hips. </td></tr></tbody></table>Sadly, we rushed a bit on our way to the town of Soldotna. I regret not having stopped to take more photos but I was too tired and we both had no idea what the day would be like at all. The drive south was beautiful though and the landscape was unlike anything I'd seen before and as we drove we talked a lot about what it reminded us of so I'm left with a memory of that free-association game.<br /><br />How do we become acquainted with new landscapes? We often familiarize ourselves to new environments by associating them with other places we've been to before and that's half the fun—at least for me. While John saw the Alps, I saw the Tetons.<br /><br />After a week it became Alaska to us, but at first, we had to get settled.<br /><br />(I suspect in the future we will be in Scandinavia talking about how it looks like Alaska to us, but I hope we'll see more of Alaska again before that trip takes place.)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--qZ5uxXJVnk/UsUpHICG5_I/AAAAAAAAG-U/qOe4oG8dcZo/s1600/IMG_3831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--qZ5uxXJVnk/UsUpHICG5_I/AAAAAAAAG-U/qOe4oG8dcZo/s400/IMG_3831.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Along the way we passed Kenai Lake and we were driving along the Kenai River off and on too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Considering I'd spent many years editing fishing books for my father's company, I expected to see something familiar. My eyes scanned the landscape and it looked like any other fishing hamlet. Later Dad told me on the phone about the trout fishing on the upper Kenai and I'm kind of fascinated by it now. I guess it's some world-class fishing I'd never heard about, but it's probably why it looked so familiar to me. There was a lot of fly fishing and it seemed a lot like home. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My father's love of Alaska was a big reason for my having wanted to go there in the first place. Each year during my birthday in September he'd always be off fishing for salmon. He'd return with tons of fish, great stories, and usually a stuffed animal or piece of jewelry for me. I hated Alaska for many years. I was jealous of her. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm the last of the Amato children to visit Alaska, but my purpose was as a naturalist more than anything else. It's what my father and I share. During the trip he called me more than he's ever called me in my entire life. Every other day he'd check in and he'd have me describe the weather conditions, the light, the surroundings, and I'd tell him about what we'd seen and done. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In my usual way, our tour was unlike any of the trips my father had ever taken. He'd always been treated like a king. He'd been flown into fancy lodges. He'd land in Anchorage and then immediately fly out to a remote location on a float plane. We hit the ground, rented a car, and toured. It's the trip—I later found out—that my dad would love to take now that he's older and I hope he gets to do so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">What interested him most was our access to good food, museums, and wildlife. He already knows about the fishing, but he hasn't seen the culture other than remote Native Alaskan villages. Traveling cheaply, eating well, and making the most of what we spent really sounded like a fun adventure to him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JKQ5w3K9kI0/Usjv3UW6IjI/AAAAAAAAHFo/3pbRDK9I7Gk/s1600/IMG_3798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JKQ5w3K9kI0/Usjv3UW6IjI/AAAAAAAAHFo/3pbRDK9I7Gk/s320/IMG_3798.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When we arrived at our hotel/motel in Soldotna, I had another moment of giggling. I loved this news advertisement. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Alaskans have a sense of humor and we saw it all over the place. They are matter-of-fact too. (Just wait until the next post when I show you what makes news here.) Coming from Portland, this was such a relief. Nowadays Portland residents take everything far too seriously and they are <i>so</i> sensitive so it was fun just to live simply without any "major issues" being shoved in our faces. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Not hearing about sustainability, livability, or seeing a hipster on a fixed gear bike for one whole week was another big part of the vacation for us. I don't think we heard the words "California" or "Bay Area" once. We didn't see women in yoga pants or a single Prius car. I'm not saying that it was Montana or Wyoming or even Idaho. It was just Alaska. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Again, let me remind you of the silence we felt there. There was no hype. What you saw was what you got. We just were. The other people just went about their business. People were polite and friendly but there were no cultural agendas or lifestyles. I haven't felt that free in a very long time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I_QdseKpNXw/UsUokGGJgAI/AAAAAAAAG9I/u64dbFdNPX4/s1600/IMG_1289.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I_QdseKpNXw/UsUokGGJgAI/AAAAAAAAG9I/u64dbFdNPX4/s400/IMG_1289.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>Once at the hotel, John rested while I walked down to the river. It is a well-known fishing river and there was an elevated walkway with multiple fishing platforms for town residents and visitors. I've never seen a river so prepared and well-planned for salmon fishing. Since the season had ended, I had the walkway to myself. I walked along and watched spawned out fish corpses float by me.<br /><br />The river was alive.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HfMVxKnORFI/UsUoj0REJDI/AAAAAAAAG9E/5OXQfvmHeUw/s1600/IMG_1290.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HfMVxKnORFI/UsUoj0REJDI/AAAAAAAAG9E/5OXQfvmHeUw/s400/IMG_1290.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>To my left was the riverbank. It was grassy and wild. There was also a small park with access leading down to the river. Looking up at the park bench it felt more like spring than late-summer.<br /><br />As I walked along the river I could hear the ever-buzzing sound of small planes in the sky. It's another strange thing about certain areas in Alaska. You get used to the sound. So much so that when you return home you think that every car or truck you hear in the city is a little bush plane. You begin to miss the little tin mosquitos in the sky.<br /><br />You also realize why it's the first thing you see hanging up high in the Anchorage airport—loud and proud. Those little planes are so important in this state.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LLGz9MkyvS4/UsUo-ljdxcI/AAAAAAAAG-E/O9RI_WUiZvY/s1600/IMG_3780.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LLGz9MkyvS4/UsUo-ljdxcI/AAAAAAAAG-E/O9RI_WUiZvY/s400/IMG_3780.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The river was to my right. That day, it was a silent river that had overfilled its banks due to the heavy rainfall before our arrival. While I was there I was texting with a friend from high school who lives outside of Anchorage and she felt so badly that we'd arrived to Oregon-style weather. I told her we didn't mind, after all, it was our honeymoon. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8UXG6fTFHDY/Usjv1Ayr7FI/AAAAAAAAHFg/odoutpV3oxw/s1600/IMG_3794.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8UXG6fTFHDY/Usjv1Ayr7FI/AAAAAAAAHFg/odoutpV3oxw/s320/IMG_3794.JPG" height="400" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holy_Assumption_of_the_Virgin_Mary_Church">Holy Assumption of the Virgin Mary Church</a> in Kenai. Founded in 1840. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After we grabbed a quick bite we went for a drive to the town of Kenai to see this old historic site. The daylight hours were longer then and that day we experienced our first day of what I can only call prolonged nightfall. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the plane—as we'd flown north—I'd noticed how the light had changed. I hadn't really thought about prolonged daybreak and prolonged nightfall but they are wonderfully slow things that again need to be experienced to be understood. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The world feels as if it's slowing down. In the morning, you don't feel like rushing. The one morning I watched the sunrise, it took what felt like hours to be fully light outside. It felt decadent. I felt powerless to the powers that be. I felt small in the grand scheme of the universe. That felt good and I was ok with it. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Witnessing the light was something quite incredible. It was a light show. I've seen color bursts in the sky plenty of times here at home, but not light shows with colors fading in and out, blending with one another, shifting and then fading into another shade. This process simply goes on and on for several hours. Then when you think it's dark, it's not. There are still slivers of light in the sky. They fade out slowly like embers in a fire. Before you know it, you've lost track of them, and fallen asleep beside them. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">When you awake, the slivers of light are in the sky again. The embers brighten and heat up the sky, you feel warmth from the darkness, and then it is morning. This whole process takes a few more hours. It is happening all around you as you go about your travels. It becomes a big part of how you experience the place. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pRt3WUKsZTY/UsUoj1WLOFI/AAAAAAAAG9A/lE9atMARWjI/s1600/IMG_1298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pRt3WUKsZTY/UsUoj1WLOFI/AAAAAAAAG9A/lE9atMARWjI/s320/IMG_1298.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>On our way back we passed a nursery. Even though it was closed, I had to stop and look. By this point I was fascinated by the climate, the light, and I wanted to find a gardener and ask them all about it. I didn't get that opportunity, but I'd like to explore gardening in Alaska more in the future.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-EReUObXwA/UsUom40ECXI/AAAAAAAAG9k/gLDhPtGM2L8/s1600/IMG_1299.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-s-EReUObXwA/UsUom40ECXI/AAAAAAAAG9k/gLDhPtGM2L8/s1600/IMG_1299.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Their display garden was really pretty. I didn't poke around though because we had to get back. I was fading. The gardens I saw during our brief visit were utilitarian, but not Spartan. I only saw things from the car though, but again, it's something I'd like to read more about in the future. As always, I have a lot to learn. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7etYXs73A_Q/UsUorTCIq7I/AAAAAAAAG9w/GcZGLpMMWlM/s1600/IMG_1303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7etYXs73A_Q/UsUorTCIq7I/AAAAAAAAG9w/GcZGLpMMWlM/s320/IMG_1303.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></div>In the parking lot, we saw many more of the poppies that grow so well in Alaska. <i>Papaver nudicaule</i> is meant for this place as are many other poppies.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ydcp5FbSp8/UspFjeV3ViI/AAAAAAAAHGE/PJRSr0uk-dk/s1600/Alaska+Little+Sister.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7Ydcp5FbSp8/UspFjeV3ViI/AAAAAAAAHGE/PJRSr0uk-dk/s1600/Alaska+Little+Sister.jpg" height="400" width="386" /></a></div>After another long day of adventure, it was becoming clearer to us that Alaska is a really big state. As we drove and talked about this, we realized just how much we wanted to see more of its beauty in the future. One long week in Alaska is nothing. We estimate that it will take at least 5 more trips to see every climate Alaska has to offer. Sure, this is true of virtually anywhere, but most places aren't surrounded by that much wilderness, with such extreme climates.<br /><br />To be continued...<br />(Next stop, Homer, AK.)<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-75155810563971018032014-01-01T11:29:00.000-08:002014-01-01T11:36:00.660-08:00My Garden To Do List: 2014<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PzC3KSxN4dY/UsRcJPH8DKI/AAAAAAAAG8w/UxLgnNrTCcM/s1600/todolist2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PzC3KSxN4dY/UsRcJPH8DKI/AAAAAAAAG8w/UxLgnNrTCcM/s400/todolist2014.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br />Happy 2014!<br /><br />I hope you, your family, your pets <i>and</i> your plants are all thriving, alive, and well.<br /><br />As for me, I'm recovering from a busy holiday season and am relaxing in bed with my two loyal felines. I can see a few trees from my back garden out the bedroom window and the weather is cool and crisp in Portland. There is sunshine mixed with some hazy fog and it's beautiful out right now.<br /><br />What a great time to be thinking about gardening.<br /><br />It's still seed shopping season so I'm continuing to dream today about the months ahead. I'm making plans for the garden.<br /><br />The list so far isn't a long list, but that's because it's 2014 now and I'm planning on working and traveling a lot more this year. The list <i>must be manageable</i>.<br /><br />There will be plenty to post about and to follow again. I'm dedicated to being a garden blogger and communicator. My only hope is to expand my writing a bit more beyond the blog.<br /><br />So, here's what's on the menu for 2014.<br /><br /><b><i>1: Edit. Edit. Edit. Then edit some more.</i></b><br />There cannot be enough said about editing. I don't plan to make this place picture perfect—and definitely <i>not</i> matchy-matchy—but it will be edited. I'm eternally nothing more than a wild Bohemian at heart and my garden needs to better reflect that back to the world. Gardens are, after all, somewhat a reflection of what's going on inside of us in a deeply aesthetic and often personally spiritual realm. That is when they're personal gardens, and not simply designed to function as low-maintenance or move-in ready. Mine is not yet as intimate as it will be, but I'll get there.<br /><br />I also want to better define a Bohemian Garden, or maybe you might already call it an Artist's Garden. A whole thesis could be written on this and maybe that's what I'll be starting this year. Who know!?!<br /><br />Gardens need more categories and words. I'm beginning to realize how limiting many of the definitions can be so it will be fun to use my art criticism and aesthetic theory for some good. I honestly cannot wait.<br /><br /><i><b>2: Finalize a design for a fence along the back of the the garden. </b></i><br />This is of the utmost importance. Anyone who knows me knows that this has been a thorn in my side for many years—pretty much ever since I moved into this house. The design challenge is upon us and I am so excited about it finally happening. Sure, I would love an 8-foot stone wall, but since that's not going to happen, what other options are there?<br /><br /><i><b>3: Plant lots and lots of seeds again this winter and spring. </b></i><br />Seeds have stories and a provenance. A Bohemian Garden is a Collector's Garden, but instead of having scientifically collected data and facts, there are stories too.<br /><br /><i><b>4: Expand the herb garden and redevelop the kitchen garden. (We're looking to rent community garden space again too. We have a lot of heirloom and Italian veggies we're looking forward to growing.) </b></i><br />Well, a girl has to eat right?<br /><br />In all seriousness, for me, eating foods I've grown matters because I'm an Oregonian and an Italian-American. It is traditional for my family to eat what it grows, or else to purchase fresh produce. It's respectable and honorable. This is my heritage and a part of who I am and where I come from. Self-sufficiency was important to my pioneering relatives. It is important to me too. I am looking forward to writing more kitchen garden and cooking posts here too now. I've got some skillz in that realm that I've seriously underemployed for many years.<br /><br />Then there is the extra added value of being able to have produce you can't buy at any grocery store or farmers' market. That feels <i>good</i>. It's like going on a major expedition to bring back something very special to share with others. I am getting hungry just thinking about the cooking plans I already have for the garden harvest of 2014.<br /><i><b><br /></b></i><i><b>5: Creatively redesigning some space for outdoor dining. </b></i><br />Sharing a meal with a spouse, family, and/or friends is what good living is all about—especially when you grew some of it yourself. (Or caught. More on fishing some other time...)<br /><br />I sound kind of Italian, but I am kind of Italian. Food is very important to me, and so is the community of sharing built around food. It is what makes a good life a great life.<br /><br /><i><b>6: Add a lovely European-style flower box to the front of the house and dress the place up a bit. </b></i><br />The uncertainty of my time spent in this house is coming to an end. It's going to become my home in 2014, and I'm looking forward to making it a place that brings comfort and calm, peace and pleasure to my family, friends, and most of all, to me.<br /><br />2014: The Year of the Bohemian Garden.<br />Hope you're looking forward to this as much as I am.<br />Happy 2014!<br /><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-53771745073521317972013-12-25T23:38:00.001-08:002013-12-29T17:56:09.319-08:00Merry Christmas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5dDNfuzFy0Q/Urvc2568a1I/AAAAAAAAG78/vKWqu6MZ1uM/s640/blogger-image--648040340.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-5dDNfuzFy0Q/Urvc2568a1I/AAAAAAAAG78/vKWqu6MZ1uM/s640/blogger-image--648040340.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Hope you had a lovely holiday full of laughter and love. We filled the house with food and friends and feasted on The Feast of Seven Fishes. I'm ashamed I didn't take more photos, but I can assure you I was busy for several hours and nothing was left on a single plate. It was delicious. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7LP-xtmpL2g/UrvcwZWhj7I/AAAAAAAAG7s/PR784Lf9KXY/s640/blogger-image--165578132.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-7LP-xtmpL2g/UrvcwZWhj7I/AAAAAAAAG7s/PR784Lf9KXY/s640/blogger-image--165578132.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">These are a few of our handmade spinach ravioli with Dungeness crab filling. This was a huge win for us because we'd never made them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">After the guests had departed I received my presents. The first was the book above. We're planning a trip to Italy in 2014 so I need to get my green hat on again soon. This book will help me. I've never been, and John is taking me to see places from his childhood. He wanted to take me to Sicily too, but I'd rather see friends, so we're thinking about alternatives. I'm excited, but traveling is always hard on my body so I have a lot of planning and special physical therapy exercises in store for me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CG6HEB7UHCQ/UrvcztZoblI/AAAAAAAAG70/dkUsYbO01bQ/s640/blogger-image-2057029262.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-CG6HEB7UHCQ/UrvcztZoblI/AAAAAAAAG70/dkUsYbO01bQ/s640/blogger-image-2057029262.jpg" /></a></div>My second gift was this pearl necklace. No one has ever given me anything like this before and it means a lot to me. I can only afford the basics within my budget so this is a true gift. I feel a bit grown up wearing it. Last night I wanted to fall asleep with it on. I felt like a little girl playing dress up and that made me happy for some funny reason.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to garden with it on, but the thought did cross my mind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I am getting John a kitten. This is crazy since we already have 3 cats, but it is what he wants. (More on that new arrival soon. We are being very careful with our choice.)</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So, the future looks bright and my garden is waking up and I'm looking forward to revising it in the coming months. There will be more shared meals and laughter in this house. I hope to meet new people and have more creative energy and ideas. Best of all, I want to continue to help people and share my thoughts about what I've learned through managing my own chronic illness. I've built up more and more strength and I am ready now. It was rough to revisit where I was in my life but I'm truly supported and encouraged now by those around me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The only immediate issue I currently have is about continuing my education. Part of me wants to study again, but I will need more strength and endurance. What to study? Horticulture, garden design, writing? I don't know, but I'm open to developing my potential again. I want to dig in, get involved, and become more of the professional I know I am. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">With that, I must bid you all adieu! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Merry Christmas! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">(More from the garden soon!)</div></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-89888899370332043122013-12-22T23:22:00.001-08:002013-12-22T23:22:05.970-08:00The Quince, Sea Beans, and a Black Oregon Truffle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Since it's almost Christmas, it's time for me to post what's been waiting in my hopper. (These past few weeks have been a blur.) <div><br /></div><div>Between cooking for folks here at home, ghostblogging about food for someone else, and cooking food for clients I've been working for as a caregiver, I'm feeling fairly proficient in the kitchen nowadays. <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-319hSP4eKSY/UpQ2a5y2KeI/AAAAAAAAG5k/1PQq7WYOiBE/s1600/IMG_4447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-319hSP4eKSY/UpQ2a5y2KeI/AAAAAAAAG5k/1PQq7WYOiBE/s400/IMG_4447.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Thanksgiving Quinces as Still-life. </td></tr></tbody></table>Last month we purchased some quince from a local co-op. We'd gone there to look for raw goat milk for making cheese and whey. When we got home, John set about making quince paste. It was a fun process and quite different than I'd imagined. Both culinary projects went well and they tasted so good. The quince paste was served with some wild boar charcuterie at Thanksgiving alongside some Spanish cheeses.<br /><br />Oh! That seems like ages ago to me right now.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5vkqwipmA8Y/UpQ2EhBlE2I/AAAAAAAAG5U/lVam1HubTy4/s1600/IMG_4424.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5vkqwipmA8Y/UpQ2EhBlE2I/AAAAAAAAG5U/lVam1HubTy4/s400/IMG_4424.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are so many vegetables to give thanks for this time of year.</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yGWrBnb-MNs/UpQ1_LKQiWI/AAAAAAAAG5E/QheOa-5N8_w/s1600/IMG_4426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yGWrBnb-MNs/UpQ1_LKQiWI/AAAAAAAAG5E/QheOa-5N8_w/s400/IMG_4426.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sausage, Potato and Savoy Cabbage Soup is a comfort food of mine.</td></tr></tbody></table>We've pickled a few beets during the last few weeks and just last week I prepared my favorite <a href="http://www.grouprecipes.com/78233/sausage-potato-and-cabbage-soup.html">cabbage soup</a> when we had a large family of friends over for dinner. My best friend from college and his wife have adopted a baby and I get to be an auntie again. With his whole family in town, of course I had to invite them all over for dinner too.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NYgJSIcSDOc/UpQ2B6RiD4I/AAAAAAAAG5M/NSlZGbPaFKs/s1600/IMG_4433.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NYgJSIcSDOc/UpQ2B6RiD4I/AAAAAAAAG5M/NSlZGbPaFKs/s400/IMG_4433.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Know your Italian chicories: Radicchio and Treviso. </td></tr></tbody></table>Last month there was a tasty salad I made with some radicchio too. It was raw radicchio—not grilled—so I was weary at first. Somehow serving it with crispy red onions and a citrus vinaigrette did something magical to its bitterness. It was another great success I hope to serve again soon.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gc0P5iWEgas/UpQ2aLYluUI/AAAAAAAAG5g/VTybPqvBgb0/s1600/IMG_4435.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gc0P5iWEgas/UpQ2aLYluUI/AAAAAAAAG5g/VTybPqvBgb0/s400/IMG_4435.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild foraged Sea Beans. </td></tr></tbody></table>I'd always wanted to try these so last month I purchased some samphire at the Portland Farmers Market. I was pleasantly surprised by how salty they were when I popped one into my mouth.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iv5PsOP9E_c/UpQ294Ss_DI/AAAAAAAAG6Q/dB1jpivNkog/s1600/IMG_4520.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iv5PsOP9E_c/UpQ294Ss_DI/AAAAAAAAG6Q/dB1jpivNkog/s400/IMG_4520.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sea Beans with Rice Vinegar and Furikake. </td></tr></tbody></table>Days later I put this little salad together at home. I recommend sea beans highly if you're into salt. They are very crunchy too. Somewhere in my office I have seeds for them. I am really curious now to see how they'll taste when grown in my home garden.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5UOP6VnlcRc/UpQ2i-GGNkI/AAAAAAAAG5s/xdzgA1bv5W0/s1600/IMG_4440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5UOP6VnlcRc/UpQ2i-GGNkI/AAAAAAAAG5s/xdzgA1bv5W0/s400/IMG_4440.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://portlandtreetour.wordpress.com/2013/05/25/psu-millar-libary-copper-beech/">Copper Beech</a> in front of the Millar Library at PSU. </td></tr></tbody></table>While at PSU attending the Portland Farmer's Market, I enjoyed looking around. The market takes place in the park blocks and there are so many beautiful trees to look at while people watching and shopping. </div><div><br /></div><div>For many years it was a painful place for me to visit because my health had been very poor while I was a student there. Now that I'm much better, I can reflect on those years. We all need to process our past and move forward stronger and more aware. Being surrounded by the market makes that process kind of fun for me now. My love of food and my knowledge of plants has given me some much needed strength over the past few years.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fl9fxC9WVx4/UpQ2pOQXJ7I/AAAAAAAAG50/XhP7FNO6XFM/s1600/IMG_4480.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fl9fxC9WVx4/UpQ2pOQXJ7I/AAAAAAAAG50/XhP7FNO6XFM/s400/IMG_4480.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">After one of the trips to the market I went thrift store shopping. I was looking for a new ikebana vase when I found this old 1980s mauve piece. When I saw the sticker it made me smile. This shop is no longer in business and had belonged to my niece's grandmother on her mother's side of the family. While driving home, the poor thing broke, but my niece was happy I'd at least thought to pick it up for her. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A1cShP4UtV8/UpQ29JF8BII/AAAAAAAAG6I/eET3-WsxXng/s1600/IMG_4501.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-A1cShP4UtV8/UpQ29JF8BII/AAAAAAAAG6I/eET3-WsxXng/s400/IMG_4501.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Foraged Chanterelles.</td></tr></tbody></table>I made these into an omelette. What do you like to make with yours? Just curious.<br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dME9VEkszW8/UpQ2-JhwT1I/AAAAAAAAG6U/p-9FV_07O4w/s1600/IMG_4538.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dME9VEkszW8/UpQ2-JhwT1I/AAAAAAAAG6U/p-9FV_07O4w/s400/IMG_4538.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oregon Black Truffle. </td></tr></tbody></table>We bought truffles too and John made a delicious risotto for us. (Risotto is common in the region of Italy he hails from and he was raised eating it.) The Oregon truffle was a fun twist on our usual recipe for both of us. Yes, the domestic truffle is not as tasty as European truffles, but they are more affordable. I'll take that tradeoff. Truffles just make me happy too. I smell them and they make me smile. When they are near me, I am content. </div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously. I love truffles.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--y2_KwYokdY/UpQ3OBpxqVI/AAAAAAAAG6c/HKg47otZXaw/s1600/IMG_4556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--y2_KwYokdY/UpQ3OBpxqVI/AAAAAAAAG6c/HKg47otZXaw/s400/IMG_4556.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Lastly, for Thanksgiving we also had some flowers. It began with this simple arrangement but then I expanded from there. This year I also made sure to buy American-grown flowers. I'm dedicated to buying them more often now and I can assure you that you'll be hearing more and more about this topic during the coming months.<br /><br />Goodbye for now.<br />PS: Hope your holidays are going well!</div></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-24721658216350458252013-12-05T21:32:00.000-08:002013-12-29T17:56:34.738-08:00Living in the Frozen Shadow of Winter Sunshine<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5LqrNLUAs8/UqFevJXgvkI/AAAAAAAAG7M/tsMqKFBg0No/s1600/IMG_4583.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5LqrNLUAs8/UqFevJXgvkI/AAAAAAAAG7M/tsMqKFBg0No/s400/IMG_4583.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What will survive this cold?</td></tr></tbody></table>The weather is a cold right now, yet I've barely noticed since I've been working 50-60 hour weeks. While eating earlier today I peeked outside and saw that things didn't look quite right. I give up. It can grow again. I will grow again. I'm really grateful for the ongoing changes in my life.<br /><br />Before the cold hit, I stuffed the garage full of plants. Part of me wasn't sure if I should bother, but I did it anyway. I'm a creature of habit.<br /><br />At least I did it at the last minute, and of course my employer called to see if I could cover a shift for someone else. I felt rude saying that I had to save plants when someone needed an assistant during the final phase of their life but I'm learning to state my needs too. They understand. That's one of the things I really like about what I'm doing.<br /><br />A longer post is coming soon. I've been cooking a lot for my other job and I have some recipes of my own to share. Food writing is fun, and of course there were some floral arrangements from Thanksgiving.<br /><br />More on that though this weekend...<br /><br /><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-57986285807790898892013-11-15T23:37:00.000-08:002013-11-15T23:37:44.654-08:00Houseplant Season and a Few Fried Slugs <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T25pdMplPpA/UocS_dttqhI/AAAAAAAAG4s/6c4J-d_pH4I/s1600/IMG_4410.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-T25pdMplPpA/UocS_dttqhI/AAAAAAAAG4s/6c4J-d_pH4I/s400/IMG_4410.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Oxalis triangularis</i>. </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It's houseplant season and recently I've been busy. I hope to clean up a few neglected plants on Sunday.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Working over 40 hours a week with two part-time jobs is challenging physically but it's rewarding otherwise. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm happy right now and it feels different. I'm adjusting. I'm changing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I wish I could say more about my caretaking job with the elderly—and the amazing people I continue to meet—but I'm sworn to secrecy due to privacy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">It <i>is</i> safe to say that I've met a few green thumbs during the last few weeks. Many are physically too delicate to garden now so I tell them about gardens instead and they tell me about the gardens they've known. It is a wonderful way to interact with people whom you don't know well. One woman used to be involved in an ikebana group. We were fast friends. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We tend to talk about the weather a lot and animals. I've heard many great stories. It will be good for me to continue the work—at least for now. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jKvxVmDpE4M/UocSizB6NtI/AAAAAAAAG4A/3yTeFTHdDWY/s1600/IMG_4332.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jKvxVmDpE4M/UocSizB6NtI/AAAAAAAAG4A/3yTeFTHdDWY/s400/IMG_4332.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are two elderly cats here at home. It is not their favorite season. Luckily I'm earning more money now so I can purchase special items for them. Hopefully they'll be watching me sow some seeds soon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I keep talking about it. I keep threatening to do it. Working is more important for now. Learning two new jobs is challenging. I at least am very confident about how to germinate seeds. That's reassuring and it feels good to be confident about something. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYVBrnieuCk/UocSw3oZWFI/AAAAAAAAG4U/BJSj2dZSQ5A/s1600/IMG_4357.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZYVBrnieuCk/UocSw3oZWFI/AAAAAAAAG4U/BJSj2dZSQ5A/s400/IMG_4357.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Last weekend we went to my parents' house again out by the coast. It felt like a work weekend because we were both writing NaNoWriMo novels. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">This week I stopped writing mine temporarily due to swelling and hand pain. My story is writing itself and I've stepped back to better control the time I put into it. Something snapped and clicked inside of me while I was at the beach last weekend. Suddenly I saw how I write. I've never enjoyed writing fiction much but it's clicked with me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My book has a lot of plants and gardening in it. So I'm kind of writing about plants right now. It's just not so obvious to anyone here visiting the blog. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xdQvgE43cs/UocSpDm5hSI/AAAAAAAAG4I/cw9su2eCNMg/s1600/IMG_4360.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1xdQvgE43cs/UocSpDm5hSI/AAAAAAAAG4I/cw9su2eCNMg/s400/IMG_4360.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">John and I really like visiting my parents' house near Astoria. He enjoys cooking and the stillness while I tend to wander in the woods. This last trip I was working too hard though. I'm looking forward to having more fun next time. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kuH3VOocQVQ/UocTClx9HoI/AAAAAAAAG4w/w7wRcnOpCE0/s1600/IMG_4389.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kuH3VOocQVQ/UocTClx9HoI/AAAAAAAAG4w/w7wRcnOpCE0/s320/IMG_4389.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">For a break we drove over to Astoria and went out to lunch and then walked the streets of our other favorite town in Oregon. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I should have taken pictures of our meal but we ate it all too quickly. Looks like I have a good reason to go back now, don't you agree? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6vvx27EEnP8/UocSxZ17GrI/AAAAAAAAG4c/xLYaWldJoZE/s1600/IMG_4395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6vvx27EEnP8/UocSxZ17GrI/AAAAAAAAG4c/xLYaWldJoZE/s400/IMG_4395.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">John has a relative with a boat moored in the Astoria so we walked over to look at it. There were old Victorians for sale as well and a few of those caught our eye. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">But it is houseplant season and I'm back in Portland now. It's been a long week and in addition to caregiving I've been writing a lot of content for a cooking blog. I'm still in awe of the fact that I'm being paid to write quality content for someone else as a ghost blogger. I really like the woman I'm working for and cooking is so fulfilling for me. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm still struggling with food photography and am setting up a home studio here for it but I will write more on that later. What's great is that I can also let some of that food spill over onto this blog too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tomorrow I'm off to the <a href="http://www.portlandfarmersmarket.org/">Portland Farmers Market</a> to get a wide selection of wild mushrooms. Expect some recipes soon...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In the meantime, enjoy this really interesting blog post from a few years back. The next time I hear someone proselytizing on local foods and how they have a lower impact on the environment I'll through this mushy little monkey wrench at them: <a href="http://feralfood.blogspot.com/2009/12/for-sarah-and-anybody-else-who-is.html">Feral Food: How to Eat Slugs</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I'm such a little stinker sometimes.</div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-3124281027355870842013-11-06T13:36:00.001-08:002013-11-06T13:37:10.205-08:00Wordless Wednesday: Part Three: A Tour of Bella Madrona aka The Garden of Sampson & Beasley<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CChBwy26x7Y/Unqx61oj1rI/AAAAAAAAGy4/7Y4Crj_VyWE/s1600/IMG_1138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CChBwy26x7Y/Unqx61oj1rI/AAAAAAAAGy4/7Y4Crj_VyWE/s400/IMG_1138.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ay9zM9TIio0/Unqwvp2xpzI/AAAAAAAAGyU/l5r-IrlLT_U/s1600/IMG_1109.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ay9zM9TIio0/Unqwvp2xpzI/AAAAAAAAGyU/l5r-IrlLT_U/s400/IMG_1109.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1yu-dMx2ozY/UnqwJ2Dns1I/AAAAAAAAGyE/KHoeM2smN6o/s1600/IMG_1111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1yu-dMx2ozY/UnqwJ2Dns1I/AAAAAAAAGyE/KHoeM2smN6o/s400/IMG_1111.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdKoZF0CQzk/UnqwYZ5IPqI/AAAAAAAAGyM/fjq1Kpu4osA/s1600/IMG_1112.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OdKoZF0CQzk/UnqwYZ5IPqI/AAAAAAAAGyM/fjq1Kpu4osA/s400/IMG_1112.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOaAuwrzsLc/UnqxIQZkU_I/AAAAAAAAGyc/MwK2LQCrCrE/s1600/IMG_1120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-UOaAuwrzsLc/UnqxIQZkU_I/AAAAAAAAGyc/MwK2LQCrCrE/s400/IMG_1120.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-8MGEdd1X8/UnqxQ5WZinI/AAAAAAAAGyk/5IMlfB8A9eo/s1600/IMG_1130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-8MGEdd1X8/UnqxQ5WZinI/AAAAAAAAGyk/5IMlfB8A9eo/s400/IMG_1130.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MlXiwiEdkFQ/UnqxXn56diI/AAAAAAAAGys/DMU7xTvsRZA/s1600/IMG_1133.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MlXiwiEdkFQ/UnqxXn56diI/AAAAAAAAGys/DMU7xTvsRZA/s400/IMG_1133.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wZMgOYR2g3s/UnqyTqPYJ_I/AAAAAAAAGzE/6RF9mvWL9bY/s1600/IMG_1140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wZMgOYR2g3s/UnqyTqPYJ_I/AAAAAAAAGzE/6RF9mvWL9bY/s400/IMG_1140.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OStcrmsO0j8/UnqyAydJx1I/AAAAAAAAGy8/eRapS7azutc/s1600/IMG_1142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OStcrmsO0j8/UnqyAydJx1I/AAAAAAAAGy8/eRapS7azutc/s400/IMG_1142.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWmvMRIHoaw/Unqyt-lpMVI/AAAAAAAAGzM/6Xdxyyhul-o/s1600/IMG_1146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tWmvMRIHoaw/Unqyt-lpMVI/AAAAAAAAGzM/6Xdxyyhul-o/s400/IMG_1146.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fod8ki1vcT4/Unqyy4xR90I/AAAAAAAAGzU/QnVmRm02Amk/s1600/IMG_1148.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fod8ki1vcT4/Unqyy4xR90I/AAAAAAAAGzU/QnVmRm02Amk/s400/IMG_1148.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lNFRJnhOZBU/Unqy-jHa8vI/AAAAAAAAGzc/7WjrcMVqUZQ/s1600/IMG_1151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lNFRJnhOZBU/Unqy-jHa8vI/AAAAAAAAGzc/7WjrcMVqUZQ/s400/IMG_1151.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9viZhckJ6xg/UnqzqRcsfYI/AAAAAAAAGzs/Ie9DcHR0tcY/s1600/IMG_1152.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9viZhckJ6xg/UnqzqRcsfYI/AAAAAAAAGzs/Ie9DcHR0tcY/s400/IMG_1152.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ygN0TO1wFFk/Unqzq4_4MNI/AAAAAAAAGzw/DFlVkuhgXm4/s1600/IMG_1153.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ygN0TO1wFFk/Unqzq4_4MNI/AAAAAAAAGzw/DFlVkuhgXm4/s400/IMG_1153.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8KP7lai8xMM/Unqzp3hnTDI/AAAAAAAAGzo/x2lUtHtP8cQ/s1600/IMG_1154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8KP7lai8xMM/Unqzp3hnTDI/AAAAAAAAGzo/x2lUtHtP8cQ/s400/IMG_1154.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Tm29Nd-FY4/Unq0IB2ZkTI/AAAAAAAAG0I/tiST_wxllQ4/s1600/IMG_1161.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Tm29Nd-FY4/Unq0IB2ZkTI/AAAAAAAAG0I/tiST_wxllQ4/s400/IMG_1161.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4YTdfekxuYE/Unqz8T0mo5I/AAAAAAAAG0A/jjwCh2ZpD3k/s1600/IMG_3350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4YTdfekxuYE/Unqz8T0mo5I/AAAAAAAAG0A/jjwCh2ZpD3k/s400/IMG_3350.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-10023748628817498962013-10-30T10:45:00.000-07:002013-10-30T10:45:04.747-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Part Two: A Tour of Bella Madrona aka The Garden of Sampson & Beasley<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQCuZpF-h6E/UnFAO6xqK9I/AAAAAAAAGvg/mf6pPGj68MI/s1600/IMG_1079.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RQCuZpF-h6E/UnFAO6xqK9I/AAAAAAAAGvg/mf6pPGj68MI/s400/IMG_1079.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7j8GDP0OFW8/UnFAU845vTI/AAAAAAAAGvo/CB6mL7YVWrE/s1600/IMG_1077.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7j8GDP0OFW8/UnFAU845vTI/AAAAAAAAGvo/CB6mL7YVWrE/s400/IMG_1077.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W8ugZHw0rBc/UnFAUL-JPjI/AAAAAAAAGvk/7uGwjJJpkcs/s1600/IMG_1082.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W8ugZHw0rBc/UnFAUL-JPjI/AAAAAAAAGvk/7uGwjJJpkcs/s400/IMG_1082.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bVutboh0SZU/UnFA_cvnO2I/AAAAAAAAGv0/H0Sbf8M4q0o/s1600/IMG_1086.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bVutboh0SZU/UnFA_cvnO2I/AAAAAAAAGv0/H0Sbf8M4q0o/s400/IMG_1086.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lCHEOzbduJI/UnFBEMnf8vI/AAAAAAAAGv8/5wxUyBi3FXM/s1600/IMG_1088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lCHEOzbduJI/UnFBEMnf8vI/AAAAAAAAGv8/5wxUyBi3FXM/s400/IMG_1088.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HsiHW-nTZuE/UnFBo7K2lGI/AAAAAAAAGwI/D56Wt5EN40k/s1600/IMG_1089.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HsiHW-nTZuE/UnFBo7K2lGI/AAAAAAAAGwI/D56Wt5EN40k/s400/IMG_1089.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i5nOylokZUg/UnFBtDgN9hI/AAAAAAAAGwQ/owCcDEi2rqw/s1600/IMG_1090.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-i5nOylokZUg/UnFBtDgN9hI/AAAAAAAAGwQ/owCcDEi2rqw/s400/IMG_1090.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NkWhFQgWHVI/UnFB6N278-I/AAAAAAAAGwY/u7NvkUKF5W8/s1600/IMG_1091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NkWhFQgWHVI/UnFB6N278-I/AAAAAAAAGwY/u7NvkUKF5W8/s400/IMG_1091.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhbSFJUngcQ/UnFCX0GYOkI/AAAAAAAAGwg/BvLGCzSQ2xk/s1600/IMG_1093.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EhbSFJUngcQ/UnFCX0GYOkI/AAAAAAAAGwg/BvLGCzSQ2xk/s400/IMG_1093.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KZhEoKRGrNU/UnFCy76ZpsI/AAAAAAAAGww/m7fIYsRyEwI/s1600/IMG_1094.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-KZhEoKRGrNU/UnFCy76ZpsI/AAAAAAAAGww/m7fIYsRyEwI/s400/IMG_1094.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R_1hIHYmQXE/UnFCad4ayqI/AAAAAAAAGwo/MDN41F10FiI/s1600/IMG_1097.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-R_1hIHYmQXE/UnFCad4ayqI/AAAAAAAAGwo/MDN41F10FiI/s400/IMG_1097.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eYaQxgwsMM4/UnFDaFxIZ_I/AAAAAAAAGxA/zLVjEu8cR-A/s1600/IMG_1098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eYaQxgwsMM4/UnFDaFxIZ_I/AAAAAAAAGxA/zLVjEu8cR-A/s400/IMG_1098.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FPtoQXOxMzE/UnFDRuH_SAI/AAAAAAAAGw4/vyRSXKv5xi8/s1600/IMG_1103.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FPtoQXOxMzE/UnFDRuH_SAI/AAAAAAAAGw4/vyRSXKv5xi8/s400/IMG_1103.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-9oI3V4tYU/UnFDoSFRxDI/AAAAAAAAGxI/gB0ggWztIqw/s1600/IMG_1104.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y-9oI3V4tYU/UnFDoSFRxDI/AAAAAAAAGxI/gB0ggWztIqw/s400/IMG_1104.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zeN1c40wle8/UnFEGv_TxsI/AAAAAAAAGxY/EJlxQ8O_ZXA/s1600/IMG_1105.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zeN1c40wle8/UnFEGv_TxsI/AAAAAAAAGxY/EJlxQ8O_ZXA/s400/IMG_1105.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--QyYKXww0MQ/UnFEA-JCGqI/AAAAAAAAGxQ/UqV1_249-uE/s1600/IMG_1106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--QyYKXww0MQ/UnFEA-JCGqI/AAAAAAAAGxQ/UqV1_249-uE/s400/IMG_1106.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wV2PwA1_fow/UnFEPh25MBI/AAAAAAAAGxg/358adEbHNtg/s1600/IMG_1108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wV2PwA1_fow/UnFEPh25MBI/AAAAAAAAGxg/358adEbHNtg/s400/IMG_1108.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-88973553825256069212013-10-29T00:01:00.000-07:002013-10-29T00:01:00.538-07:00An Autumn Field Report<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QvAYNeNj9po/Um88asJzOvI/AAAAAAAAGuY/Z-O2WR2Bi-w/s1600/IMG_4263.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QvAYNeNj9po/Um88asJzOvI/AAAAAAAAGuY/Z-O2WR2Bi-w/s400/IMG_4263.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">My life feels like it's on fire right now—but my house looks like it thanks to the annual display put on by the Virginia Creeper (<i>Parthenocissus quinquefolia</i>). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While my life takes off, I'm too busy to even sit and consider what'll happen to me now if I swell up. It took me a long time, and it took a lot of searching and self-acceptance, but finally, I seem to have a professional life and a work schedule I not only can manage, but I've set myself up to succeed and it feels so much better. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZNnAz7m0Sk/Um87e8koaSI/AAAAAAAAGts/Anv12Lws8iA/s1600/IMG_4200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0ZNnAz7m0Sk/Um87e8koaSI/AAAAAAAAGts/Anv12Lws8iA/s400/IMG_4200.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The garden is no longer neglected. In my mind, it's on hold. It's slowly starting up again (really coming to life for the first time) and I'm introducing John to it little by little.<br /><br />His first unique seed experience was this 'Cruel' vine seed head (<i>Araujia sericifera</i>). It's the only one produced by this non-hardy vine that has survived a few too many winters here in Oregon. I grew if from seed. To see it set seed after several years is very exciting to me.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m5SLDjlb1wM/Um87pLWz_-I/AAAAAAAAGt0/JlZAVgQegG4/s1600/IMG_4207.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-m5SLDjlb1wM/Um87pLWz_-I/AAAAAAAAGt0/JlZAVgQegG4/s400/IMG_4207.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>The vine is in front of the house and isn't really that special. It chokes out all that gets in its way and I was getting tired of its unneighborly behavior. Then it bloomed rows of small, pretty white fragrant flowers and my dislike (aka hatred) for the plant relented.<br /><br />I am a proud mama now. I can't kill my baby. I've got to collect its seeds!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yi7xmXyvIm0/Um87vK6AljI/AAAAAAAAGt8/gKgNMFG2OaQ/s1600/IMG_4220.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yi7xmXyvIm0/Um87vK6AljI/AAAAAAAAGt8/gKgNMFG2OaQ/s400/IMG_4220.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The small autumn-blooming <i>Camellia</i> 'Silver Dollar' is currently bursting with blooms. I appreciate and admire its restraint and grace. So many of the other garden plants are dressed up like painted ladies this time of year. I love the little touch of class this plant offers my eyes.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ShUDWPonTOk/Um873krid8I/AAAAAAAAGuE/WdeF5eKWZFQ/s1600/IMG_4229.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ShUDWPonTOk/Um873krid8I/AAAAAAAAGuE/WdeF5eKWZFQ/s400/IMG_4229.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>The <i>Amsonia</i> I grew from seed a few years ago is looking beautiful next to this Plumbago (<i>Ceratostigma plumbaginoides</i>)—speaking of painted ladies!<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oUuWikm7NKg/Um88TNBgB3I/AAAAAAAAGuM/kGpJ6G1uVV4/s1600/IMG_4235.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oUuWikm7NKg/Um88TNBgB3I/AAAAAAAAGuM/kGpJ6G1uVV4/s400/IMG_4235.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>Life in the house and garden is changing though. Our family has changed and I'm working more and more outside of the house now.<br /><br />Maurice the Cat is ever the trooper and despite his age, arthritic pain, and weight problem, he's soldiering on and has enjoyed every last bit of sunshine he can grasp in his polydactyl paws.<br /><br />Cats do not like change and only now are they trusting that their lives are not being tossed hither and thither.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1SZez9ZkM9Q/Um88ghyE0AI/AAAAAAAAGug/hJmrHEM38wM/s1600/IMG_4261.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1SZez9ZkM9Q/Um88ghyE0AI/AAAAAAAAGug/hJmrHEM38wM/s400/IMG_4261.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>The leaves are changing and falling. The air is crisp and tonight we may have some frosty temps in the Portland metro area.<br /><br />It's a beautiful time of the year and I'm preparing again to participate in <a href="http://nanowrimo.org/">NaNoWriMo</a>.<br /><br />I'm writing a novel again in November—but unlike last year—this story is fully cooked and ready to go. I am also preparing to write many other things. Actually, I'm already doing so. It's time. I am well enough now.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EeUITx4x5PM/Um88sJy104I/AAAAAAAAGuk/K8Gqud7yDco/s1600/IMG_4264.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EeUITx4x5PM/Um88sJy104I/AAAAAAAAGuk/K8Gqud7yDco/s400/IMG_4264.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>There is still some physical recovery to do. A decade of illness is not easy to repair. I need to lose more weight. My blood pressure and heart need a break. I've lost a lot of weight and have continued to regain and build muscle but my body needs to be leaner and meaner. I am caring for me now and it feels good too.<br /><br />I will do all of these things that I've set out to do now. That's what I do. That's what I've always done. It's good to be me again.<br /><br />I'm working as a caregiver now, and I work all kinds of odd shifts with the elderly and those in hospice.<br /><br />Illness has prepared me for this and I'm comfortable and confident with what I'm doing.<br /><br />It's not a forever job, but for now, I'm enjoying the pleasure of working hard and the opportunity of getting to know new and interesting people.<br /><br />They've lived different lives than mine and we honor and respect one another as we work through basic daily tasks that have become increasingly more difficult for the clients. The adjustment has not been easy for me, but it's improving. I know what I'm doing and I know that I can help them.<br /><br />It feels good.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vAeU_F-L-1k/Um887TscKMI/AAAAAAAAGus/yueL3J3Osbk/s1600/IMG_4266.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vAeU_F-L-1k/Um887TscKMI/AAAAAAAAGus/yueL3J3Osbk/s400/IMG_4266.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>There's also a new dog in the family. My mother-in-law picked up this little cutie recently and although I'm not a dog person, I like her a lot. She has made my mother-in-law very happy and I've enjoyed seeing that, but the whole adoption process led to John and I craving a kitten.<br /><br />Between the two of us we have 5 cats. We do not need a kitten. (His two cats live with his mom and her new pup.) We just want one. Ugh.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q4NP1_rXpMU/Um89D5cuaeI/AAAAAAAAGu8/3Ml4-m_XykU/s1600/IMG_4276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-q4NP1_rXpMU/Um89D5cuaeI/AAAAAAAAGu8/3Ml4-m_XykU/s400/IMG_4276.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>This autumn we've talked a lot about eventually buying a place in the country near the ocean. I've thought about the garden it would have and what palate of plants I would pick. This is another project I'm working on right now.<br /><br />I've never really designed a project like this, but oddly, I'm ready and willing to accept the challenge.<br /><br />This has led to me thinking a lot about my own design aesthetic. I never knew I had one but it runs through almost everything I do. It ties into the novel writing, so I'm a happily contained little mind now. Inside I am germinating.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ID02xTC1Sw/Um88-qr7z-I/AAAAAAAAGu0/1ptBpDBmGS0/s1600/IMG_4296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--ID02xTC1Sw/Um88-qr7z-I/AAAAAAAAGu0/1ptBpDBmGS0/s400/IMG_4296.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>There have been many meals and many recipes recently. John has been cooking new things, learning new techniques in the kitchen, and he's been shopping at farmer's markets. As for me, I'm in love with my Cauliflower (<i>Brassica</i>) 'Minaret'. Yes, I've been cooking too, but I've been enjoying all of John's food more. I'm proud of him. He's a great cook.<br /><br />For me, food has become another job. This is a good thing—literally, a job! I'm still kind of in shock this even happened, but it did.<br /><br />So, it's exciting to announce this publicly. Here goes: I've been hired to work as a ghost blogger for a food blogger. That is all I can say, since I am obviously a <i>ghost</i> blogger, but to say that the experience is thrilling is an understatement. I want to be a paid writer. I crave it. I need it. I would like to continue working as an editor too. With this opportunity, I will be able to do <i>both</i> of these things.<br /><br />And from here it will only get better...<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0-QwvdAjT3w/Um89QXe-RXI/AAAAAAAAGvE/Zz4RDpGwrrA/s1600/IMG_4298.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0-QwvdAjT3w/Um89QXe-RXI/AAAAAAAAGvE/Zz4RDpGwrrA/s400/IMG_4298.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>Lastly, I've returned to arranging flowers and that's been good for me during the times when I still feel chronic pain from either swelling or injuries I sustained years ago. I'm arranging plant material weekly in an effort to relieve stress and to be creative. It gets my juices flowing and it gives me a problem to solve. I relish that kind of thing.<br /><br />The whole process brings a kind of value to my life that's irreplaceable.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cfbGiQmhL_s/Um89VawK3UI/AAAAAAAAGvM/y_B8RBRVM_4/s1600/IMG_4310.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cfbGiQmhL_s/Um89VawK3UI/AAAAAAAAGvM/y_B8RBRVM_4/s400/IMG_4310.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>It's still cleanup time in the garden—my garden: I'm still blogging, there are seeds to sow, I see a future garden to begin designing, and there are many words in the air. My mind has been swept and it is still a bit shady in there, but I see leaks of light and the words are in lines now that float and I can grasp their syntax.<br /><br />Someday I will describe the mind of chronic pain to show how dull and slow it can become and how one can lose so many words. The feelings and thoughts were all inside of me but I couldn't get them out. I struggled. I was inarticulate for so many years.<br /><br />It is difficult when the words come to me quickly now. I still feel as though I'm sitting behind the wheel of a fast car as the words pour out. I know that I am not yet as suave as I once was though, I'm rough, I repeat a lot. I could use better words—and I will.<br /><br />But I will use them for my novel and it will have a garden and it will have plants and there will be so many other wonderful things. My many layers are peeling away now and as winter comes low over the horizon from the cold north I will let the chilling winds lay bare that which I want so badly to articulate but have yet been unable to do so. </div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7778034964111352393.post-31567111820598472002013-10-23T10:12:00.002-07:002013-10-23T10:12:44.757-07:00Wordless Wednesday: Part One: A Tour of Bella Madrona aka The Garden of Sampson & Beasley <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wZC3C9kzUJQ/UmgBUdEh2LI/AAAAAAAAGss/LU-Sl_Kx-rk/s1600/IMG_1160.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wZC3C9kzUJQ/UmgBUdEh2LI/AAAAAAAAGss/LU-Sl_Kx-rk/s400/IMG_1160.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-DlUVX5cLKy4/Umf-S9uE5cI/AAAAAAAAGrI/XCYotY1M2Lo/s1600/IMG_1071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; 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margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vmKMS-Ngge8/UmgBbpeeEfI/AAAAAAAAGs4/6Ltv5lEkU4A/s400/IMG_3354.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div>Ann Amato-Zorichhttps://plus.google.com/113489851091603059217noreply@blogger.com4