When You're Not Really in the Garden

These last 3 weeks I've meant to be here more, and I've meant to be in my garden, but the medical requirement to walk 15-20 miles per week has been taking up a lot of my time. 

Just a few weeks back, I had the pleasure of walking 6 miles during a really great thunderstorm. Yes, this was classic Portland in the spring.

From the Hawthorne District, I could look back and see where I'd come from and at this point I was a bit worried about the rain that was coming. (Mt Tabor is the green hill you can see far off in the distance.)

By the time the rain started to pour, I was already well on my way home.

Wet and cold, the sky continued to darken but the sunset was nice that night.

Rosa 'Golden Showers'.

When I go on my walks, as I round the corner for home, I can now see my roses blooming more and more frequently. Sometimes I think of my garden as one big neon billboard exclaiming some really colorful person lives here. I like it this time of year as the jungle begins to take over and there is a different world outside my window. 

Oftentimes I see gardens that I think look nice, but are too patterned. I might have a jungle, but these lines really fascinate me because they boggled my brain a bit. I'd rather have a jungle.

Always before reaching home I wander the reservoir at Mount Tabor Park to get in some extra miles. It is such a beautiful place to walk. I walk over the hill you see there in the background and reach home that way. It is such a wonderful place to live. 

This past Sunday I walked to the store to purchase ingredients for a lemon tart I was making for a party later that evening and I ran into what I later discovered was a swarm of bees. It was just waiting here until the group could determine where to go. What an amazing thing to watch. One moment it was there, the next it was gone. I wish I could have seen them at the moment when they all flew away.

Later that same day, after the tart was partially completed, I walked over to Portland Nursery to purchase some heirloom tomato plants from myself and a friend. Along the way I spotted this old mattress frame being used as a trellis support. This isn't exactly my style, but I do love its lines and conical rust-colored squiggles as the grid floats there in the air.

Yes, I am sure this post is a bit random, but when you're not really in the garden, so often you are, aren't you?

My First Citrus Lesson—and a bunch of other stuff from California

Wintersweet aka Chimonanthus in bloom.

Yesterday our friend—and host during a portion of our trip—took me to visit his friend's tree nursery in the city of Napa: Main Street Trees. One of the first things we saw was this amazing Wintersweet shrub in bloom and immediately I knew I wanted to use some of it for an ikebana arrangement. 

Even on the dashboard I loved its angularity. 

Later, after driving north to the vineyard in Kelseyville, I assembled this ikebana with some pine and pretty dried out roses that had overwintered near the winery.

But I'd mentioned in the title of this post that I'd had my first Citrus lesson, right?

The candied pieces at the bottom of this image are from a Buddha's Hand. 

It was amazing to try so many fruits I'd only seen pictures of in books.

This was a lime that my friend rolled around in his hands to release its oils. The scent was heavenly but we didn't eat it. I was more than content just to stare at it.

As you can see, our hostess was incredibly generous, and best of all, she served a blood orange—one of my favorites.

Beforehand, we'd walk through the labyrinth of trees at the nursery with their Bengal cat. I'd never seen one in person before and I have to admit that I was probably a bit more into the cat than I needed to be but I do miss my own herd back home.

This is Willow, their German Shepard. Oh!, plant people and their pets. I get it and I imagine you do too.

This is not the best image, but I had to add it. I found the juxtaposition of an olive tree and a Sequoia to be a bit like the famous surrealist quote taken from the Comte de Lautréamont's Les Chants de Maldoror: "Beautiful as the chance encounter of a sewing machine and an umbrella on a dissecting table."

It reminded me to always think over plant associations.

 

There were bees—lots of bees, and I heard hens, but unfortunately, we had to run so I didn't get to visit with them.

Just as we were about to leave, I snapped an image of this timber bamboo. That stuff really is incredibly beautiful.

During my drive I kept thinking about this picture I'd snapped while visiting. It was my eldest niece's 20th birthday yesterday and she has a tattoo of a California poppy. Seeing the roses only reminded me of home: Portland, aka the City of Roses. I didn't drink any of the wine, but I liked the label, and besides, wine is the connection now between the two states we go back and forth between. 

Hours later, I made this ikebana for my niece's 20th birthday. Like myself, she loves dark and mysterious things that are a bit quirky and I knew she'd love this slightly dark olive and pomegranate arrangement.

Ciao from Lake County, California...