Wordless Wednesday: The gardener is here, there—everywhere!!!

Rhododendron sinogrande.

What plant for the cat this year?

I'm currently finding homes for all of this poor babies. No. I am NOT a plant hoarder.

Dear St. Fiacre, please grant me garden sanity and grace before I lose my mind. This garden is out of control and I cannot just "let it go". I did that already and it didn't work. 

So I'm still only showing you the same old view of the backyard. 

Roses and cherries as seen during a neighborhood walk. I do love this time of year.

Wordless Wednesday: Walking in Winter

The Plant / Music / Writing Room is Growing

Almost everything which matters to me now as a woman—and as a creative individual with an identity that I must nurture and respect so that I can be who I need to be—currently resides with me in this room. 

I've assembled this cocoon to incubate in as I prepare for the next stage in my life. It's like my own little Jiffy pod to germinate in and to begin growing my new taproot so that I can transplant myself when it's time to go. 

I am growing past just being a gardener. I am branching out and reaching for the sun.

Soon, I will be practicing the piano again and I will be thinking of the peace this instrument gave my Grandma Virginia for many years. She loved her piano and I want to honor that by finally enjoying it too. 

I hope the plants won't mind!

Oh, and speaking of plants, they are at the core of my specially arranged space and there will be more to come! This room will be stuffed with plants all winter. 

Soon the vine attached to this window screen will dieback for the winter. Then the winter sun will shine brighter and the walls will grow colder as the Eastern winds hit the back of the house.

I will keep the painting of Paris by my side at all times to remind me of what's to come.

This is the view looking back into the creative space from the dining room.

Monkey Puzzle Tree, Araucaria araucana. 

To get away from this space though—and from all of the work I've been doing around the house—I've vowed to get out of the house for at least one weekend each month.

This past weekend I went to my father's house just north of Astoria in a small community in southwestern Washington. I awoke to the sounds of chainsaws in the hills and when I walked into the kitchen each morning to make my morning coffee, I'd stand at the window and contemplate the Monkey Puzzle Tree while my coffee brewed.

In an effort to get some writing done, I also went to my father's house to be alone and to be inspired. 

For several days I watched the birds as they'd fly up and down the small coastal river behind the house. They were greedily picking at what remained of the salmon from the last run this season. The fish really do spawn and die and yet they still give back to the natural world until every last bone is picked clean.  

The day I left for the trip I went for a five-mile walk beforehand to a specialty grocery store in SE Portland to pick up some special gluten-free ingredients.

While strolling along, I saw this unusual garden ornament and I thought about how funny it was to see a doll in the garden. It tickled my inner goth girl.

But best of all, that day as I walked, before I took off to write, after I'd just finished nesting in my new creative space I saw what I can only call: The writing on the wall.

Wordless Wednesday: The End of a Season

Berries, Vines, Seeds, and a Giant Impatiens

This past Friday evening I went for a nice long walk. Once part of my weekly routine, I've been too busy recently to add another 6 miles onto my week—at least not on that day. So I was happy to wander around for several hours as the city came alive with its nightlife and the Blue Moon rose up over Portland.

Sambucus nigra.

Not far from home I ran into this gorgeous black elderberry shrub. It was all dressed up for the season.

Sambucus nigra.  

Seeing it reminded me that summer is really over. It's too bad we didn't have much heat at all, but I'm grateful I barely had to water this year. With all of the walking and activities too, I've barely taken care of my plants. For a long time I felt poorly about that, but the exercising has truly improved my health a great deal.

Ampelopsis brevipedunculata.

Not far from the elderberry I saw the difficult-to-miss berries of a porcelain berry vine. An Asian plant, it's considered invasive in much of the Eastern US though here in the NW it doesn't seem to be taking anything over just yet. 

I just love those candy-colored berries though.

Ampelopsis brevipedunculata.

According to one site the vine was introduced from Asia in 1870 as an ornamental and landscaping plant. This must have been really pretty beside some lovely Victorian home.

Euphorbia lathyris. 

Back at home I have a few plants that are blog worthy. First off is this caper spurge or mole plant. I've been meaning to write about it for some time.

Loree from over at Danger Garden noticed several of these popping up in my garden last spring and she knew what they were immediately. I had no idea at first, but then I remembered I'd ordered some special Euphorbia seeds at some point.

When things don't germinate, I often just toss the seed starting soil out into the garden. Well, this is what happens when you do that.

It's like Christmas to me. I won't lie.

Impatiens tinctoria. 

Another great plant I have is the giant Impatiens tinctoria. Its blooms are amazing, but I have to admit I've neglected this African rainforest plant a bit by not mulching it enough this year. At least I still get the blooms though and it's been hardy in my garden now for at least a year.

Impatiens tinctoria.

You can see that the leaves did get a bit scorched. It probably should be moved to a more protected spot.

Actaea pachypoda.

Lastly, there's my doll's eyes (or white baneberry) plant. The Actaea is native to the Eastern US and I have to say that the plant's common name thrills me with its creepiness. It's by far one of the best plants to get me in the mood for Halloween.

Probably not a bad thing to start thinking about as we shift gears and move indoors more and more.

Passiflora 'Blue Crown' as it makes a run for it.

Wordless Wednesday: A Long Walk Before Dark...

Will Walk for Seeds

A few weeks ago I attended an event hosted by the The Hardy Plant Society of Oregon entitled "Seed Collecting: Where the Wild Things Grow with Steve Newall". Reflecting on the experience—that of meeting and listening to the exploits of a real seed collector and seed grower—has been good for me.

Sitting down to talk with Steve was really centering for me since due to my current life situation I've been a bit uneasy in general. Everything in my life is still swirling around but my love and interest in seeds is always there in the middle of it all. (Imagine my comfort in knowing that seeds are immovable in this windy storm and I cling to them and they make me feel so good. It's so silly but it's all true.)  

To talk to someone who truly understands me was really soothing during a time in life when there are so few healing balms other than self-inflicted silence and self-discovery. These things might sound great, but when it really matters, and a lot is on the line, there can be a frightening bleakness to the darkness as you sit watching and listening to it while your impatience grows. The seeds that germinate in this darkness are scary to me, but I am patient enough now to sit through the process even if it's really hard for me to sit still sometimes. 

How do you tell the people around you that you want to create a life where you're able to run off and collect seeds when you feel like it? It's not like I do this for science! I am an Amateur Bot-ann-ist after all. For me it's just this compulsion that comes from deep inside that drives me to love seed propagation and I just cannot get enough. 

I was told it was, like, a skill. How odd!?!

So seed spotting is now what I jokingly refer to as my super power. Too bad I'm not a super hero though...

Asclepias speciosa seeds I collected last year.

If I could I'd spend all day working and thinking about seeds. How I came to this, I'll never know. Maybe it's genetic so I'll just thank my forefathers and foremothers.

Ricinus communis seeds from Loree over at Danger Garden.

But this past week I had another major HAE swelling attack from all the activity and emotional stuff going on in my life. I anticipated it though because I knew that driving 6 hours by myself was not a great idea—especially after walking over 20 miles last week. 

It made me doubt I could be a seed hunter, but that doubt passed rather quickly and I redoubled my efforts by getting some advice from my chiropractor. I'm now targeting key muscles groups that are weaker than they should be and I'm hoping this will help me to overcome some of the exhaustion I've been experiencing. (Never underestimate the pain that can be caused when one group of muscles repeatedly overcompensates for another.) 

Staircase at Mount Tabor Park. I trotted up these stairs for the first time last week at a pace I was almost proud of and it felt great.

So during this "rest" week I've been sorting and cleaning the house—including my workspace—and it's obvious how strongly I've resisted dealing with a lot of my own personal things up until now. I'm grasping them though, both literally and figuratively, and am thinking more and more about seeds as summer has started and there will be more and more of them soon.

As a matter of fact, I've already asked one friend to accompany me on a seed collecting trip. I've always gone by myself because I haven't ventured very far into the wild in awhile. I am going to dip my toe into that pool soon. I don't expect much, but it's the act itself that's already beginning to change me.

Lunaria annua might be a weed, but its seedpods will always be a favorite of mine. 

There are these little things that are popping up in the darkness inside of me that I've been staring into for awhile now. They are sprouting and seeking out the light. My eyes are so sore from starting into the abyss for this long, but I think it's time for me to sit back and breathe a sigh of relief.

Some of the many stairs in Mount Tabor Park. 

I walk now and it's not about the past so much, it's about my future. Funny how I see seeds everywhere I go and when I do I always think of hope.

More of the Mount Tabor stairway.

The silence that used to bother me so much is becoming more and more the memory of who I am and who I once was but had forgotten. 

Calendula officinalis seeds. 

I think of the silence often now that surrounds the life of seeds since the lives of plants are so quiet compared to ours.

So often I meet gardeners who tell me they're afraid to grow plants from seed because seedlings are so delicate and weak they're afraid they'll hurt or kill them.

This always makes me chuckle a little bit.

Aurinia saxatilis seeds.

Yes, the activity might require some patience and careful observation but never underestimate the power of any living plant or animal that wants to survive—and this might also be applicable to some of the people you know in your own life.

Someday it might even apply to you.