She can shove a plant through concrete

With all the changes going on in my life lately, I haven't been doing as much (well, none at all) gardening as I did last summer. I planted a few things, but nothing close to the gardening frenzy I slipped into last year.  Each day as I leave for work, I glance to the right of the porch, hoping for a sign that the concrete-busting columbine is reappearing.

But, so far, nothing.

Yesterday, the masochist in me decided it would be a good idea to spend a couple hours in the scorching heat, weeding the shade beds I planted last year. Today, when I went out to weed the front walk, I found this little beauty smiling up at me.

Hellooooooo!

I like to think it's MMN (Mistress Mother Nature)'s way of showing her appreciation. But then again, it could just be her way of saying "Take care of my babies, or I'll shove a plant up your crack."

Either way, message received loud and clear.

Yes, Ma'am.

A sign of Spring

Of all the plantings in my garden, this one blossomed before any other. The sight of it made me smile and  hit me like a warm hug. 

She loves me

She is still there... no matter what. And that brings me a sense of security and hope for the future. No matter what, life goes on. 

So even though I probably won't be living here next year, I will still tend to the garden as long as I am here. Hopefully, whoever lives here next will do the same. 

If not, they will just have to be whipped into shape by Mistress Mother Nature. 

No Power Exchange here - it's all about HER

Every time I get a little full of myself and forget who holds the power,  Mother Nature reminds me she calls the shots around here.

I love hydrangeas so a few years ago, I planted a couple at the front corners of my house. Each year they get more lush and full, and I see a few more blooms. This year, they were looking great - one flowered towards the end of the summer and the other was not far behind. I was thrilled.

And then I made the mistake of bragging that my hydrangeas looked better than the neighbor's.

RIP Hydrangea

That night we had an early frost.

And yet... that Pink Columbine that magically appeared in my garden this summer is freakishly healthy.

Look at me I'm GREEN!!!

It's like she's rubbing my nose in it.

There she is...

Linda Hamilton

Injected, rubbed and restrained... and spent.

The slut.

There is a body in my trunk...

Well, I drive a Jeep Cherokee so I don't actually have a trunk. But there is a space behind the back seat - and there is currently a body in it.

A dead body.

Dead, dismembered and drained.

Her feet are in a separate bag...

I didn't know her before her untimely demise, but I suspect she is a Hamilton.

 Note the strong family resemblance

Sparky and his BFF (My Sister-Wife, Geno) used to roast pigs in a huge oil drum in Geno's backyard.   Everyone else loved to watch the pig spin while drinking copious amounts of beer and tequila but since I don't drink all that much, the sight of a corpse rotisserie-ing all day in a rusty oil drum was less than appetizing.

Then, I discovered La Caja China!

I saw Roberto kick Bobby Flay's butt in a Pork Shoulder Throwdown and I was sold. I had found THE PERFECT CHRISTMAS GIFT for my husband.  (We've been married 27 years - I ran out of great gift ideas around 15 years ago, so this was a true Christmas miracle.)

I knew it was a hit when Sparky assembled the box in the middle of my living room on Christmas Eve. Since then, there's been no stopping him. Several times a year, Sparky whips out his Caja China and cooks up a pig.

It's a big production, mind you. He restrains the pig spread-eagled on a rack, injects the pig with secret juice, then he rubs the pig all over with coarse salt and spices...

'Scuse me... had a little "50 Shades of Pork" moment there...'

Anyhow, a friend of Son O'Mine is having a party tomorrow and he asked Sparky to roast a pig. So,  at this very moment, he's out there restraining and injecting and rubbbbbbing...

I'm going to watch.

Hey, I'm old... I take my thrills wherever I can.

50 Shades of Pink

Blooming, Blooming, Blooming!

Ever since that last post about Her, this concrete-busting columbine plant has been in perpetual bloom.  Feeling lucky, I bought and planted a blue columbine nearby. Within a day, every friggin' flower fell off the plant.

Blue Columbloomless

To make Her point, this is what sprouted up about 7 inches from the blue plant ...

Ta dah!

Just in case the message was unclear... Mistress Mother Nature (I once again surrender to Her Supreme Awesomeness) prefers the columbines in this garden pink.

Now if only she could do something about the Bear's wardrobe...

50 Shades of Green

Some people picture Mother Nature as a benevolent, loving Earth-mother hippie chick. Not me, I see her more like this:

Yes, Mistress

She is a harsh Mistress. We live on her planet. Our purpose here is to serve Nature.  

Some people have this misguided idea that they can control Nature. Take for example, my neighbor - the Ninja Gardener.   She spends enormous amounts of time and energy mowing and planting and weeding and watering and weed-whacking and fertilizing… and yet, her lawn still looks like a brown and yellow patchwork quilt.

Other “suburbians” pay exorbitant prices for lawn services in their quest for perfect green-ness.  A huge truck comes to your home weekly and full grown lawn gnomes spill out and spray a chemical soup on your grass and then disappear. They leave behind tiny white flags and a lawn that looks like Astroturf.  

Not me. I have accepted Mother Nature’s dominance over me. I embrace the dandelions and in return, she scatters my yard with violets and 4 leaf clovers, and later in the summer – wild strawberries.

It took me a while to get it. When we first bought this house, I planted a columbine in the front yard, but it didn’t take. I planted another one in that same perfect, shady spot the next year, but it died within a month. I tried a third year, same result. (OK, so I’m persistent) Then, I gave up. And that same spring … a beautiful pink columbine sprouted through the concrete between the stones on my front walk. I’ve tried to dig it up, but it persistently comes back every year, bigger and more vigorous than the year before.

She wants it HERE

I take this as a direct message from Mother Nature. “Surrender, Fool – Resistance is futile.”

Last year, I didn’t do any yard work. Didn’t clean out the flowerbeds, didn’t weed… and the Dogwood tree in the front yard didn’t blossom.  This year, I’ve been diligently caring for the yard… and look.

My Dogwood Tree :)

But now I’ve got to cover my petunias.

There are little white flags on the lawn across the street.

The Weatherman is predicting frost tonight.

Some folks never learn.