Wordless Wednesday

Dad, 1929

Bleeding Hearts Abound

My grandmother would pull these up and claim they were weeds. I have enough for every broken heart in my neighborhood. A branch for my special aqua, hand-blown glass, which is a mini vase. My heart is bleeding from yet another bout of drugs and more fun with strange injections at the end of the month.

And a small shrub for RC, to plant in a shady or partially sunny yard. No maintenance really necessary, although I sprinkle it with the same plant food I use for my roses (which are doing pitifully). Every year your plant will reappear in late April or early May, and may get as tall as 5 feet.

And a lovely shrub for WT, to grow into a largish bush just perfect for Belle. It would be Belle's Bush, and you could tell people it's a special variety which thrives on dog pee.

And Black Sheeped might need one for Monk and Cab to investigate, partially eat, and then decide it's not worth being potty place. But after it grows and makes more shade, it will be a good napping place.

And if Mrs. Gunslinger didn't live in 100 degree temps with no rain, she could use one too.

You can get them from your local nursery....or go to the deer-proof site on my blogroll. A bit more expensive, but then grown in a tried and true native area.

Actually, I don't think anyone can have too many bleeding hearts hiding in the shade or crowding out a late tulip or two. They remind me of all the times I've had a bleeding heart, which always mends, and the need to be reminded of heartbreak to appreciate the riot of summer roses.

I don't care if they were Granny's weeds. They're important in my garden.

Wordless Wednesday

Waiting for Spring
Click for larger image.

Motes Jumble Sale

Mr. Pi is out of town, and the house feels big and empty. The cats are just starting to get nervous, realizing that he did not come home last night and is not up and about this morning.

I am blue, despite the profusion of tulips and daffodils and blooming trees. I should be happier, considering that I caught 2 bunnies in the act of munching and successfully driving them off with a good spray from the hose. They always run next door, where our very very old neighbors live. I think the rabbits live there because the owners are too old to chase them.

As beautiful as it looks, it's cold outside, with a wind chill near freezing. Otherwise I would venture out, camera in hand, and go to the botanical gardens. The humid jungle-like specimens, with the birds and frogs would have cheered me up a lot. And the cacti room would be hot and dry.

I have finished my series of detective novels set in Botswana. There is a new one out, but in hardcover. No paperback until 2009. I wonder how much it costs to go to Botswana?

Journeys are on my mind. I am craving the rolling hills near Santa Barbara or the village in England where I lived as a child. Perhaps a little walking tour, following the advice of Mr Frank Bottomley in The Explorer's Guide to the Abbeys, Monasteries, and Churches of Great Britain, complete with ratings on the condition of ruins and whether it's really worth the trek to see Little Coggleshall.

Instead, today I will do housework and remember St. Mark's in Venice and the murals of Pompeii (which I had to sneak into as the Italian guards thought 12 was way too young to see such goings-on), or maybe the sounds of the lions roaring from the zoo in Khartoum at night. They don't roar any more. Since the war, most of the animals have died of starvation there. Like everyone else in Sudan.

And later, I'll try to do some online research on the new cousins (I use the term loosely) related to Rachel Lucretia and The Lost Boy. Since I'm RL's direct descendant, all the info on her brothers will be of the cousinly type, but I do have some new and interesting bits on them.

Well, if I don't start cleaning the carpets now, I will put it off until tomorrow, which is becoming a more appealing option every time it crosses my mind. I may just sit for a while with Mr Bottomley's (what an unfortunate name) book and try to find abbeys that are A quality and not E, and then get out my atlas and see if I can put together a walking trip. Or not.

Ah, tomorrow is Wordless Wednesday. Saved by the camera.

Wordless Wednesday

Pink Hyacinth

No Privacy

Not even to brush my teeth.







Tiger is everywhere, my personal bodyguard.

It's a good thing that your front claws can no longer rip their way through a closed door. Heaven forbid I close a door, type on my keyboard, cook, or do laundry without your supervision.

I dare you to get in the shower with me though.

As the Garden Goes

When I last reported on the state of the garden, birds of all types were looking for real estate. These two trees are particularly sought after spots. Last year Mr. and Mrs. Cardinal had the blue spruce, and were proud of it. There was a lot of cardinal noise in the yard last year. I'm not sure who got the cedar to the right.

However, this year the Mourning Doves got the coveted blue spruce. I watched them as they carefully but very quickly built their nest, but couldn't find it in the foliage. At last I caught Mother Dove sitting in the nest. Not wanting to disturb her, this was as close as I could get. The only sad thing about the doves in the spruce is that now that they've mated, they've stopped singing. And I think the Cardinals moved to the yard next door in a huff.

Around the first of April the pussy willow decided to break out in its velvet flowers.

Today they looked like this.








The garden wars are not over yet. Yes, say hello to my half-eaten tulips. I had to chase 2 brazen rabbits away last night. They didn't even move until I was only a few feet away.

Stay tuned, for yet more stuff has been happening. I've found a few more dead relatives I'm sure you're panting to read about, and I have to let you know how liberal sprinkling of cayenne pepper works as a bunny repellent. Au resevoir for now. I'm off for a shower and a sunset on the porch.