Garden Oasis

I love to garden.  And I find it liberating to pitch the gloves and just dig in.  For me, planting seeds and watching them grow lifts and nurtures the spirit, enhances my sense of wonder; promotes peace and satisfaction, and when I planted vegetables there was the added bonus of pure freshness. These days I only start Nasturtiums and Morning Glories from seed, but I am still enthusiastic about gardening.

 I keep saying that I am going to limited the number of containers I plant. After all, if I plant too many, the water brigade usually falters.  Perhaps I am a slow learner, but in recent years I've discovered that if I live in a area with good ventilation the best time to water is in the early evening. Then as I walk through the door in the morning, while taking that furtive glance over my shoulder at the pots outside, I catch a glimpse of quilt free beauty. The flowers, instead of giving me that droopy fatalistic look that emphatically states it's all over but the crying, sing halleluiahs. And the grateful Sweet Alyssum sings the loudest. Preferring cool temperatures, Alyssum craves extra water in the summer. It's a prissy plant that needs grooming, too, but if I treat it especially well, this year, the new variegated leafed variety just might bloom all summer.  Time will tell.

P.S.  I caved and bought more plants today ~ so much for the manicure and something called limits...

"To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves."

Mahatma Gandhi

Catching the Drift

A hearty gathering of bird stories and lore.

When it comes to knitting and books, I always have a few projects/books on the go. I've tried over the years to finish one thing before I begin another, but I do like to drift.  Besides, at this point in my life, I don't want to out do, hurry or worry what's good, but I'm not always successful. And I do find certain half-read books need to age, and that gives me time to reflect and consider--to open to the possibilities.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I love hearing about other people's favourite books.  A Gift From The Sea is a book that was recommended to me. (Thank you, Penny.)  Although the book was written in the 50's, it's still relevant, pithy and near the end prophetic. (But, then, perhaps life for people in different time periods has always moved too fast.)

Moving on... the redundant use of the word one does tend to annoy. But even that is forgiveable because the book flings open the windows and doors and lets in the light.  It's, among a myriad of other things, about relationships, community, living in the now, simplicity, seeing and understanding; idleness, meditation and reflection, exploration, growth, balance, spirituality and the wait, and how tuning into nature fuels creativity, and, above all, it points to the importance of taking the time to nurture the soul as we journey.  Metaphorically speaking, it's a full catch!


After drifting from there to here, I usually feel renewed:  my eyes are open wider, my thoughts run clearer, and if I am lucky, I feel as though I've taken on a little gold. After reading the Gift From The Sea and The Faithful Gardener, I can safely say: mission accomplished.

 What's in bloom and what's on the grow...

Corn on the rise.

A stand of birch. Not quite enough for a new canoe.

 A smile to share... The man driving the car with these plates told me that his Dad bought the car in 2004, and that his Dad was the second driver in Canada to own a Smart car.
       

Yesterday, I read about Google's new car. It's a car without the usual trappings; apparently, you call it and it takes you where you want to go.

"The times they are [certainly] a changin." Dylan

Enjoy the weekend...

Woodland Hike

Roses are red; violets are gorgeous! Although I don't have a picture, luckily, I happened upon  a few yellow violets, too.

Sunny highlights for the white trillium.

Fiddleheads about to unfurl.

These pictures were taken about a week or so ago. Thankfully, the leaves are out now and the apple trees are blooming.

Two Nations

Thanks to the Queen of The Netherlands approximately one million tulips are now blooming throughout the city of Ottawa, attracting visitors from the city, the country, and, of course, from all of the world.

Last week blooms were scarce, so off I went again this weekend to discover that parking was beyond limited. As a matter-of-fact, it was impossible to get near the area that I wanted to be in without taking a shuttle. The good news: the pictures I took last week provide a clear view of the gardens.

The Man With Two Hats symbolic of the two Nations

Primrose Paths

The days are lovely now. Yesterday the temperature rose to 26C or 78F; a warm breeze caressed and the leaves on the trees popped out to celebrate the sun. Even the magnolia tree across the street, that I was certain had lost its buds in April because of the cold, burst into bloom. To top it off, the greenhouses are open. If I am lucky, I  sometimes find a few treasures that I've never seen first hand before such as the Ranunculus or Persian buttercup that I will share a picture of later, that is, I don't kill it with kindness.

Generally, it takes me a few days to cover the greenhouse circuit.  After all, touring greenhouses is a meditative pleasure of the savory kind.  While I stroll up and down the aisles, sometimes wayward hummingbirds dart to and from the flower baskets certain, as they sup, that they've found heaven. 

One of my favourite spring poems.

And in case you haven't seen it, here's a great link for the beautiful and free Styling Magazine by Coty Farquhar - Australia.
                                                                        

Enjoy the weekend!

Market Finds

Original painted in 1883

The Flea Markets have opened for the season, so on the weekend off I went. I haven't been to the markets for years, and, frankly, I was surprised by all the booty.  Among other things, I couldn't resist this print. As you can see the frame has pulled away at the top, but I am hoping it can be easily fixed. (If you happen to be a framer or have any suggestions, please leave a comment.) Also, the glass was scratched in several places, but a buffing with toothpaste on a soft cloth did the trick.

I found the name of the print thanks to Google. To Pastures New is by the Scottish painter James Guthrie. As soon as I saw this print, I knew I'd be taking it home.

I also have my eyes on a Limoges tea set, (too expensive for me, but I may make an offer next week if it is still there) and I'd love to own an antique secretary desk. Actually, there was a beautiful desk that an astute lady bought while I was admiring it.  Apparently, if you snooze you lose.
 
* * *
On the needles...

Year One ~ Reflections

Celebrator fare:  green tea and French Madelines.

I can't believe it! One year has passed since I started blogging. Although the time has flown by, in the beginning, like most new bloggers, I agonized over every post; but I am glad I took the leap because I've learned a lot and I've met some fabulous folks.

Not that I wasn't looking before, but this year, in particular, I've wandered across so many beautiful blogs that I really enjoy reading. Thank you bloggers!  

Finally, my hat goes off to those bloggers who post informative posts everyday or nearly everyday, with great pictures and content and still care about and find time to stop by to visit the new kids on the block. Long may you run!

Thanks for reading...

Water Colours

 While the turkey cooks, I've been having fun with an app called Waterlogue and I couldn't resist sharing a pic.

Enjoy Easter Sunday. I hope it's bright and sunny where you are!

A Tribute to Marquez

Gabriel Garcia Marquez

As a tribute to Mr. Marquez and the joy and the love of reading that his books have given me, I am re-posting a post that I wrote last May called Spotlight on Marquez.

I remember reading, at the end of The General and His Labyrinth, a paragraph that I interpreted as the likes of such a man would never pass this way again, but, although, at this time, that's fitting, Marquez's words, in that last paragraph, are much more profound: they drift past boundaries and echo.

And so it is with regret and with gratitude that I re-post this post, because for or a short time the world was given the blessing of  Mr. Marquez whose words tumbled golden from the depths of a deep soul.

                                                         My well-thumbed loved copy.

At the time, the price of One Hundred Years of Solitude:  $2.95.

Glorious book jackets.

Several years ago, I bought One Hundred Years of Solitude in a wonderful shop somewhere in the wilds of Jasper National Park, Alberta. At the time, I'm not sure, given the annoyingly small print, my lack of a dictionary, and my grasping inexperience as a reader, what I gleaned from it, but I was vaguely aware that I had found a treasure. And luckily, although somewhat daunted by the novel and with eye strain, I pressed on. As I read, I did, however, find that One Hundred Years of Solitude more than lived up to its back cover promise of surprise. In fact, the book proved as amazing as the elk that sauntered around, on too tall legs, outside my rented cabin--close yet distant, understandable in form yet wildly mysterious.

Márquez's seamless ability to incorporate magic realism into his novels does surprise, delight and astound.  In One Hundred Years of Solitude, there is a focus on ice.  Nothing unusual--sans magic, but try to explain ice to someone who has never seen it. For example how would you explain ice to an individual from Amazonian Lost Tribe?  (And, yes, speaking of amazing things there are still a few tribes out there!) Could you describe ice so that they could understand? And, more importantly, if you put a piece of  ice in the person's hand, how would they react? What would they think?  In that context and in the context the novel, ice moves from the ordinary to the miraculous.

Eclipsed

Finally, a glorious, warm day with a high south-west wind that roared high above the trees, creating a feeling of absolute freedom.

After such a long siege of cold weather, it's difficult, without checking the temperature, to believe in a warm day-- note the winter jacket, but I did have a sun hat in the car so all was not lost.

Four hawks were soaring above us, covering the territory in ever widening circles, searching for a bite to eat in the marshlands.

                                                                           Gloriously green.

In spite of the frozen brooks and tenacious pockets of snow, the trees are budding. O, spring!

Off the needles... Rav notes and more pics here.


Thanks for reading... Happy Easter! 

Hooked on Rugs

In a previous post, I mentioned an antique rug and promised to post a few pictures. This rug is approximately 100 years old and was made from scraps of old clothing, etc. As you can see, the rug has never been finished, nor has it been used so the colours are vibrant. 

A lot of forethought went into this project. I admire the colours they choose [I know where this rug came from] and, to me, it's amazing that they had enough scraps to complete each square to near perfection. (There are a few colour changes and perhaps materials in the non-flowered sections.)

Besides old houses, old rugs, and tin ceilings, I also love canvas floor cloths. Several years ago, I thought about reproducing one, but without a kit I'm sure I'd be lost.

Have a great week!

On the Move

I've been moving, but when I take my head out of a box, I've found a little time to knit here and there. And this weekend, after my books are unpacked and put in order, I may reward myself with a marathon viewing of Pride and Prejudice. It's high time!

Two days ago, I saw two robins. Since we are still inundated with snow, I am not sure what they are eating, [poor things] but what a welcome sight!

Enjoy the weekend...