Friday, August 21, 2009


I managed to take one picture before this exquisite example of creation escaped back to bugland.
I'm assuming that he was a little misguided in the quest for a sunset mosquito feast , and inadvertently spent the night trapped on the inside of our sliding door screen.

I played with the saturation and sharpness as the original was a little muted .
I was thrilled to see a more stunning and alive dragonfly emerge .

This past week was jungle humid . Clients' gardens that are near the lake, buzz and hum with white flies, moths, butterflies, mosquitoes. Snails , slugs, and spiders tenaciously rebuild and reclaim.
Sweat drips from all the nooks and crannies of a body. Dust clings. Energy wanes.

I found myself on more than one occasion grumbling about left in the way pool toys, crowded pathways, awkward plant groups in tight corners or on sloped rock formations.

I sneered at unrolled hoses and storm strewn patio chairs.

I cursed the limp and tedious daylily foliage and Annabelle Hydrangeas.

It was all I could do drag the soggy debris bags and tools and myself back home.

Flat . Blah. Muted.

The true colours of my impatience showing through in the glisten and itch of perspiration .

I wish it was as easy as adjusting the tones and hues to make a vivid elegant me pop on demand.

That when we're trapped with little control over the outcome , between the dark and the light, someone would see it there. Free us and know we radiate.

So we can get back to riding the breeze and staying close to water.


Tuesday, August 18, 2009


In the spirit of this post, I am sharing some of the colour, the light and dark, the imperfect, the wouldn't trade it for anything, of our garden space.

It is sanctuary and swaying humming life.

It has changed over the years, with knowledge and wisdom. It changes enough in the seasons to keep me growing there too.

Friday, August 14, 2009


A gentle note to homeowners who plan extended vacations.
Perhaps a scheduled visit before the path to the doorway disappears could be an option.

I am experiencing blogger stubbornitis this morning, but that is okay. Imagine the pictures where they should be, and the text properly aligned and paragraphed. The point of this is clear. That many of my days are spent in toil such as this. I sing a little clean up song, Molly from Big Comfy Couch forever in my mommy brain, wishing I was as flexible, glad for the kneepads. Yes that is me looking so glam with the bucket.

Now , that's better. Although there is still some definition needed along the side where the potentilla and hydrangeas are in stubborn knots. Next time. The best part of this day was that I was working with the sweetest jaw dropping bundle of energy . And she's hot too. And I mean that in an even though us gardener moms wear such fabulous outfits and smell like mosquito repellent, we still got it way. Not that we're just sweaty and wilted. She is the giving and patient soul, who understood mine, and encouraged me to take a chance and do something that I wouldn't have without her. I still sub-contract most of the clients from her. Or if I am really lucky, with her. That is a path I am so so grateful to be on. Crawling and tripping and scrapping and revealing the door.
A friend like that feels like a vacation all the time.

Monday, August 10, 2009


I have a few posts under construction.

Yet, I find this point in the season brings a bit of a pause, before the slide into constant deadheading and cutting back as perennials fade away.
The late bloomers are getting ready to show off, and in most of the properties I help maintain, the weeds are largely under control.
Sort of . Somewhat.
The heavy and frequent rainfall has transformed some spaces into mini jungles.
Slugs, snails, spiders take up residence greedily.

Weeds suddenly appear as carpets, or flowering science fiction sized intruders . I've walked by a section or two thinking all was well with the Rubeckia bed filled out to meet the Autumn Joy Sedum patch, when suddenly I feel the need to quick draw my L tool and pruners , two fisted and quaking with flashbacks to Day of the Triffads.

The tiny vegetable garden at the side of our property finally provided a few tomatoes, the just red enough much awaited beauties hanging like too heavy earrings on the soggy drooping stems, low enough that the slugs that glisten on my interlocking stone are even "sluggier", flesh oozing a ruby glow of evidence. My windowsill is now lined with greenish hope.

Peculiar weather perhaps, but the lushness ! The thickness of air and green. It feels voluptuous. Vines and shrubs and lawns that usually know enough to modestly share the parched and tired soil, now wave and spill over and flatter .
Tempting .
Drink this up and into , the cool refreshing abundance.
Feel the vigour, the ripeness.
Know this joy for awhile.
Let it stroke your soul and adorn dull routines.

Soon enough September breezes will remind everyone to behave .

So for a short while longer, I'll let the gardens party, and use the sheers and edgers sparingly.
I'll gulp it down greedily too.