May Showers

Gloriosky, the first rose in my garden. Cecile Brunner, my dainty sweetness who greeted me this morning. Not that I've caught up but I finally couldn't ignore the great goings-on outside any longer and so I traipsed outdoors with my camera today and took a few shots for you. These messages from nature uplift me more than I can express. That I can still see, smell and caress the beauty that surrounds me. Deep joy.

I've turned to the journal more than usual as I've navigated recent loss and disappointment. Talking to myself gently. Encouraging myself and coaxing myself to get up and go on. It's been up and down.

Here is my hero, planting tomatoes in the garden. He of the rough, dry hands that never passes by without an encouraging smile and kiss. He just came in and peeked over my shoulder to see what I was doing and he smelled like fish fertilizer. That's my man. I like anything he smells like.

Earlier this week we had a whacking good hail storm that punched holes in the spinach and flattened the heads on the irises.

But here they are this morning in the sunshine, no worse for the wear. These are the irises that smell like grape kool aid that I brought to this house eleven years ago from Orenco. From Mrs. Sharp who gave them to me who has passed on now. She brought me freshly baked bread and pie when we lived next door. She was a good woman to visit and I miss her more than I would have expected. She lives on for me though in these irises.

A school friend who found me on Facebook sent me the photograph from when we were in the Brownies together as young girls. I was so happy to have that photograph again. I wish I still had my beanie and my Brownie pin. I still remember the songs we sang and the girls in my troop. (Troop 19, remember Virginia?)

Last night I pulled a big tub of greens from this planting and tonight I'll make a pasta dish that calls for 4 cups of spinach. I'm thinking if it worked for Popeye it can't hurt me.

We have columbine in every color and shape imaginable. I love how every season brings new surprises in the garden. I don't plant anything myself any more. I just wait to see what Mother Nature brings me.

The leeks and fava beans are powering skyward. Is there anything more tender and mouth watering than baby favas stirred gently in hot olive oil with shallots? Oh, heavens, soon we'll have them!

One of my goals in Cincinnati was to sample Goetta but the occasion did not present itself. It sounds like the way my mother used to make meat loaf. She always added oats to the ground beef and spices. Maybe based on some Illinois version of Ohio's famous dish. I don't make meat loaf myself but I'd eat some now if I had it.

It's so easy to think that the things you look at every day are common but we have to remember that readers of blogs are often in hemispheres outside our own with different seasons and zones. So anyway, this is what's happening at the 45th parallel in the Pacific Northwest. Juicy rhododendrons.

New Zealand spinach. We love this variety. It's quite hardy here and yummy in a Wilted Spinach Salad with bacon and hot vinegar. Gee, how does one talk about one's garden without getting hungry?

The Siberian irises are beginning to pop. I just gave a ball of this variety to my friend last week. I hope hers are blooming now too. This is one of my favorite irises (I have lots of favorites).

This is a very shy and delicate rhody. She must have a name like blushing nymph or such like. 

Busy busy.

Mountain Bluett. Thank goodness it's hardy as it's competing with evil blackberries.

I thought this was a good thing to leave you with today. We just have to hitch up our britches and try. And oh, the joy when we surprise ourselves and discover that we can make things happen and that we have powers beyond our expectations. That we can do the things that bring us joy.