While farmers and livestock owners do not particularly like thistles, I have always thought they were some of the most loveliest of plants. The purple blooms against the dull green leaves provides a perfect contrast. They are considered noxious weeds to be dug out whenever possible along with multiflora roses planted many years ago as directed by the government to control erosion.
Then there is the delicate Queen Anne’s Lace. I’ve never seen it cropped by cattle and so it remains on the fence rows untouched along with the thistle. Finches like the thistle seed; thistle seed being a component of commercial bird seed mixes.
It was too early in the season to see finches working the thistles; maybe I will return later this summer or early fall and catch a glimpse of them.
When two people have multiple interests and they all involved collecting things—whether it be digitally or physically, there comes a time when sorting and discarding must happen.
I’ve been working on finishing up physical projects but then there is the mess on my lap-top with dozens of photos, files, and documents. I seem to get lost in the file cabinets of lap-tops and end up with several similar documents/photos—-and now I am struggling to find things.
This part of Texas has the capability of flowers nearly year round. For someone accustomed to the black, gray, white bleakness of the long Wisconsin winters, it is not surprising I take a lot of flower photos.
This was last year in July.
And here is another view of those flowers.
And at the same time I was working on the Quilt Show’s block of the Month. There were a gazillion double nine-patch blocks to be made with the individual small colored squares finishing at about an inch.
That wooden thing was my grandmother’s. She had a full set of fancy dress-making/tailoring pressing items–this one was for pressing the corners of colors but also serves as a weight for pressing. I never thought of her as a fashionista but her mother-in-law was a fancy seamstress and so she might have done this in the spirit of competition. For her high school graduation, she had to hand sew with French seams a very fancy white blouse. Somewhere I have a photo of that—somewhere—I’ll find it—some day but not today.
One day I remarked to my father, that I wished I had some rhubarb. He looked at me and said—if I put up a notice in the bank (town of 300) and left my truck in their parking lot, I would have a bed full of the stuff by mid afternoon. In the days when produce did not come from South America year round, rhubarb was the first fresh produce we would have in the late spring/early summer. Strawberries followed soon after and the two made a great pairing in pies and jams.
However, rhubarb tends to be a Northern thing—it is tart and requires a lot of sugar.
I have several bags of neatly cut rhubarb in my freezer and decided to make a crisp—also seems to be a Northern thing–for the local Orchid Society June Ice Cream Social. I expected to bring most of it home—-but I was surprised and pleased to have almost three fourths eaten by the members and a request to take the remainder home with them.
We joined the Orchid Society several years ago, having bought an orchid for my husband’s birthday at our church fall bazaar. The folks in the group were friendly—and so knowledgeable–we enjoyed our time with them. The pandemic has been hard on all social groups—and so it was especially gratifying to be once more among a group of friends.
I wandered through the conservatory and the potting shed—both very hot–even for me. There were a few orchids in bloom—and I took a few photos—-of the orchids–not the ice cream or the crisp’s empty dish.
In February this part of Texas endured what seemed like a century of cold weather and limited power. My laptop has a battery and I was able to write some–but never posted it to my blog. As it is now time to ‘spring clean’ I thought I would clean up some of my drafts; adding to them in some cases.
I wandered around our yard this morning and took a few photos. It is once again the time of the pink snowfall; the azalea blossoms of pink and white falling to the ground and resembling small drifts of snow. It is later this year than previous years–probably because of the interlude of cold, stopping everything in its tracks.
And here is one of those valiant pansies–we have purple and yellow–so cheery.
How can anyone not smile and be joyful when you see these pansies?
And then there is the amaryllis—we have two bulbs–both in full bloom with another flower stalk on one.
And now—here is what I wrote in late February. It is hard to believe we are wondering if we should turn on the AC; but we are all hunting up replacements for all our frozen shrubbery and citrus. We have not pulled up our satsuma or Meyer’s lemon–still hoping but fairly certain they did not survive.
The sun is out today and the temperature outside is pleasant enough for folks to resume their daily walks. The chicken has been returned to her chicken coop although I must say she was not a particularly tidy house guest. Toby and Dora were curious about the closed downstairs bathroom door–as that was their favorite place to sleep. Although they both have nice thick fur, neither one wanted to stay outside for very long.
Our jonquils are sad wilted green leaves, the satsuma and lemon tree have brown crispy leaves and branches–we will have major pruning occurring soon. The arugula and peas also are sad wilted greenery.
But the pansies hiding securely under a dog-food bag and a hive body survived and are still blooming—a ray of hope for us all.
It has taken me several years to understand the cycle of four season gardening here on the Gulf Coast of Texas. A week or so ago, we had frost. A skim of ice floated on top of the puddles in our driveway–there is a broken watermain underneath that constantly drips—this is the fourth time that main has had a leak; one year I had a bubbling spring in front of my house and a huge variety of songbirds used it as their drinking fountain.
But I digress.
Planting peas and radish and lettuce several weeks ago while my patient husband set up a new watering system, there is always a bit of anxiety waiting for those tiny seeds to sprout.
After delivering a bag full of satsumas–a small handful of kumquats and a lemon–not so many of those this year to our youngest son, we stopped by our garden. With all of our recent rain, we had standing water in many places but I was rewarded with lots of sprouts.
Lettuce sprouts are still so tiny but then their seeds are the size of grains of sand.
The bananas at the side of the shed did not like the freezing temperature; but they always seem to come back. I am hoping we had enough cold weather for the new pear tree to set blossoms this next spring—the apricot tree has been a huge disappointment—bought from a Master Gardener’s sale as a peach tree, we have harvested two apricots despite hand fertilizing and putting a bird net on top.
But we should have a bountiful crop of lettuce in two months and peas shortly after that. Radishes are for husband and he likes both the tops and the globes.
About ten days ago, we spent most of a day putting together a new watering system for my garden—truthfully, I worked on cutting down some weeds and brush while husband put together the system. I planted lettuce and peas after filling the tanks with more dirt.
And now there are tiny seedlings all sprouting. In about six weeks or so we will have fresh lettuce for our table.
And hopefully, the cold snap approaching us will not be too cold—although they are protected to some extent by the tanks. Sunny days means the metal of the tanks heats up.
It is always exciting to see those sprouts appear–a tiny miracle.
The first time I tasted garlic was in garlic bread at a youth church spaghetti supper while I was in high school. Since then, garlic has been one of my favorite seasonings. I had never attempted to grow it though, buying the fresh bulbs at the grocery store. And within the past few years, there have been jars of peeled garlic available—so much easier than peeling off that papery covering and mincing the clover.
Fortunately, my husband has been successful in growing elephant garlic–in Wisconsin and here in Texas. Much to the delight and amusement of the neighbors in Wisconsin, he would dry braided strands of arlic in the cab of his truck—looking like he was preparing for an onslaught of vampires.
And then there are the blooms. I had seen onions go to flower creating a pod at the top; and I guessed garlic would do the same.
And if you have never seen a garlic blossom—here is one.
it took two or more months for the flower to form and then bloom–an item of interest for the mail carrier and the UPS driver.
As someone who grew up in the northern climes of Wisconsin with long winters enhanced in January by the arrival of the seed catalogs, it has taken me more than a few years to become accustomed to a place where things grown year-round—-and lawn-mowing as well.
The first time i planted peas….in the middle of May, I was informed that everyone else was pulling up their plants as Gulf coast weather was entirely too hot for them to continue producing—and there were no tomato sets in the gardening stores.
But I have learned.
Today we are picking satsumas from the tree in our front yard and sharing the with others. The lemon tree did not do so well this year but I still have plenty of frozen ones for lemonaid and pickled ones for flavoring chicken and fish. And then we set up a new watering system for the late winter/early spring garden.
Radishes and three kinds of lettuce and some peas have been seeded; the tomato that somehow survived two hurricanes and the hot summer weather has a few green tomatoes on it—but I pulled up the okra as it is now far too cool for it to continue podding. Okra flowers are so pretty with their deep purple throats and creamy outer petals—and now with an abundance of okra, we have experimented in using it in unusual ways–it has proven to be a great addition to pizza—and no, it is not slimey.
Broccoli has persisted through the summer and re-seeded itself—it is one of the bees favorite flowers as the pollen is high in protein–needed for all those baby bees I expect to have in the early spring.
Now comes the hard part, waiting until I see those little sprouts appearing—but while I wait I can have a satsuma.
I always enjoy seeing goldenrod in bloom. That yellow is so cheery and is a harbinger of fall, cooler temperatures, and the time when I no longer need to think about preparing for an incoming hurricane/tropical storm.
My preparations for those aren’t extravagant as I stock up on bottled water, canned goods, and ground coffee in May at the beginning of the season. You will not find me joining the crowds with last minute shopping. When I worked at one of the local chemical plants, I discovered they bought their supplies in May and donated anything not used around Christmas time. Some of my neighbors filled their bathtubs—for flushing purposes—I went with the bucket from the pond with the tadpoles.
I do see Hurricane Eta approaching Nicaragua—and while thankful that is many miles away from me, that country is poorly equipped to deal with a hurricane and the pandemic.
On the other hand, I could be shoveling snow, dealing with furnaces that don’t light, icy roads, and needing to bundle up like the MIchelin man/Pilsbury dough-boy. and hiding in the basement during bad windstorms/tornado season.
It has taken me several years to adapt to the idea of a very long growing season here on the Gulf Coast. Knowing that oranges appeared around Christmas time is not the same as thinking about a fruit harvest starting at that time. We have a Meyers Lemon, satsuma, and kumquat. We did plant some other citrus but the desired fruit part did not survive and we have a root stock of something fairly odd—with twisted branches.
These trees, unlike the song, are not particularly attractive trees. Fortunately ours are still less than about five feet tall making for easy picking of the fruits. Last winter we were so spoiled–want a quick snack? Just run out to the satsuma and pick one—fresh, they are so wonderfully sweet.
It is almost time for the lemons to ripen. Our first harvest was about a dozen, the next year three dozen and following years enough lemons to give to friends and neighbors and make marmalade and pickled lemons and frozen lemons for lemonade this summer.
Blogging is a natural progression for someone who enjoys the written word and beautiful imagery. My photographs are hosted at sylviaweir.smugmug.com. I am slowly transitioning all my photographs to this site and will hopefully edit them to a manageable number. In the meantime, I have organized my blog photos by year and so you may wish to merely sample the blog photos
Feel free to contact me for any questions. My website here has not been fully populated but as I work on my smugmug site, I will update these pages.
My work begins with a word, a thought, an idea, or a bit of a poem. I search through my library of images mostly on Smugmug or sometimes I go out and photograph new images. A pieced quilt pattern is sometimes chosen, sometimes I use a piece of fabric I have altered in the past. The imagery is added on using hand applique and then thread is used to add details.
Each piece is meant to draw the viewer inward providing them with ample opportunities to add their own story to the piece. If the piece evokes the emotion or thought I wished conveyed, then I consider the piece successful.
Sometimes I play 'what if' with fabric and paint and imagery. These might be considered equivalent to scale work in music--something I always enjoyed.