The end of May garden

I have forgotten how beautiful the garden gets at the end of May...

And I had forgotten how bad things looked around here two springs ago when we moved back, reclaimed our home and this old garden was redeemed...

Like bad... things looked really bad back then... but nature is so forgiven and if you give it just the proper amount of care, and love, it would soon recover... and give you back so much more!

I can't even believe this is the same place...

Everything look amazingly beautiful this year, and I have noticed that it took two full years for the garden to fully recovered from being unloved. Pruning, dividing, cleaning, taking out old things and planting new ones, thinning out and replanting, moving flowers and bulbs from one space to another, there's so much I had done here and continue doing, but nature is always so rewarding, you give and she'd give ten-thousand folds back, and I look around and marvel, and marvel one time over again and again...

..can you believe this is the same spot two years ago?

as this...  exactly the same!

and this here...

the exact place as this...

I cannot tell you how happy my garden makes me feel and comparing pictures of how it looked two years ago, with how it looks today, it simply makes my heart overflow with joy.  It is beyond my wildest dream, to see it this beautiful again!

I look at pictures of what this corner used to looked like when we moved back...

and remember me pulling weeds and old bulbs, and making my little pond...

and I have to pinch myself to believe this is the exact same space now...

same space... before

and now...

mom's memorial garden was just this...

and this is what it looks now...

the same exact spot... 

Garden Phlox, lupines, Shasta daisy, Black-eyed Susan, hostas, an assortment of irises, tulips, sedum, periwinkle, and ferns are growing there now... and I keep adding more.  Every time I work this small space, I think of mom. It is her space, the little garden of the heart I dedicated to her...  Sometimes I cry when I work in here, but always have to smile, too.  I will always remember her on that long ago May, when she and dad were here visiting, and between her and I we both carried all those big rocks we collected on a trip to the mountains and brought them here, where we started this little garden together.  She making me laugh, I, telling her where to lay the rocks.  Oh how I loved her.  I so miss her.  She will always live in my heart forevermore...

I have a lot more to show you and talk about... but I'll leave you here for now.  Here in the garden life goes by so fast and so beautifully... I'm complete here.

The gypsies...

In a world fragmented by a menace of a mean virus where, being in close proximity to others is not the wisest thing to do any more, going up to where fresh snow still covers mountain peaks, and it is just you and those mountains up there; you and Nature and the cold-water rivers which run through them, it is just the natural thing to do for the old gypsy couple.

So, we did.  We loaded our gypsy caravan and drove ourselves up to the heart of Nature.

It rained all the way up to the mountains; dirt roads became exactly just that—mud!  And thus, our truck and gypsy caravan got a new shade of murky dark brown.

We set up camp—or mainly the Fisherman did, because I felt lazy and didn’t feel like doing anything.  Later, when he was done assembling things up, we got onto our bikes and drove around the camp.  We drove down to where the hot springs pool and office is.  We checked ourselves in and got our usual ice-cream sandwich.  The pool had been emptied out, and it had just gotten a fresh new coat of cobalt paint.  So, it was emptied of people as well and the park, too, was almost emptied.  Which it made me really happy, because when you go to Nature, that’s how it should be—quiet and lovely and uncrowded, just like it should be.  I love the solitude and privacy of natural places and camping where you can’t move without bumping into a motorcycle or a four-wheeler or a racer or a dog or two, is not my thing.    

The Fisherman had worked on prepping our menu the day before, and everything was deliciously ready to be placed on the coals and be cooked... salmon with chimichurri sauce (made by the Fisherman), a whole onion with bouillon cubes and cabbage stakes.

We sleep like silent trees... waiting for morning to break.  Breakfast of scrambled eggs, a medley of berries, dried fruits and nuts and toast with chimichurri yum!  41 degrees by mid-morning.  We read, we wrote and then went for a walk, passed on by the river to check for fish to fish and came back to read and write some more.

 

For lunch we made rice, black beans and veggie meat.  In the afternoon we went to fish at another part of the river outside the camp.  It is a beautiful open space, by even there I encountered a few motorcycles and few dogs without their leach that came by to sniff me and realizing I didn’t like them run away.

The Fisherman disappeared through tall grassed along the river bank searching for the right spot to fish, while I remained behind, in an open area by the river, where I sat down and read, took pictures and sang hymns.  It was such a beautiful place, with the river serenating me with its usual hastiness and calmness at the same time.  I wondered if perhaps I was going to encounter a bear which I hope I did not.  In any case, we carried our new walky-talky’s and were all the time communicating back and forth...

After the Fisherman was done fishing nothing, we drove back to our camp.  The sun had come out and it felt warm and comfortable.  We made us an oatmeal drink and sad down to read some more.  Tonight, I will be chicken taquitos for dinner.  

I want to sit outside and look for Sirius shining down on us from its place in the firmament, but it has been cloudy and rainy for the last few days and most probably it won’t happen tonight. 

See you soon my friends!  Be safe, be happy, be blessed!

Life

April 28—today, I pruned the viburnum shrub at the entrance of the garden. And how I love this beautiful shrub... its white bride-like rosettes are made of glorious little flowers so intricately close-fitting and in such a magical way, that the eye is always teased into believing they are a single flower, when in reality it is much to the contrary.

It was painful pruning it, I couldn’t leave those beautiful branches heavy with flower go to waste, so I made a bouquet with them, and brought them in. They won’t last for long, but in the mean time they will continue gifting me with the joy of seeing them for a little longer.

I’ve been bothered by a most strange feeling lately, it is a fainty feeling right at the mouth of my stomach.  It is not hunger, or pain and I’m starting to believe that it may has something to do with diabetes?  My energy levels are very low too, I force myself to go out for a long walk and I work in the garden practically all day long, but it isn’t like it used to be, and this fainty feeling it is most upsetting.

A hawk just flew by in front of me this very moment... down to eye level.  I am writing in the garden, writing atop the hours of my days... they seem to fly by too, for my hours go by too fast, days evaporate like water amidst my fingers.  How precious life is, and how I adore studying it under the breezes in my back porch.

I’ve notice that the morning glory seeds I scattered last year are coming back and I have decided to let some of them be this time, and see what happens; particularly the ones that are growing at the feet of one of the grapevines.  Earlier this spring, the Fisherman and I tackled the job of pruning the grapevines... and we did it quite aggressively, so it will be interesting to see the morning glories climb on the naked feet of the grapevines around our back porch.