The gypsies

Life is better when you imagine it dream it or daydream it just the way you want it be... and thus… the gypsy girl and her beau, the Fisherman, went up-up, higher up than ever before this time, searching for new places to just be… their gypsy caravan went along winding perilous roads, and on trails along the edge of the ravine of a wild river, until it vanished into the blue… or into the green, because that’s just how that part of the world where the gypsy caravan finally rested, looked like… green green green, everything was exuberantly green!  

Except for the clear dark blue lake down below the gypsy camp!

They set out camp among all the shrubbery and tall pines and were immediately swallowed up by Nature..

They felt so small and insignificant under the spell of that forest of Douglas fir and lodgepole pine, and so fortunate to be alive, and part of this amazing beautiful world!

Cold, pristine waters… tripping through sagebrush and talus fields on wobbly knees and ankles, spooked witless by grouse bursting out of the brush beneath their feet they went... until... the calmness and picture-perfect lake… and trouts!  Lots of trouts to fish!

At an elevation of 6,900 feet.

Thin air, low temperatures, exuberant green, rosy, wind bitten faces.

The gypsy girl and her Fisherman lover stayed up high for a little too long collecting rocks and fishing, and then made their way back down the steep face of the mountain in the stumbling dusky hours…  a nice fire for warmth, awesome food and delicious company...

A humble table for two...

A meal for two...

And inside the gypsy caravan dusky light sweet aroma... cozy nights.

Breakfast are the best when in the gypsy caravan!

The girly gypsy quarters are always my favorite... colorful, glamorous, bizarre, filled with all sorts of pretty things to enhance your imagination, and quite unlike that of the Fisherman, on the opposite side of the caravan!

I liked how very messy she let it be this time!

And how the last sun of the day, always-always make fancy designs on the roof just before nightfall!

They had a beautiful time… following the Son and His light throughout the day; and the moon to give them light to dance and play, to sing their songs of love and dance around the fire...  Oh, I hope you have enjoyed my little story!  Don’t be shy!  Come along and join our gypsy caravan!  We are heading for another mountain, for another land.  And would you like to come for a ride? We'll go so high. And if you've got the faith, we'll climb up to the sky… our wagon wheels keep rollin' on.  Our caravan keeps movin' on.  Through streams and over mountains, trough valleys and over the hills, through meadows and across the plains, while our wagon wheels keep rollin' on...

Love you all!

Succulents and the bohemians

Last month, my friend Christina surprised me with a terracotta pot of delightful little plants from her very own garden... all in a variety of fun colors, textures, and shapes! Enough to say I was immediately smitten!  I’m referring to succulents.

I decorated my first terracotta pot of succulents using some acrylic paint.  Not a perfect job, but I’m so loving it!

When before I didn’t even know they existed (or care for them), now I seem to see succulents everywhere in stores and nurseries.  Lowes, particularly, has quite the collection of beautiful planters filled with them… they are all beautiful, all have different designs and textures in stems and leaves, and they look awesome in whatever pot you chose to put them in.

Last week, I decided to make myself a few more pots of succulents. I spent a few hours at Lowes deciding on which arrangement I wanted to bring home, but they are cheaper if you buy the pots separately and plant them yourself... so that's what I did!

I’m sure I will be making more succulent pots in the coming months; particularly during our plant-less winter months. And I already know exactly where they should go, once they'll be brought in for winter... on my little vintage bookcase under the window in my gypsy room!

This cute bookcase has quite the story!  I first discovered it at one of our local thrift stores many months ago.  I could tell it was the creation of some artistic soul out there—unique, and kind of vintage looking. I felt in love with it immediately, but my minimalist soul insisted I didn't need it, and thus, I left it.  But you know how it goes... I went home wishing I had bought it, unfortunately, when I went back looking for it, it was already gone.  What an astounding surprise it was seeing it again some months later at the same store!  Someone must had bought it and then brought it back again I guess, and this time, I didn't even have to think twice before snatching off the tag and claiming it mine.  It was mean to be mine, I'm sure!

So this bookcase will be my plant station under the eastern windows this winter... there, where our precious winter sun warms the house the strongest around 5:00pm... right now, it is holding quite the assortment of things...

I can already foresee my succulents sitting here...

Super cute, don't you think so!

For some strange reason, succulents speak to my bohemian heart like no other plant.  So what better place to put them around the house than in my bohemian room?  

Do you love succulents?

Days of my little life...

The garden has the scent of lemon with a hint of mint these days, and everywhere you'd look you'll see some nice green clumps of textured leaves growing among many other beauties… I’m referring to the “Lemon Balm” garden; a corner in my garden I had named it so for obvious reasons, and because of all the lemon balm growing rampant there—like a scented groundcover of sorts that I don’t really know whether if I should like it or I should not! 

You see, many many moons ago, the Fisherman used to have his very own little herb garden around here... he used to grow all sorts of culinary herbs there, then one day he planted a small lemon balm plant, and went away.  Because for years after that nobody was here to see after the gardens, this little herb grew rampant, spilled over its beds one day, and soon took possession of part of the gardens… now, what was just a little plant is threatening to take all over the entire garden, if let be…

That part of the garden where the lemon balm grows is overcrowded.  Plants are growing too close to each other there, too wild, too disorderly, too happily mingling in this sort of cottagey garden style hodgepodge of flowers, herbs and greens all in one same place, that it's driving me a little insane… too much going on there!  You get the idea. 

  

Sometimes I like it—I like the lemony scented waft brought by breezes in that part of the gardens when I go by, and I love the trace of lemon and mint on my hands when I rub the textured leaves on my skin or pull them out of the ground.  I like it with honey and butter, and I love to include stems in bouquets of summer flowers… but sometimes, I just don’t—I just don’t like them at all.  If you are not paying close attention to details, they will take over the entire garden, whether you let them or not.  They can also look like weeds, and sometimes I’m not sure if I should just go crazy and start pulling them all out or just let them be…

A momma Robin moved in as soon as everything was put back in place after the painters left.   She stole all the moss I had on one of my many flowerpots to make her nest, and made a big mess in the porch. It took me days to get her accustomed to my presence.  Every time I went outside or tried to sit on my favorite spot in the garden it was a frenzy of feathers and frantic wings, but finally, little by little she got habituated to my nearness, and now sits comfortably up in her skyscraper home, nursing baby birds. 

As far as I don’t make any sudden movement she’d be calmed and happy.  I can even sing out loud right under her, and she won’t care.

On that last day at the little white cottage when we were saying our last goodbye to the place we used to love, I did something I'll never regret doing...  I stole a rose bush!  That's right.  While the movers were busy loading up everything we own on this earth in their big gigantic truck, it occurred to me I should steal a souvenir from that dear garden I was leaving behind forever—something that could later served as a reminder of my love, dedication and hard labor.  And thus, on a most strange of an impromptu I dug up one of my Paradise roses, dumped it in an emptied flowerpot and asked the moving crew to put it along everything else in the truck, because that rose was coming home with me…

And I’m so happy I did what I did, although the house; nor the gardens, were mine anymore!  From the soil of that southern garden came this beauty, now planted in this fertile soil of our high desert…  Sorry, “New Owner” of the little white cottage.  I left you another bush of this lovely rose for you to enjoy, but this one had to be mine!  I planted the bush last winter, when I started cleaning up the garden… and now I’m finally collecting the first roses…

A spray of mint from the herb garden! 

(The Fisherman is still the owner of that parts of the garden)

Roses from my pruning the other day!

 

Even in the trash and ready to be discarded, they’re still so beautiful!

Do you love roses?

I know you do!

On my next post I’ll tell you all about my new love for succulents and I will tell you how I managed to make me a little pond in one corner of the garden in remembrance of the one we had at the little white cottage.  We visited a very old cemetery today—the oldest cemetery in continuous use in our state; full of history and interesting true stories of the truest wild-wild West kind, which first came into unsanctioned use as a burial ground soon after the area was settled in 1863.  

After roses, I love history, and I love love to revive old, forgotten stories.  One of the stories in this old cemetery tells of a sixteen-year-old girl, daughter in the family that owned the grandest hotel in our state at one point in time.  She was only sixteen in 1879 when she and her friends went to a dance.  Anna broke her neck after being thrown (or jumping) from a wagon as it ascended a steep summit.  Virtually all the city was in the streets when Anna’s body was brought into town.  The earliest recorded burial is of a little girl who died in 1864.  She was 5 years, 11 months and 5 days old.  Hers is the oldest legible grave marker in the cemetery.  But enough sad stories for now!  I love visiting old cemeteries.  Do you?  See you soon!

Back home!

The world, in these northern parts where I live, has turned green, and exuberant.  If you let your eyes repose above the canopies of trees all the way to where the mountains arise to the heavens below white, fluffy clouds, you’ll understand. That’s the view I am seeing right now from my window on the second floor.  Every color of green and yellow-green covers roofs and tall houses; letting only the peaks of mountains in the distance visible, in their dark-blue tones... like some sleepy mythological gods whose heads are bended down, looking into our homes and into our lives… and it is good to be back home after a few days of intense living in Rome; good to feel the familiar, smell the familiar, sleep where you have always sleep, and eat what you want to eat.  It is good.  All is good. 

Yesterday, I worked all day long in the garden.  A full-time job mowing the lawn and pruning and pulling out weeds.  I also fertilized and sprayed every rose bush with Neem Oil.  The house and gardens are looking wonderful under any and every light… from afar and from a close distance, everything is looking awesome, and the garden is back to glory days. Some of the old roses are still not performing as they should, or as I expect them to, but either way they are roses, and I’m still loving them and are bringing them into the house by the dozens, to embellish vases and urns, and jugs and bottles and any container that fancies my imagination.

  

On one of those claustrophobic days when the painters were here and I was trapped inside a taped down house, I decided to turned one of our guest rooms on the upstairs into a shabby chic retreat.  With all the number of roses the summer garden is bestowing these days, it was almost a sin not to change things around the house... because, well, nothing could be more appropriate, or perfect when you have a garden bursting with roses than to have a Shabby Chic room!  Right?  Somehow, roses and the Shabby Chic style goes hand in hand, don't you think so?

So, I put away some things and brought out some more and then, made myself a little Shabby Chic, girly space!

I’ll show you more later, and maybe I’ll also share with you a little about Italy and what we did when we were there and places we visited. I’m still dreaming with a quaint little ancient village in southern Tuscany, called Pienza on the top of rolling hills, and in the middle of green grassy plains.  It is a small picturesque town with beautiful doors and windows with flowerpots at every turn! For now, I hope you are all doing well.  I hope you missed me, and still remember me!

PS: I put a little music on my blog for you to enjoy (for now), but is it too much?  Does the background music makes it difficult to read?  I know that something like that bothers me sometimes when I'm reading... so let me know and I will stop it!  ;)