Waiting

Is it Spring yet?

I am getting ready.  Elaine at Rosebank Ramblings wrote this week about sweet peas. Hers were so pretty I was inspired to by some sweet pea seeds today and some zinnias seeds, too, as I browsed the the fruits and veggies in the super market.

Then the cut hydrangea called to me: "Take us home with you."  So I did.

The cut little curly chicks called out too.

 At Big Lots, a favorite bargain spot,  I found new gardening gloves and don't you love the rubber clogs that I found at Jo Ann's?

Spring is just weeks away. Patience, my dears. Patience.

Have a happy weekend.

A Weekend with Mother Nature

She calls herself Mother Nature. And we have to believe her. Today in the car we had a discussion about working at Mac Donald's. I told her that perhaps someday she could work at Mac Donald's, but she said "No. I don't think so." So I asked her what she wanted to do when she grows up. She answers: "I want to spend my life rescuing injured animals." (Pretty much what her mother did as a kid.) I liked that answer. Her mother discovered this child's alter ego when she took the little girls to the pet store and over heard the conversation her eldest daughter was having with the Boa. "Hello, do you like me? Well, of course you do. I am Mother Nature." So here is my weekend with Mother Nature.

When I knew that Mother Nature was spending the weekend, I planned a special surprise, Afternoon Tea at Victoria's Little Tea House in Eaton, CO, just down the road. I told Ellie to make sure to bring a party dress when she came to spend the week-end. So she ask her mamma to make her a special dress, which she did.

Sweet treats after petite little sandwiches and quiche

The tea house has a special little room where the little girls can play dress up

After tea, Mother Nature took grandpa's egg gathering basket outside. I asked her if she was going to collect eggs. She answered, "No, I am looking for treasures." We saw her sitting in the garden and asked her what she was doing: "Watching the bunnies in the pasture."

She found her treasures: sunflowers.

Mother Nature finished her day by making peanut butter and lard seed cakes for the birds.

She had a busy day.

On my way home work Friday, I drove past Bittersweet Park in Greeley. The lake was nearly black with Canada geese and in the middle of the flock was a speck of white. I had seen the same bird last year, but never got back to the park to identify the white bird. It was too large and too white to be a pelican, of which there are many in our area during the warmer months. It's neck looked much too long to be a snow goose that sometimes fly with the Canada geese. We went back to Greeley for dinner, stopping by the pond with the binoculars to see just what the bird was. Indeed, it was what I hoped it was.

On our way to town, we made an unexpected stop. Aren't they magnificent? Bald eagles are not uncommon in this part of the state during the winter. In fact, according to an article in the Ft. Collins newspaper last year, the bald eagles migrate here from Alaska and Canada, many settling and nesting here in Northern Colorado, especially at the Fossil Creek Reservoir Regional Open Space in Ft. Collins. These two eagles were in a tree right by the road near  Seeley's Lake, an exclusive residential neighborhood. This route is my nature drive to work. I have often seen bald eagles in the trees near the ponds, but I never have my camera with me.

And here he is, a beautiful swan, alone, graceful, and peaceful on Bittersweet Lake in the middle of the city.

 Along with a few of his aquatic friends

Oh, back to Martha Stewart. I read her headline wrong, just in case you are wondering. She has a list of 103 things to do get ready for spring, not just 30. I am tired already.  Have a terrific week.

Last week wasn't much fun. I don't get sick very often, thankfully. Every night I'd go to bed saying to myself that I would cancel class in the morning, but upon further consideration I'd get up and go to work.

The first storm of the month hit late in the day with wind and snow. While we only received a couple of inches, cities south of us had amounts ranging from 18 inches in Denver to 44 inches in other areas. As the storm began in the evening, we lost power. Expecting it to be out all night, we began to think about how prepared we were for a lengthy power outage. We aren't very well prepared for more than a couple of hours inconvenience.

We spent a quiet evening, no computers, no television, just the warm glow of candle light and the gas logs.

Next morning the world looked pretty cold.

Snow removal around the Garden Spot means tractor work. 

I took a walk about this morning camera in hand, and while we didn't have fresh snow, frosty crystals clung to everything. I was out a bit before the sun burned through the cloud cover. As soon as the sun began to come through, the frosty crystal began falling to the ground. I used my 70-300 mm. lens for the close shots as well as the distance shots. I have been researching macro lens and cringe when I see the price. Some photographers use their distance lens for some macro shots, as I have with the dried crab apples that still cling to the branch and the sunflower. I am thinking for flowers, however, Pawn Shop. What do you think?

Rabbit tracks. The black corrugated pipe that carries the overflow irrigation water to the lawn serves as hiding place for the cotton tails that live here.

In the super market yesterday I saw the headlines on the current issue of Martha Stewart's Living magazine: "30 Things to Do to Get Ready for Spring." Since I am breaking my magazine habit, I didn't buy the magazine to see what was on her list. I'll make up my own. Where should I start? Cleaning up the garden beds would be a good place to start, but not until the snow melts.

Week 6 of the semester begins. Students are working hard and I am working hard to keep one step ahead of them. Hope you all have a great week. Anyone going to see if they can come up with of 30 To Dos for Spring? Share your list, if you are of a mind. Have a good week.

A Kind Word Never Hurts

My, don't you look lovely today. Need a bit of drink?

Do you talk to your plants? And if you do, do they respond? I find myself talking to my plants. I compliment my African violets each time I water them. “My, don’t you look lovely today,” I might say. Or “Well look at you, you finally decided to bloom. You are just so beautiful.” Sometimes I find myself apologizing to the poor dears: “I am so sorry I haven’t watered you lately. You do look a bit limp. Here. Here’s a nice drink for you.” I have to make serious apologies to my ponytail plant because unless it is located in a place where the cats can’t get to it, it suffers from frequent feline snack attacks. Let’s face it. I am not very good with houseplants. I don’t have the time it takes to nurture them adequately, so I don’t have very many, and I have to keep them out of reach for the cats and dog. Even Prince Charles, a well versed horticulturist, in an interview admitted back in 1986 to talking kindly to his plants because "they respond," so I don’t feel quite so odd. (read the article on the science behind talking to plants

Oh Iris, your color is so perfect, but rain has you looking a
bit limp. Don't worry, a good shower will do wonders
for your complexion.

Now, Coriscomia, you are really something. I am so
glad that I rescued you from that awful garden
center. Now your roots can run wild.

The Science: So do plants really respond to kind voices? The first definitive study done to find out if plants respond to music was done by Dorothy Retallack at Colorado Women’s College in Denver, Colorado. She published her results in her book The Sound of Music and Plants in 1973. Essentially she placed identical plants in three labs under identical conditions: one where music played daily for 3 hours a day and the other extreme where plants listened to music 8 hours a day. In the lab where the plants listened to music for 3 hours a day, they grew strong twice as strong and twice as healthy as the plants in the music free lab.  The plants that were exposed to music 8 hours a day died within 2 weeks. In the 3rd lab, no music played. Ratallack also experimented with the type of music. The plants exposed to rock ‘n roll failed to thrive, while the plants listening to more gentle music thrived, and most interestingly, bent toward to source of the music, much like they tend to face the sun. The rock ‘n roll music was of the late ‘60s was pretty tame, as I remember. (I barely survived the years of Guns and Roses and Def Leopard my teenaged daughters played in the ‘80s; I can’t imagine exposing my African violets to such noise—though I was keeping violets then, too).

Oh, Icky Nicky, we must re-name you because you are
gloriously beautiful. Keep smiling, dear.

Thinking about how plants respond to the world around them begs the question: If they respond to a kind voice and soft music, do they feel pain? Logically thinking, they don’t have a brain or a central nervous system, so they shouldn’t feel pain. 

As gardeners, we really can’t think about plants suffering when we deadhead, or prune, or mow. Nor can we worry about eating our veggies alive or concern ourselves about their feelings as we steam them in the microwave.

None-the-less, a positive attitude and a kind voice in the garden may not necessarily yield better results, but a kind word never hurts and a good positive attitude always lifts our spirits and if our garden beauties bloom a bit brighter, grow fuller, and out do the neighbors’, so much the better.

Tonight here at the Garden Spot we are under a sever winter storm warming. It started snowing about 7:00 p.m. About 8:00 the power went out. I rounded up the holiday candles, we lit the gas fireplace and waited, and waited, and waited. I thought I could work on the blog, but the lap top battery (an old, weak one) died. So hubby and I talked: politics, (yuck, really), the garden, the weather, the blankity-blank power failure. In an hour and half, the lights came on, but our new oven failed to come back to life. Not good. Weather reports say that we can expect 8-12 inches of snow along with winds, which means that I may not have to work tomorrow. We will just have to see how bad the roads are. We welcome the bad weather after a very mild and dry January because we need the moisture so badly. Well, the week-end is nigh. You all have great one. Say something kind.

Flower of the Month

Most of us are aching for Winter to end, longing for Spring show signs of new life. I am getting anxious, like all of the other gardeners in Blog Land to get started in the garden. The weather in Northern Colorado is cold and dry with plenty of wind. As we leave January, the weather people say that January is a dry month and promise us more moisture in the coming weeks, with March supposedly our wettest month. Until then bloggers are keeping themselves entertained and satiated by posting beautiful photography of seasons gone by. I am no different. Wanting a fresh springy look for the Garden Spot, I chose an old favorite, my Colorado Columbine, the states official flower for my banner to welcome visitors to The Garden Spot.

Aquilegia caerules became the official state flower in 1899. In 1925 the state legislature passed more  legislation protecting what they called a rare mountain flower, making it unlawful to dig or pick the columbine in the wild. Likewise it is also unlawful to pick the flower on private property without permission of the owner. The law makes it Colorado citizens’ duty to protect this rare flower. For more information of state flowers, check click here, then write about your state flower.

My grandparents built a cabin where grandma called the foothills west of Denver. They cut the logs for the little cabin on an antiquated sawmill that grandpa had acquired from somewhere. Relatives helped build the little log cabin that became the center of the family gatherings. Located in a quiet, peaceful little valley called Beaver Brook, the cabin became a family refuge where families traveled an hour or so from Denver on weekends to just simply play. Grandma named her little paradise Shangri La. I can still hear the clang of horseshoes echoing through the thin mountain air, along with the whispering pines mixed with joyous laughter. Grandma would take her little brood of grandchildren on walks through the woods, teaching them the names of the wildflowers, telling stories, and instilling in her grandchildren a passion for nature, respect for the wildflowers, and a love of the beauty of life. She taught us to love and respect the beautiful columbine along the path in the shade of aspen trees. So I grow Aquilegia caerules not only because I love it’s graceful beauty and periwinkle color, but because each time I pass it in the garden I am reminded of my grandmother, wonderful memories, and our beautiful Colorado Rocky Mountain wooded forests.

A perennial now commercialized so that both seeds and plants can be purchased at garden centers, the columbine is an easy keeper. Planted in shade underneath aspens here at the Garden Spot, it blooms earlier—about mid-June—than it’s mountain cousins that bloom in around 4^th of July. It readily self seeds, so new plants are easily transplanted or left where they sprout to naturalize a woodland scape. Add some moss rock and other wooded plants and a mountain retreat is just outside your door. In the wild, they grow in large quantities amid the aspen groves, which mean that they are at about 10,000 ft. elevation. 

Aquilegia caerules has been hybridized to a number of varieties and colors, and while I do have other varieties, none are as outstanding as the state flower. Go to the USDA’s web site to learn more about this beautiful Colorado native. What is your state flower? Do you have it growing in your garden?

 Will we get moisture this week? We shall see. Have a good week. 

Mo

Let me introduce you to Mo. Mo stands for No Mo Cats.  He is the third feline pet child, a youngster compared to Country and Jasmine who are both approaching 16. He is feral cat, a wild child, an independent soul. He was found in a junk stuffed old rundown, falling down chicken house on my dad's little place. I had family there trying to sort and clean so that we could sell the place after dad passed on. Dad was a keeper and saver, like many of our elderly who lived through the Great Depression. Dad saved everything because it might be useful someday for something. His little acreage had several buildings filled with stuff--junk--30 years of collecting, storing, stashing, saving. In his later years he had taken to feeding feral cats, so the population grew. Very poor cat management. So the kids were in the old building scrounging when they heard a sound. They dug around finding a tiny, wet mass of fur. Jen (yes, Jen again) brought this little guy to me in tears afraid that he was near death, insisting that we had to do something before it died. Luckily a vet lived next door. She gave the little guy a shot of B-12 and some warm milk, bringing life to the little cat. Jen's husband was wise enough to tell her not to come home with another cat (she already had 2), so I was charged with his care.

Today Mo thrives. He loves to be outside; in fact, he prefers to be outside. Despite all of the humanly love and affection as a baby,  he is a loner, aloof, and distant. While he has all of his house manners, he doesn't much like us. He tolerates us, barely. He is a bully to other cats. They fear him. While Country sleeps with the pet dad and Jasmine has her own little cat bed, Mo gets sent to the garage to sleep; otherwise, he spends the night terrorizing the elder cats. He has no respect.

Looks innocent enough, doesn't he? He was probably, according to the vet, only 4 weeks old, not old enough to be weaned, but I couldn't get him to nurse on a bottle, so he started on cat food early. But he also ate dog food. We had to laugh: a tiny little baby eating dog food while the big dog held back watching the baby eat the dog's food. Probably not the best diet for the little guy, but he was tough. Later he began napping on my clothing if it wasn't hung up. And while he slept, he chewed holes. He ruined some of my favorite clothes. Still, 7 years later he likes to sleep on my clothes. I'd like to think that he does consider me the mom, but he'd never let it be known that he is the least bit attached to anything or anyone. He may have outgrown the need to chew clothing, but I don't trust him. What makes cats eat fabric? Lord knows he has eaten enough polyester, wool, cotton, cotton blends, and nylon to rot his gut.

Perhaps the most endearing quality about this fat cat is his love for the dog. They are best buds. Max is the only creature here at the Garden Spot that Mo relates to. He follows the dog, plays with him, rubs up against him as other cats do their owners' legs. Max is his friend, his only friend by his choice. His pet dad tries to befriend him, tries to get him to accept kindness and affection, which is returned with claw and tooth. As I said, he's not a nice cat.

He is not the cute, cuddly, endearing little fuzz ball that purrs when his ears are scratched; none-the-less, we worry about him when stays out all night, we see to it that he has all of the amenities that the other cats enjoy (including his shots), we try to overlook his bad attitude, we even try to keep the secret that he is after all feral. He will never be the lap cat, he will never be loyal or loving, but he is a survivor and he is part of our pet family.

Tomorrow is Friday. TGIF in triple. I am quite exhausted by the end of the day. Tomorrow is a light day: office hours and tutoring. I'll swim after work, get groceries, and relax over the week-end. Maybe do some garden planning. Still a bit early here in Northern Colorado to get too excited about planting yet, but we can dream and plan. Hope everyone has a good week-end. Give the pets an extra treat and a hug.

Miss Priss

They (whoever "they"are) say those with pets live longer. Well, we here at the Garden Spot will live a very long time. I have introduced you to Stevie, The Wonder Bird, an aging cockatiel and Mr. Country; now meet little Miss Prissy Kitty, Jasmine. She came to live with us shortly after Country who arrived as a graduation gift to our youngest daughter from her boyfriend--the one we didn't much care for. I hinted that the ugly boyfriend went away. Without going into too much gory detail, our young daughter decided to take a road trip to Missouri where the fellow had moved to see what life there would be like. Just let me say that she made a good decision and came home bringing with her a little baby kitten for his sister. Just how Jasmine came into her possession is still clouded in mystery. I didn't really much care, for my young daughter chose her family over a creep.

Not quite a glamor shot; she wasn't in the mood to pose.

Jasmine had a growl like a bob cat for one so tiny. Early on she and Country were buddies, but in her old age (15 years old) she is picky, prissy,  and snobby. She barely tolerates the other 2 cats and has learned that Max the dog is not the enemy; however, she still exercises great caution when he is around, not quite trusting him. We laugh when she sneaks up on him as he sleeps to sniff his tail or his foot.

She is a hoarder. In the old house I had my office/craft room in the basement where she hung out a lot. When I sewed, I would find scraps of material and ribbon that she had drug up stairs. She comes alive at night, sneaking around the house looking for things to do when no one will disturb her. She likes to collect things and she chews paper.

We had a college student living with us in the spare bedroom in the basement. Shey was a classically trained ballerina. One morning she asked if I had seen her ballet slipper. We went through the whole list of did your look in your car, did you look in the trunk, did you look. . . ? She was really quite annoyed and perplexed because ballet slippers are very expensive and she would have to travel to Boulder or Denver to buy a new pair and she was very poor college student. She could have left it anywhere between home and the dance studio.

Several days later as I made by bed, I looked down behind the headboard and there lay a pink ballet slipper. Now if you have ever seen a ballet slipper you know that they have a block of wood in the toe about an inch in size, giving the slipper some weight. The tell-tale tiny hole in the satin ribbon tie pointed directly to Jasmine. I had to keep reminding Shey to shut the door to the basement  to keep the cats from going downstairs, but she didn't and Jasmine when exploring. She is a small kitty, but she managed to drag the slipper from the far side of the basement across the cement floor, up the stairs, through the laundry room, through the kitchen and into the my bedroom where she hid her little treasure under the bed. We had quite a laugh over the missing slipper. While Shey was convinced that her resident ghost who took her other things had hidden her slipper, the mystery of the missing slipper was easily solved.

 I don't know about everyone in blog land across the planet, but here in N. Colorado we need moisture--any kind will do: rain, snow, sleet. Instead we have had warmer temps and winds that dry the gardens out. The head gardener will have to do some watering today. He started sorting seed packets last night and making his list. We are going to start seeds this year, hoping to save some money. We buy the usual sets: broccoli, egg plant, tomatoes, cucumber, and squash. They are becoming very expensive, so we will set up tables in the basement by the large windows, hoping that there is enough natural light to grown healthy plants. He tilled the garden beds last fall, adding chicken do-do that he had cleaned out of the coop, so we will be doing some things differently come spring. Big plans for the garden: a strawberry bed and a new rose bed. What are your garden plans? Seems early to be thinking about gardening, but we can't help it can we?

Have a wonderful week.