It’s raining again this morning, and I can delight in this, armed as I am with a strong cup of coffee. My hubbie delivers my coffee to me every morning. Aren’t I so lucky?
Speaking of hubbie, we’ve been married nine years since last week. In that time we:
*started our own businesses (2)
*had two babies, sixteen months apart (for a total of five)
*homeschooled at various intervals, for a total of about four years
*bought a house that used to be a barn (and still bore a strong resemblance to such a structure in terms of draftiness & wobbliness)that came also with a large shop for our business(es)
*built my studio
*started raising chickens
*sold one business for a nice sum
*renovated house and added on a
*tore down shop before it fell down on us
*became solar-powered and solar-water-heated
*bought the house next door
*started another business
*started raising goats
*built a tiny pentangle house for our eldest daughter
*renovated our house some more
Also in that time, I’ve built a large garden, which is where I spent most of my time yesterday. I planted a few of the plants I purchased at the Herb Fest: false indigo, fire pink, and vervain. Then I weeded out lots of grass, and made some beds bigger so I could transplant volunteer calendula and borage into spaces where they could actually grow.
My Lucille Ball Alliums are blooming. They look kinda like lollipops, with their tall stalk and big round cluster of purple flowers at the top.
The wood poppy, or American Celandine, is festooned in yellow, four-petaled flowers.
The Creeping Bellworts are dangling their pale lemon jewels, and the Blue Comfrey is tossing its tiny blue bells in the rain.
There’s even a plant blooming in my garden t
hat I’ve no idea what it is! A friend gave it to me two years ago, and it’s now taken off. And it’s gorgeous–brilliant pinwheels of tiny violet flowers. The ever so knowledgeable
My motherwort grew to a massive clump that was covered in greenery earlier in the Spring. I’m guessing that a frost killed it, though, for it’s now rotten and brown. But in true mother fashion, the ground is covered in tiny motherwort babies. I’ll be transplanting those to various spots both in and out of the garden. The skullcap did a similar number, except that none of it died. It just spread about like mint, which is no surprise since it’s in the mint family. I’ll need to transplant some of those, too, lest I’m overrun with skullcap. Considering that it’s a marvelous nervine tonic (supporting the nervous system), maybe it’s not so bad to have so much!
I’ve sown in trays passionflower, calendula (’cause you can never have enough of this generous herb), bloodflower (tropical milkweed that monarchs ADORE), and from my grandmother’s garden: hummingbird vine, hibiscus, and hollyhocks. I’ve also got a tray of johnny-jump-ups waiting to cheer my garden, plus all the plants I got at the Herb Fest that I haven’t planted yet: astragalus, lavender, hardy rosemary, heliotrope, tobacco, boneset, goji berries, lavender poppies, more passionflower, and heirloom tomatoes. I’m probably forgetting something.
How quickly the green returns, and with it the expectation and delight of the garden! I’m always blown away by the abundance of the Earth, how, with attention and awareness, one can gather seeds and grow more and more, how lemon balm and motherwort, mint and bee balm spread, and how the great root plants like elecampane, valerian, butterfly weed and echinacea expand each year. Abundance is the natural state of the Earth, and it’s the kind of abundance that requires your hands and your heart. The best kind.
p.s. the dogwoods are blooming, too