Some Garden Scenes

Posting about the flowers to distract myself.

We’ve been home from surgery for a few days, and things are stable, and going well—no serious complications so far—but things are kind of tough. It’s a slow, hard recovery. Each night is a tiny, tiny bit easier, but there are still things that are very tough on both of us. I’m rather jangled and tired, and unfortunately, my long-in-remission rheumatoid arthritis is banging on the walls and breaking things. I have a call in to my rheumatologist for advice.

My free time is currently a bit more restricted again, as I help John manage post-surgery meds, meals, and incision care, but I’m trying to get out into the garden most days. Here are a few photos from the last couple of weeks.

And, as an aside: thanks to all of you who have kept reading and subscribing even though this Substack took a turn for the cancer fight and has spent the last seven months not being very organized in theme or story. Your comments, and especially your joy and delight at Whitsun, have been a wonderful encouragement.

“Oh, my GOSH, Debbie, did you SEE those birds? What are they DOING?” Bad Art Cherub came to my house from a salvage store several years ago. I figured he’d crumble in the rain and freezing weather, but he’s proving remarkably stout.

This was a little terracotta Dutch-girl angel, but by the time I snapped her up at some garage sale, she’d lost her arms and one wing. Last year, her other wing fell off. I still like her. She stands on the other box elder stump, across from Bad Art Cherub.

Every year, I think, “This is the year I need to do something!” about the crabapple, which is in pretty poor health despite the amount of flowers it churns out. So far, I haven’t been able to make myself euthanize it. Maybe I need to pay for a professional arborist’s opinion on it. It is infested with something, plus it loses nearly all its leaves by mid-July due to cedar apple rust. There’s a line of cedar trees just 50 feet away; the cedar apple rust is likely unavoidable, and I am not going to spray for it. The paint color of the structure behind the crabapple is Dutch Boy “Allium Poufs,” which is an excellent paint color name.

I love my hot pick cockatoo. He’ll need repainting soon. Should I keep him hot pink or choose a different color?

Syringa vulgaris (Lilac) “Wonderblue,” which is not really blue. A dwarf-ish shrub, it’s a good fit for my rather small city lot. At six years old, it’s finally outpacing the depredations of nighttime deer snacking.

Unnamed Japanese tree peony in the upper garden. The shrub is slowly getting shaded out by the ever taller nearby cedars, but still puts out the most astonishingly large and fragrant flowers each year, all while leaning precariously farther and farther away from the shade line. I need to move it to a sunnier spot. Photo courtesy of my mom, a dear lady who is not a big fan of cats in general but who gets on wonderfully with our magical Whitsun.

Grocery store carnations, Japanese tree peony from the Upper Garden. Kente cloth on the table from my childhood in West Africa.

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And now for something rather shocking and indelicate…

Whitsun, people told me that cats are very clean animals. What on earth are you doing? “Fresh crinkly cold water, Lady of the House. Isn’t the Water Noises Room for drinking?” But Whitsun, your toilet is in there, too, not just ours!

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