Announcing Our First Egg

We are thrilled to announce the historic arrival of the first egg to be laid at Meadowsweet Cottage!

At 6 o'clock this morning, one of the Blonde Bombshells proudly declared she had a surprise for us. (No rooster was ever louder than our hen laying her first egg!)

The nest box was empty so I thought I was mistaken about hearing an egg-laying bawk.  As I refilled the chicken feeder, I happened to glance up and realized the silly girl laid her egg on top of the coop!   Which of our four hens?  We suspect Norma Jean because her comb and wattle are largest and reddest.  Not because she's my favorite, not at all.

The egg is a lovely deep brown, very petite in size compared to our large store-bought eggs.

Do we scramble our petite beauty and divide it three ways for breakfast tomorrow?  Or do we wait for two more eggs to be delivered?

Proud chicken mama,


Joining My Romantic Home for my best show-and-tell ever!

Gratitude

Yesterday I spent an excruciatingly long day emptying a storage locker for my cousin...a locker that had a few treasures like family photos and heirloom furniture as well as seven giant black plastic bags of trash...a locker that smelled like mouse droppings...a locker that sucked in the summer heat while spewing dust on every bodily pore I possess..a locker that is now empty...

Last night I found myself thoroughly grateful for a patient and very strong husband, a cool shower, a fresh nightie and clean damp hair.  Simple pleasures.

I'm a rejuvenated

Tiger and Water

Abiding by the thought that Mother Nature doesn't make mistakes with her color palette, I'm happy to make an exception to my mostly pastel flower garden.

This is my wild Tiger Lily. Yes, she's ORANGE. And she's in my garden. Me, the gardener who get annoyed when gold flowers are marked as yellow not orange. This orange lily has a sentimental hold on me though.

Every good flower has a story behind it and this is hers: My dad collected the originals of these tiger lilies in the mountains of Tehama county. One of my early memories is of these six-foot giants blooming in my parents' garden in the East Bay. My folks transplanted them to their next home where they awed passers-by in our front yard further inland for forty-six years. The Queen Mother brought some descendents with her when she moved to the Truckee Meadows where they now greet visitors at her front door. Mine are scattered in random places around our cottage and my sister has an amazing display in her backyard in Oregon.

My dad used to say they bloomed for the Fourth of July--true in California, but more like the Fourth plus a week here in Nevada. Usually anyway. This year they bloomed two weeks later than usual, which says something about our super-late frosts and recalcitrant spring.

As a kid, we loved to pick of these little bulblets which grow along the stem.  We also loved to pop fuchsia blossoms before they opened. (There are some things that are just irresistible to kids.)  At least we didn't blow dandelions puffs anywhere near the Queen Mother's garden.

Nowadays I grab these bulblets (they're extremely large this year), pop them into a ziploc until they chit, then find a place to plant them be it in a pot or in the ground where they flourish and get bigger every year.

Back to the pastels--Lilypad Pond hosted a record-breaking four waterlilies in bloom yesterday. I know it's not a lot, but Lilypad is a very petite pond. 

I think they look gorgeous after our thunderstorm.

This yellow gal is the shyest bloomer--those striped pads in the upper right corner belong to her.

Even a grey day and a little Picasa magic can't bring out her true yellowness, but she is colorful. You'll just have to take my word for it.

And then there are the tall phlox.

 

Do you see any pink flowers? 

Any merest hint of a tiny bud?

 

Me neither.  I saw lots of pink and white phlox blooming on our morning walk so I know it's time. Time for some tough love, that is.

Dear Phlox,

   This is your last chance.  Bloom, or else.  You've been warned.

Sincerely,



Garden lovers need to swing by Jami's for beautiful flowers and bounteous veggies and tales of evil trespassers at the

Flat Earth Society

I feel like I fell off the earth. Only tumbling off a spherical celestial body complete with gravity is not easy, so I joined the Flat Earth Society because it's much easier to just walk off the edge into blog oblivion rather than chartering a rocket.

I like--no, actually I love--blogging and I've never contemplated ceasing. But when I caught myself plotting a post about my suitcases (tapestry, black leather, 70's yellow paisley, periwinkle canvas) and my cosmetic cases (one's turquoise flowers and the other is Pendleton wool plaid, and I take them both with me when I travel) I knew something had to change. I mean, really, a post about my split personality in suitcases? Pathetic.

And I found myself "cheating" by planning posts around blog parties on days when I'd rather write about something that inspired me or made me cry or tickled my funny bone. And I didn't want to overload you lovely readers and followers with two posts in a day, so I chose the no-sweat option. It's such an easy-peasy slippery slope into blogger hell, isn't it?  Now a post about blogger hell...THAT would be interesting. Not that I am, but it's got my brain buzzing with ideas...

And during my unscheduled break (which some of you kind souls attributed to my achieving wondrous summery feats of craftiness and botany), I let slip some weekly traditions that I truly enjoy.  I think I've worked off my funk and eliminated some kinks and gotten in touch with me, the real me, the slightly anal-retentive, irreverent, glass-half-full, silly me.  I'm back.

I'm back on a day of thundershowers and four waterlilies gracing Lilypad Pond .  (Look! Two pink, a yellow and a white!  All at one time!)   

'Cause it's the ordinary magic each day brings that thrills me and sets my heart singing.  Even though the thunder isn't exactly thrilling a certain sensitive golden retriever.

Off to check the Bombshells to see if the expression "madder than a wet hen" has any truth in it.

My First Picasa Mosaic

A little knowledge is much more fun than ignorance. Prettier too.

I finally Googled "making mosaics with Picasa" after drooling over yet another wonderful blogger mosaic.  Link Number Three were these instructions which were so easy to follow. 

Can I just say that TechBliss Online is truly well named?  And that I'll be visiting them again this evening to try some more tips? 

I can't wait to fine tune my photos next time and then mosaic them.  (Someone was in too much of a try-out-her-new-toy hurry to do a proper job the first time.)  I'm aware that I get drunk on enthusiasm, novelty and learning new things and my maturity level crashes.  Maybe I need a Designated Internet Driver?

My trusty crystal ball has begun showing me glimpses of puppy mosaics and pond mosaics and chick mosaics and, yes, I think I even see a family photo mosaic somewhere in my future.  Oh and it's also showing me hungry menfolk waiting for me to cook dinner.


Giddily,

My Guideposts --Week27

Remember always that you not only have the right to be an individual, you have an obligation to be one.

~Eleanor Roosevelt

Celebrate quirkiness!


Join Tracey's quote party here

Hollyhock Lottery

Welcome to my part of the Garden Party!


You sow zinnia seeds and you know exactly what you'll get. Ditto for sweet peas and cosmos and coreopsis. But hollyhocks from a neighbor? Unpredictable at best.

I planted the seeds and watched them grow for two years, hoping for a pleasant surprise. (Keeping my fingers crossed that one would be a clone of my long-gone favorite pink hollyhock.) Just this week they've started to bloom and I'm finding out what colors they are at long last.

First to bloom: a neon yellow/chartreuse.

 

Interesting color is the wrong place--it clashed with the apricot- and peach-colored roses in the same bed.

Result: a hard-hearted gardener removed it.

 

Then some wonderful colors appeared like a pink touched by orchid--a keeper.

and a berry red

right next to a peach hollyhock

which is an usual combination but really works (for me anyway).

Sadly the one hollyhock that was growing like a refugee from the rainforest turned out to be a color I call Dead Red

A maroon so deep that it's almost black. Those dark colors just don't appeal to me and the rhododendron underneath seems to be happy to breathe freely and gather a little sunshine now that the hollyhock is gone.

So, I'm still hoping for one nice sweet pink to make me smile, but I'm happy that most of the colors so far are playing nicely in the garden.

Colorfully,