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Patricia Jones | profile | all galleries >> An Ordinary Day | tree view | thumbnails | slideshow |
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You might think that Felix finds Corina’s cheerfulness annoying, based on the pained look on his face. In fact, he is almost always the agreeable, joyful one of the pair, mollifying her every demand, lavishing affection on her, explaining away her peevishness. In return, she will tolerate just about anything if she can interact with—or at least see—her beloved brother. He makes a great role model.
Acalypha hispida (ah-cuh-LIFE-uh HISS-pih-duh) is also called foxtail plant or red-hot cat tail, but it’s most like fat and puffy pipe cleaners or chenille stems. I must have a miniature version in one of my patio pots, because the descriptions I’ve read and most of the pictures online show a 4-6 foot tall bush with longer chenille parts hanging gracefully in bunches. This one is cute, showy, and carefree; after a while, the fuzzy tails start to get ratty and brown and have to be clipped off. Otherwise, it’s pure fun.
At one point, Veronica noted that Felix was fixated on some traditionally boy pastimes in spite of her many choices of gender-neutral toys. With that in mind, we bought some special toys to keep here, including a beautiful tree house with a family and gnome-like forest furniture and an elaborate Playmobil zoo set including every possible animal. At about the same time, Ralph happened upon a Hess trailer and space shuttle at a garage sale. Felix likes all the toys, but he returns again and again to the favored space shuttle with its many lights and movable parts, including a satellite that emerges from the back of the shuttle at the push of a button. We don’t give up, though, and already have a stable and horses ready to be assembled when Corina is a little older. I just have to remind Ralph to resist any garage sale dolls that might sabotage the effort!
Our Labor Day family gathering was fun on many levels, but one of its purposes was to introduce Christy’s future husband Matt to her brother’s family. One thing she has learned in the last few weeks is that when you announce your engagement you better have a ready answer to at least two questions: Have you picked out a ring? and When is the wedding? Although the second is a subject of lively conversation, along with the nature and location of the wedding celebration(s), many window shopping expeditions have resulted in a decision about the first. Matt calls it the Space Ring--since Pluto is no longer a planet under the new definition, this ring (with its resemblance to Saturn) probably qualifies as a secondary celestial body, too. In line with their artistic temperaments, their search for the perfect ring led them not to jewelry stores but to the galleries of jewelry artists and craftsmen, and they have selected the ring that suits them entirely: unique, handmade, and just far enough out in its own orbit to suggest eternity.
A creature with such spectacular body markings ought to have a name to match, but the Yellow Garden Spider will have to be satisfied with its simple descriptive moniker. The pattern is so distinctive that published photographs of it are nearly interchangeable, it is common in its widespread range (much of the U.S. and Canada), and it is large and immobile hanging head-down in its web. Why, then, have I never seen one before this? It remained in the same location for at least a week above a neighbor’s window box and has now either moved on or become prey instead of predator. To learn more about Argiope Aurantia click here.
We tend to think of sunflowers as those massive, seed-heavy, lemon-yellow ones (view here) in farm fields. The iconic sunflower image by Vincent Van Gogh (view here) reveals the shapes and colors of real sunflowers in all their glorious imperfection, at least as they grew in his day. Today, these cheerful flowers are hybridized to produce a palette of rich velvety shades and various arrays and density of petals. This image displays the actual colors of some of our sunflowers with names such as Moulin Rouge and Strawberry Blonde (rosy ones), Ebony & Ivory, Jade, and Vanilla Ice (pale to green ones with dark centers), Autumn Beauty (fall foliage shades), and Sunrich, Sunbright, Moonbright, Sunbeam, Starlight, and every other combination of celestial bodies to suggest the yellows.
Today is Felix’s first day of pre-school. Tonight I will ask him about his teacher’s name, what he did, whether or not he liked it, and what he carried in his backpack. What I will really want to know, but will not ask: What did your parents’ faces look like when you waved goodbye? Does your teacher have a joyful, caring demeanor? Did one of your classmates cry the whole time (or, horror of horrors, did you)? Did they let you drag out your mid-morning snack for two hours while you were engrossed in one activity or another? Did you experience Thomas the Tank Engine withdrawal? Do they actually let you play in your school? Did Coco survive without you for half a day? Are you anxious to go back?
Scabiosa is an airy, graceful annual that produces beautiful cut flowers in the pink and purple family. Black Knight, pictured here, is a purple-black color with pink pins, although I’d really like to grow what may be an even darker English cultivar, Ace of Spades. The botanical name arises from the fact that the flowers were steeped to produce a “tea” used to bathe people with scabies (infestation with mites). It is widespread in Northern Europe and was brought to America by early settlers who carried it further westward (when people owned one outfit).
There really is a pick-your-own orchard and fruit farm named Green Acres a couple minutes’ drive from my house, and it really is one of my favorite places to be. Farmers pay migrant laborers very low wages to do the same thing I happily pay for the privilege of doing, from the stoop labor of picking strawberries in June to the embarrassingly easy pleasure of plucking perfect apples off miniature trees in September. This week I picked blueberries, blackberries (pictured here in various stages of ripeness), raspberries, white nectarines, and regular nectarines. I could have picked peaches (but why get fuzz in my mouth when nectarines are so wonderful?) or the earliest of our apples, Jersey Macs (of course, I’m holding out for Arlets and Empires). I also photographed the farm pond and a small flock of wild turkeys poking around in the orchard. What abundance and contentment!
The vine Clitoria has a flower that is like an open sweetpea, and in fact it produces a pea-like downy seedpod. When I saw the name and the photo in a seed catalog, I knew I had to try it. Georgia O'Keeffe would have liked to paint it! Even when you consider the disappointing facts that a.) the seeds need special treatment (soaking before sowing), b.) most of the seeds didn’t germinate, c.) the remaining ones dwindled to exactly one pathetic plant for transplanting into a large patio pot, and d.) the flowers are white rather than the startling blue pictured in the catalog, you still have to admit that it’s a great match of name and appearance. For an amusing historical account of scientists and their wayward methods of naming plants, including this one, go here.
Many of the varieties of Celosia, Cristata type, have an attractively convoluted flower head which is also sometimes compared to coral, cauliflower, or cockscombs. The head, called an inflorescence, is really many tightly packed tiny flowers. A cut stem and flowerhead will retain its shape, but not its vibrant color, in the dried state. This variety, Cramer’s Lemon-Lime, fits in with the current quest in the horticulture world to develop green(ish) flowers for arrangements, but there are other delicate shades as well. It’s easy to start from seed indoors and then transplant into the garden.
[This is the first in a series of flowers or plants I’ve been trying out, and they range from amazing to amusing with a few disappointments along the way.] Looking for all the world like a collection of miniature glowing cigars with rims of ashes at the ends, Cuphea Ignea is a cinch to grow from seed and makes a pleasing two-foot wide mound in a low planter. In New York this Mexican native shrub is grown as an annual. Either the flowers’ tubular shape or their color is the attraction for hummingbirds, and I have watched them hover for several minutes, sampling from each of the hundreds of inch-long blossoms before moving on.
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