How I Got Here
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Attack of the Frozen Javelinas
Yep, you read that right. In the final segment of my “How I Got Here” series, things get shaken up a bit. I had left off talking about the bounty of roots and bulbs I ordered for fall planting in the yard at the old house. As you can probably surmise by my calling it the “old house,” Andrew and I moved. All garden and landscaping plans I previously made were now on the cutting room floor. I held off on planting everything for a few weeks so I could bury them at the new house. A New Chapter On the day we received keys to our house, our To-Do…
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mea culpa!! – la vie en rose
Well guys, it was inevitable, but I didn’t expect it to occur so soon – my first correction! My dad read my first post and has informed me that the measuring device used in the below photo is not a yardstick, which is what I called it. No, that measuring device is a level that happens to be four feet long. Never one to undersell my father’s accomplishments in the garden, I must inform you all that the stem is 33% longer than I previously stated. I also have learned a special detail that my maternal grandmother, Annette, was the one who gifted my parents their original Eiffel Tower rose…
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My Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens William Carlos Williams Here, I must begin with a confession. I did not actually plant the dahlias that we grew at our first home in Austin. Andrew and I moved into this home together in the summer of 2019. It was a cute house with basic landscaping, mostly tiny boxwoods, and I felt that left a lot to be desired. Piquing My Interest My husband likes to joke about my online shopping habits, how I’ll order something and forget about it by the time it arrives. The phenomenon seems to also occur at Costco……
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La Vie en Rose
Imagine a backyard of beige concrete, some 1000 square feet, bordered by bone-dry clay soil. A productive Meyer lemon tree shades the right edge of the yard, and the back is covered by a small Japanese elm, a large, a rounded juniper, and a guava tree with fruit I’ve never tasted because the squirrels always beat me to it. In the stretches of soil between these trees, which more closely resembled decades old Play-Doh than any sort of fertile ground, my dad decided to plant a rose garden. We researched what types of roses we wanted, weighing what qualities we valued most – color, how it opens, stem length, and…
