somepinkflowers

of what use are grasshoppers and why are there 10,000 feasting in my yard now

Warning! Warning! Warning!

Normally I try to feature lovely pink flowers or sweet white seashells over here on my blog.

Or maybe exotic locations, like Daytona Beach, where I have tromped about...

What you are viewing here today is the damage done by a monster*size grasshopper to one of my favorite amaryllis bulbs last season.

Not exactly a work of art during the best of times, most amaryllis bulbs could pass for an old onion.

After my new bulbs bloom during the Christmas holidays I routinely plant them outside to bloom over and over and over again in my yard the following spring.

Well, that is the plan that has served me well over the years.

The plan that worked until the monster*sized grasshoppers took over a few summers ago.

This spring, in a last ditch rescue operation, I relocated my outside bulbs into indoor pots and placed them behind a locked screen door out of hopper harm's way.

We will see, we will see...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, the baby hoppers are back in full force. Inch~long black ones with high hopes of growing HUGE by eating my dear garden.

Clearly, clearly LOTS of grasshopper hanky*panky was going on end of last summer right out there under my nose.

For days I traveled far and wide to find a cure to rid my yard of the 10,000 babies. Each hour they multiplied and doubled in over-all size. No joke.

"I could sell you this poison," explained Janet at the local hardware store, pointing to the bottle on the right, "but it wouldn't kill them and you don't want it NEAR your herbs. Do you have squirrels and birds in your yard?"

"You might try that mixture," explained Jim at Home Depot, pointing to the can on the left. "Of course, it will cost you $40 plus the $55 sprayer and you might want to wear a HazMat suit. Do small children play in your yard?"

So,
right now I am looking for a group of 8~year~olds who would be eager to gather up the baby hoppers at a penny a piece. Maybe a nickle for the larger ones. I'll even spring for some rocky-road ice*cream at day's end.

Also, I am willing to throw in a jar so each volunteer can carry their collection of insects back home ... into another neighborhood ... far, far from mine.

If you cannot find me for a day or two I am over here busy, busy designing a Baby Grasshopper Collecting Girl Scout Badge which is my Plan B.

We will see, we will see...

 

loving my spring*time

I don't know about where you live but over here, down here, in Florida we are celebrating Spring Time.

Spring Time is when I go sit over here & dream of things to do when I am not over here dreaming.

Spring Time is when I throw open the doors to my wee studio & stir up some Arty*Projects.

Spring Time is when I throw open the doors to my wee studio & enjoy glorious Mother Nature outside, whilst still being inside my own self.

What Spring Time magic is brewing in your life?

collecting little red*wings

Clearly, clearly in another life*time I was a scientist who walked beaches collecting shells for naming.

I was a scientist who harvested seeds for drawing, not for planting.

I carefully pocketed acorns & seed pods & hoped for the best as far as insects were concerned.

I tried to stay away from poison ivy & poison oak & Certain Evil Snakes.

Audubon & Darwin were Great Friends of mine but I only wanted the cast off pieces of old nature.

I did not want the need of killing things to look inside.

And to this day my desires are simple.
I want to look Close Up at the beauty of seeds & shells & left~over nature bits.

I want to share them with you.

tourist tuesday goes back in time

Quickly, quickly take my hand.
We are going back in time!

Think sweet*granny historical thoughts
& mind the stairs as we go up...

Treasures hidden under mother's old bedside table.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

Turn left at the faded tulips which have seen a better day...

White  Cockatoo stands guard over precious water stained wood...

Willetta's purse hangs on the wall with a secret inside.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

Window to the World via London souvenir from 40+ years ago.
Big Ben chimes here on the hour.

My daddy's crossword puzzle dictionaries and reference, pages marked...

What story in the stamp guide?
Faded illustrations from a country no longer on the map.
I bet you want to look inside.

Maybe another day...

A wee,white-throated bird who longed to see his family left his pink cage & skipped town.

He flew plum out the Window to the World, leaving an email address with White  Cockatoo.

Did he fly to London? Italy? Madrid?

We will never know as White  Cockatoo is the strong silent type.

Well, that story is as old as the hills.
Remember, we turned the corner and are back in time.

You can rest a while, beside my grand-father's straw hat which was tailored specifically for him back in the day.

{{ No one can find you back in time. }}

Then click here when completely refreshed & you will be returned safely home. Maybe.  Until next time. ♥

almost always it is really up to me

"You get to choose," she said.

"There will be Pilates in the shade on the terrace behind the pool if you want to come."

If you know me at all, you know I hate to miss a thing.
I want to do it all even when I cannot.

Slowly, slowly I am learning how to choose. To choose wisely for me.

I am listening better to my head and heart and trying to select the Right Thing for me.

Sometimes others have a sweet hold on my hours.
Because they love me, because I love them back.

Mostly it is up to me to weigh things, to find the balance for myself.

I know you are the same way.

Busy weighing this and that ever minute of the day, mostly without even dwelling on it.

This is just what people do.

Seeking your balance. How to spend your time. Your energy.

Living somewhere between what you Want to do and what you Need to do.

Does it ever get any easier to decide, I do wonder?

Somethings are a Given. We have no choice.

Most decisions are not that urgent and mighty. We just float on down the stream left or right.

We seem to all end up in the right place.
Have you noticed?

Almost always it is really up to me.
Almost always it is really up to you.

To buy the boots, to savor the sweet, to say yes.
Yes.
Yes.
Yes.

Taking a breath I said No to the Pilates in the shade on the terrace behind the pool.

Instead, I followed my whispering desire to strike out on my own. 

And that is when I found these sunflowers tucked away in a garden.

Growing there with onions and pomegranate trees  in a tidy plot of properly cultivated salad vegetables and small fruit trees.

Standing strong and tall under the clear Moroccan sky.

Sunflowers heavy~headed and each nodding with one billion seed~babies. They could have been anywhere in the whole wide world practically, these sunflowers.

But here they were.
Standing next to me.

tourist tuesday and inside seattle jenny's garden

Last evening whilst strolling down by the creek to check post~Hurricane Irene water levels, three bats did swoop down at me to give pre~Halloween greetings.

Let me just say this:  I could not have been more pleased!

To come upon small unexpected pleasure is what I live for.

Unexpected pleasure is the stamp upon my Happiness Letter. It is what gets me through my up & down day.

Earlier this summer when it was still Spring~like in Seattle I visited this one.

From the moment I pushed open the tall, wooden gate to Jenny's front yard unexpected pleasure washed over me like calm, warm seawater in a shallow tidal pool.

Front & back yard, I hardly knew where to look first...

I felt most welcomed by my thoughtful hostess and her well~placed fancies.

And while the entire venue was magical in feel...

I was quickly drawn to details of soothing color and surprising form.

Oh happy day!

The flowers were praising the sun.

The little bits were blessing us all.

I wanted to be an elf  to play here all the live~long day.

Let me just say this:  I could not have been more pleased!

As Hurricane Irene sludged her proddy way up the coast last weekend I renewed my happy ways by taking comfort in small unexpected pleasures.

I curled up with a good book and a cup of hot tea as the wind~bands played around my garden.

I take comfort in knowing that after the storm Nature will return to Her blooming, self~cleaning manner.

Tree tops snapped by wind will sprout double the branches. Sodden flower~heads will fall and become home to slimy but useful snails.

Nature will right herself, this is do know.

I hope my friends up the coast did not suffer too greatly.

I hope good fortune smiled down on you in your possible time of need. I hope you had a good book and hot tea and maybe even cake.

No matter what The Crazies say about there being Hurricane Hype----->  high speed winds and encroaching seas are not to be ignored.

As nature rights Herself  I send you 2 wishes this day:  May you come upon small unexpected pleasure. May you have the time to drink it up.

why, i have no idea

What are those yellow thingies crawling on my milkweed plant?

Are they the babies of the bigger orange & black striped bug?

Of what USE are these yellow fat insects?
Were the striped bugs snacking on them like popcorn?
Or maybe these guys were sucking then down?

Why, I have no idea...

One minute everything is hunky-dory in my friendly & quiet milkweed neighborhood.

Red and yellow flowers blooming under the hot Florida sun.

Bright bundles of blossoms shouting out to any & all butterflies to just drop on in and rest a spell.

Then these guys show up in amazing numbers.
I do not even remember inviting them to tea.

I might add, the stripey bugs seem to find my tall milkweed plants an ideal location for intimate~~but seemingly long~lasting~~encounters.

Leaning down close..and closer still... I could almost here their mating call...

At first I thought the wee yellow bugettes were the rapid result of spirited intercourse between the larger bugs.

But NO they are not.

The big striped guys turned out to be milkweed bugs {{ go figure! }} and the fat, roly-poly yellow ones are yellow aphids.

I might add that I gleaned this bit of insect knowledge this morning on the Internet whilst I had my morning tea.

As I skip my way through life, working on one scout badge right after another, I am joyfully amazed at how my education grows rapidly between my front yard garden  and my front porch swing thanks to my sweetly accommodating laptop.

Thank goodness.

Yesterday morning when I left the house at 8am~~ taking my dear mom to her great grand~daughter's first birthday party~~the gas at the corner station was selling for $3.72 a gallon.

Last night when I drove by the Same Station at 10pm~~after the Selana Gomez concert where I happily volunteer~~gas was selling for $3.64.

What happened during the day to cause this drop in gasoline prices?

Why, I have no idea...

I guess some things just happen naturally.

tourist tuesday and pioneer square in seattle

I looooooove surprises of the Good kind.
Don't you?

I think how wonderful it would to be present during a flash mob. Everytime I go to the airport in a Major City I sit and wait for one to happen.

I am that kind of ever~hopeful girl.

For the longest time I have followed this fabric artist religiously as she makes her way from one yarn adventure to another.

Whilst walking around Seattle town recently with these two we came upon a magically~striped site.

My first thought was---> How did my knitting hero from Australia somehow end up in Seattle?

But NO! that was not the case. 

Have you ever been to Seattle?
Well, this was my first time and soon I discovered every corner of that place is frosted in art*work.

Thank goodness.

I do not knit one little bit but I am a Grand Appreciator of yarn.

I collect many fine colors and place them here and there around my space in roundy bowls and accommodating baskets.

My thinking on this is The Process of Osmosis.

If I live with A Thing long enough, how to do it will come to me in my sleep.

So far this idea has not come to fruition as I sleep with an Italian dictionary under my bed and still my command of Italian is limited to ordering simple food.

But,
I digress...

Like a pileated woodpeaker spotted in the woods pecking, we found the Master Knitter at her toil.

So friendly was Suzanne Tidwell and happy to share information, we chatted for a bit and found she had made all these colorful and warming sleeves herself...

...except maybe for this one which seems to me to be crocheted.

But I could be wrong, as I told you earlier, all my personal yarn sits rolled ball~like and patiently waiting in sweet anticipation.

Anyhoo, this is how it is done.
The secret is out.
Knitters do NOT stanad up on ladders knitting the cozies in place round and round and round the tree for days on end.

Here pre~knitted purpley pieces wait--near the ubiquitous seattle coffee--to clad long, tall things in need of covering.

Will someone please hand this one her pink~striped beach towel?

{{ I am not one bit surprized that cutting~edge Seattle allows nude sun bathing in city parks. }}

how to have breakfast with a peacock

Arrange to wake up under the magical lights hanging from this amazing ceiling...

Walk barefoot out this door into the sun*shine of a new Moroccan day...

Step lightly between the yellow flowers blooming underfoot, make your way through the old olive grove...

Stop to pet Baby Lilly {{who might have slept with you the night before}}...

Brush past the never~sleeping, hot~pink bougainvillea standing guard...

Take your time and quietly mosey past the tempting pool where birds dip down for a quick drink...

Duck your head ever~so slightly to avoid the baby olives still growing on gracefully swaying branches...

Ease onto the breakfast terrance where the tile feels pleasant on naked feet...

Wait patiently for charming Chantal to set out her yummy delights {{a stellar chef who trained here and other places}}...

Enjoy your breakfast under the watchful eye of the peacock~gourmand ...

Taste jellies and jams made on~site {{ calories removed by Chantal, I was promised }}...

Enjoy everything, have seconds...

The daily activites are posted near the ever~present mint tea brewing stately...

Early~morning visit with the interesting and lovely Leni {{ + her daughter, Fanny, and others, Arianna , Carole, Erika, Tawney and Natalie }}...

Enjoy it all...
waking up to the stenciled ceiling overhead, strolling through the grove, petting the lovey cat, tasting everything on the table because Maryam has Special Plans for the day and you will not want to miss a thing...

~~*~~*~~*~~*~~***~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~***~~*~~*~~*

on my way to see this...back soon to visit...

i must have been too quiet

dear mother,
these are the photos i was taking in your garden last week...

{{ i saw you peeking out of the kitchen window. }}

they were for you for mother's day!

love always,
your first born

tourist tuesday and finding color along the canal st-martin

 Almost always I have to have my hands up in color.

Most recently my vacationing hands were busy working threads lime and brown.

Thanks to inspiration from here and encouragement from there, I presently have a few, locally-grown, red beets tied up in bits of old white linen just to see what will happen with the passage of time.

So far it is a bit like watching paint dry.

Hope this dyeing with red beets business turns out better than the dyeing experiment with the dark green spinach.

We will see.

Whilst in Paris last May I made my way over to the Canal St-Martin.

Nothing much colorful about a canal except for those who sometimes live in boats on them.

Anyway, I had heard conflicting stories about the Canal  St-Martin and decided to scope it out for myself.

Some people gush how romantic it is to float leisurely down the canal while others say bobbing along the narrow waterway waiting on the locks to open up is a Terrible Waste of Paris Time.

Growing up between the St. Johns River and the Atlantic Ocean I learned way-back-when that for me most any time spent on water is time happily spent.

My memory just now conveniently tossed out one particularly unpleasant trip crossing the rough Irish Sea on a seemingly small and unstable ferryboat. 

I love how lately my mind erases the unfortunate parts that happened year and years ago.

The Romantic in me expected this vision as after all I was In  Paris.

And, if you saw this movie you saw the Canal St-Martin for the teeniest second.

 When I rounded the corner and saw this I decided to skip the ride down the canal and to walk along the banks instead.

 What a clever girl I was that day.

I found my color!

And in my bright yellow suitcase, I brought back some fun just for you.

haiku my heart ~~ spring of last year

how did i forget?
Canon memory stick bound,
waiting for today...

swooning toward the light

I have never been one who worries about little wild-things in nature.

When Miss Spring arrives I keep my front door ajar.
After all, my nemesis is root bound so all is safe on the flora-front.

Plus, most of the snake are still sleeping. Most are. Most live in the backyard down by the creek, anyway.

The air smells fresh and the light breeze is such a surprising treat!

"I am back!" the welcomed breeze dances over my bare arms & legs. "Had you forgotten me?"

"I have been waiting," I politely reply whilst issuing a sigh of patient & appreciative relief.

I know soon the outside air will be impossible to breath due to overwhelming & unbelievable mugginess. Buggy things will want to fly inside to escape the oppressive heat.

Who can blame? After all this is Florida.

But right now I want to feel the bit of pleasant air that Mother Nature can manage to finagle for us Southerners.

I want to view the last of bright green winter-rye before it melts like a lime snow-cone on a summer beach.

If you do not mind these lovey ones you are welcome to sit on my front porch, drink some iced-tea and have a pimento-cheese sandwich cut on the angle--with or without the crust cut off.

You can sit in the porch swing or take a rocker.
{{ Sometimes it is best to lift the cushion first before sitting, just in case a green rain-frog is napping there. Fair warning. }}

haiku my heart ~~ exploding nature

everywhere i go,
Spring*time, you are in my face...
{ that is fine with me }

tourist tuesday and earth angels in sanford, florida

Some days it feels plum good to run away.

Here in Florida there are tons of places to run to.

Last Saturday I snuck away to Sanford, Florida to see the ~heART of winter~ art show presented by Earth Angels.

That Jen really knows how to pull Talent & A Good Time together for the betterment of a grand Saturday afternoon.

Many of the artist who were showcased in Sanford have been featured in Where Woman Create, the magazine which takes you behind the scenes of art*pieces, putting you smack~dab into each artist's own studio.

I love this glance behind the curtain that WWC provides, don't you?

To find Magda Trzaski's amazing artwork  you simply look for red balloons.

To find somepinkflowers you easily follow Jennifer Lanne's contagious smile.

Besides charming & stylish people and lush & extravagant flowers enjoying this event, there were flocks/herds/packs of fasinating critters in attendance.

I love seeing an occassional squirrel  holding court, don' you?

Flying tin fish...

A pup that looked amazingly real & lifelike...

All fashions of foks strolled in...

Some hung out all the day long making bemused faces...

This large gallery had plenty of space for local artist and their creatures, too.

Never enough flowers in my world...

And me sneaking a peek as I am known to do....

Some days it feels plum good to run away and see new things.

Some days it feels plum good to run away and find a place where others are playing, too.

Some days is feels plum good to run away close to home and buy cutie*pie things.

{{ PS: Here is me with a plum tree growing outta my head last Saturday when I ran away from home. }}

dear lea

I was skipping around over here...

and I came upon this lovely photo & yummy poem...

...which so inspired me to go outside
and look around my own yard.

Then, as has become my second nature--
as looking up is my first nature--I looked down.

Thanks you ever~so, Lea, for reminding me!
I had plum forgotten, what with Life Happening and all...

I had forgotten to look for my favorite Florida February wildflower and here is it now March!

I almost missed The Big Blooming Violet Event!
Thank you ever~so, Lea, for the fine inspiration.
This last wild violet is especially for you.

by the lake where creativity blooms

Life has a way of jumping up at me and I am suddenly distrac...

Overwhelmed I forget to do little things from my never-ending list.
Do this.     Go there.       Too. Much. Stuff. To. Do.

Important tasks are accomplished but the small fun-filled treats can easily be misplaced.

My body may trick me at times. I walk upstairs to get the vacuum cleaner and I come back down with a basket of embroidery instead.  

Oops. What goes on here? My hands know best where my heart wants to be.

To separate the want-to-do from the must-do is not my most favorite activity.

I take such fine pleasure in going to church early on Sunday morning. Among other things, it gently focuses my week and softly stills my busy brain.

I sit in the cool, dim vastness and little is expected of me.

Sit and stand and make a joyful noise singing.

Some weeks I want everyday to be  Sunday.

There is such easy comfort in the ritual of seated meditation.
No matter where it may be found.

My head spins extra fast with possibilities when I am near the sea, a wide river or a huge welcoming lake.

Water nearby recharges me. The splashing ions stir me up.

I can barely sit still from all that water busy evaporating up into clouds. Old things changing into new things. Liquid into vapor. A thought flash into a poem.

I feel things surging just under the ripply surface. Waiting to be free.

In the duskiness words float up at me from the water.

"Write this down now," the words plead.
"This is good stuff," the words brag.

Sometime words are bossy know-it-alls. Pushy. Insistent.

In the gloaming even colors beg to be newly named.

If by the water's edge you were to place Sister Muses--non-judgmental, encouraging types who know a thing or two about creating on their own--then my heart does jump up and fly from the sincere support.

Sister Muses are the sun shining down on my wheatgerm of an idea.

One gleaming ray warms the kernel which in turn feeds the masses.

Or something.

I am inspired by artful nurturing.

Open critiques and shared secrets combine well with glimmer mist. 

Golden moments are bright treasures.

By the lake where creativity blooms.

green me in the green mountains

Well
I did not fly to London to visit the Queen but almost.
I jumped aboard a big ol' jet airliner
to Vermont to see this one
for an art journaling workshop. 
Oh happy week!

Thanks so much, eb!
{{ Stay tuned. }}

today is labor day here in the US of A

Only ants are working in my neighborhood.
No energy will be spent by me
unless I make tea
or turn a page in my book.

expanding my point of view

Down US1, ten minutes from my kitchen door, the sun slides out of the sea to hang in the sky to dry. 

Across the porch, ten steps from my front door, something has been munching on the hollyhocks.

Me and Earl Grey are trying to decide which direction our day will take. Head for a quick dunk in the Atlantic or preform some much needed garden maintenance?

Which will it be?

Two major pests haunt my gardens, front and back, if you do not count the armadillo.

In the name of domestic tranquility I have assigned the backyard, down near the creek, as Official Armadillo Territory.

What they do back there is nobody's business. Come along to the front yard and they stand to be relocated into a laundry basket, topped with an old cookie sheet, and then transported by Jeep west across the railroad track. They never make it back here. I am certain.

I give fair warning.
Families may be separated.
Think twice about moseying around to the front of my house, armadillo family!

Grasshoppers and slugs drive me up the garden wall.
They are the two pests that take up TONS of my valuable time as I WOULD NEVER THINK TO STEP ON ONE AND SQUISH IT.

I spray no pesticides. I belong to the Church of Relocation.

Grasshoppers and slugs are gentle moved by hand down near the creek where the black snakes swim and the owls feast.

I'm just saying...

I own about  2 dozen pairs of garden gloves as I also must wrestle from time-to-time with poison ivy.

I gather up my grasshoppers and my slugs with covered hands as the feel of them on naked skin makes me feel puny and fainthearted.

The grasshoppers are all crunchy hard with sharp elbows and hairy, barbed feet. The slugs are slimy, tough and squirmy. If this description makes you feel all puny and fainthearted, why, I do understand.

I have never quite figured out why I like squirrels as they are only rats with fluffy tails. 

It is the same with raccoons. Aren't they only 'possums wearing fluffy tails?

Rats and opossums do not melt my heart or make me think of sweet storybook characters. Not one bit.

Likewise, when a slug wears a spiraling shell, my feelings go soft and kind as with fluffy~tailed squirrels and raccoons.

"Look!" I kindly point out somewhat breathlessly, "a little snail making its glossy, iridescent trail!"

Even snail eye~stalks do not offend me, wildly waving about as they are apt to do.

When I see a shell-less slug sluggishly making a journey I know straight away he is doomed to the Nuisance Relocation Program.

Why, oh, why am I so prejudiced? I have no idea.

My day would be simpler if critters just flew in, poked about for a short time, and then flew out.

Take the nectar! Take the pollen! Leave only microscopic footprints, please!

This would satisfy me to no end.

Instead, many garden annoyances move right on in permanently, eating holes in scalloped leaves, deforming blooming pink~perfections, throwing parties, and, in general, spoiling the view.

Down US1 ten minutes from my kitchen door the sun slides out of the sea to hang in the sky to dry.

A quick dunk in the Atlantic wins hands down.

It is August now, no hurricane is brewing and I am playing in the surf while the getting is good.

Everybody has to be somewhere. Every thing needs breakfast.

These hollyhocks have had a good run since April. Already the blossoms are fading and shrinking in size due to the sweltering heat. Soon it will be time for marigolds.

Finishing the Earl Gray, I turn my back to certain destruction and head on out.

To the snail, to the grasshopper, my hollyhocks may resemble the last of the strawberries or the final cherries of the season.

I am just not going to worry about it today.