Although I’ve been doing a lot of changes inside the house, I haven’t neglected the outside.
The wild flower seeds I scattered in front of the hibiscus where the day lilies once thrived are starting to bloom:
The hibiscus weren’t frozen to the ground this past winter and are in full riot:
I tossed the rest of the green onion seeds into this large terracotta planter and the ones that get shade during the hotter part of the day (like when these pics were taken) are thriving:
The sweet peas are doing more than just holding their own:
I removed the dead, dying and one thriving loropetalum and replaced them with two pink and two red double blooming knock-out roses:
Mindy is her own hair stylist; I take no credit for this look:
These little babies may some day produce cucumbers:
Only two of the six watermelon plants I transplanted from the terracotta planter made it:
I thought I had lost my miniature gardenia, but the perfume in the air told a different tale:
The palm trees to the north in the backyard are getting vera vera big!
The palm trees to the south in the backyard are trying to catch up and are far over my head now:
This tomato plant committed suicide the day after I transplanted it. I tucked the broken end into the soil and it’s doing great (Gary said the tomato is one of the few plants that can re-root itself–many thanks to Gary for his seedlings!):
The other tomato seedling is doing well, too:
The other grow box (planted first) is coming along nicely:
The peppers are flowering, the green onions are crowded, and the sweet peas aren’t as big as the ones outside, but all-in-all I am pleased:
Looking at all these pending veggies reminds me that I sliced off the side of my thumb last week while chopping up veggies (I really should be banned from all kitchen duties!). The cut wouldn’t stop bleeding so the doc applied some silver nitrate (which felt worse than the cut) and it’s on the mend (although looking particularly gross). As soon as I cut it, I vividly recalled one of my favorite Sylvia Plath poems from my freshman college days:
What a thrill –
My thumb instead of an onion.
The top quite gone
Except for a sort of hinge
A flap like a hat,
Then that red plush.
The Indian’s axed your scalp.
Your turkey wattle
Straight from the heart.
I step on it,
Clutching my bottle
Of pink fizz.
A celebration, this is.
Out of a gap
A million soldiers run,
Redcoats, every one.
Whose side are they on?
Homunculus, I am ill.
I have taken a pill to kill
The stain on your
Gauze Klu Klux Klan
Darkens and tarnishes and when
Pulp of your heart
Confronts its small
Mill of silence
How you jump –