Category Archives: new year

last summer

At the end of each year, I update the last of the pictures from my phone that I want to add to the yearly album I keep on Facebook–this year labeled “2016.” Each year, I scroll back through the photos and reminisce about the previous year. This time I came across a few photos of the gardening I did last summer, and I thought I would share here–an update to the “gardening” post I did at the beginning of the summer.

14484652_10210913523020525_8697859291015077322_n

flowerbed near the end of the season

Plants that struggled:
The zucchini. This poor little thing was transplanted at least twice, and it just never succeeded. I also think I crowded it, which didn’t help–that, plus the cool summer and the somewhat shady location meant this little plant tried to bloom, and made a few tiny zucchinis, but nothing much.

The hostas. I’ve had lots of good luck with my “sum and substance” plant, which I’ve written about here, here, and here. When a hailstorm destroyed my big hosta for the season, I was missing those big, beautiful leaves. So, I bought and planted more. Many more. But, they never seemed to flourish. I’m hoping they’ll pop up in the spring for a fresh start.

The honeysuckle. This plant might’ve been crowded, and I’m hoping it will flourish in the coming year, but it promptly lost it’s petals and was nothing more than a few fronds of leaves for the entire summer.

The coleus. I want to like coleus because all of the garden gurus seems to love it, and it’s a splash of color, and yadda yadda yadda, but they don’t really speak to me, and anyway this year’s coleus got leggy, couldn’t stand even the mildest cold, and then died.

Plants that thrived:
The sunsatia lemon nemesia hybrid. I didn’t really want to like this plant because it’s a hybrid, and I tend to like traditional plants that have stood the test of time, but I have to admit that this plant was perfect for last summer’s conditions. It bloomed all summer and offered a bright burst of color to the flowerbed.

The strawberry plants. These hardy little plants had bright green leaves, sent out feelers, and made lovely berries (that the birds and grasshoppers usually got to before I could), despite a rough transplant. The little berries were tasty, and I’m hoping they return next year, even bigger and better than before.

The yarrow. There was already some yarrow in this flowerbed when I began, and so I planted more, and sure enough, this hardy herb did just fine. They also inspired some nice photos!

15895556_10211951436207706_273252119754877794_o

pink yarrow

15895938_10211951434727669_5790255741930784845_o

yellow yarrow

Plants that are doing okay:
The dianthus. This is a hardy plant, and I think it will thrive next year, but this year it was completely average looking.

The pansies. These are cold hardy, and they’re going to thrive here, but they weren’t very inspiring this year. I’m sure I’ll be grateful for them in the spring when they’re the first thing to pop up.

The black-eyed susan. This is another plant that should thrive here. They didn’t do much last year. They plant wasn’t very full. They bloomed. Maybe next year they will do more.

Plants from container gardening:
Thanks to watering help from my Very Generous Neighbors, I also enjoyed several months of delicious zucchinis and tomatoes as seen below:


Right now, it’s the middle of winter. The temperature is -8, and there’s a windchill that’s making it even worse. Meanwhile I am dreaming about sun-warmed soil, and fresh chard, and garden vegetables, and raspberry bushes too, of course.

Advertisements

gardening

This year my garden is planted with
emerald blue rock cress
creeping phlox
mules hybrid doctor
early sunrise tickseed
coreopsis grandiflora
lemon yellow sun soft pink coleus
orange symphony potentilla
horned violet rose mum
black-eyed susan rudbeckia
purple dragon viola
portulaca sundial
moonshine x
butterfly daisies
snow on the mountain or bishop’s weed
lupine columbine yarrow
american halo
hosta
elegans
and hope.

13443208_10209982683110109_6364634086596821399_o

columbine

13433258_10209982724671148_8726775559814112129_o

lupine

20160612_160910-1.jpg

coreopsis

 

compulsory new year message and ruminations on entertainment

In the past few days, I’ve had some pretty dire thoughts about human existence, which is just that it is a pointless string of entertainment, that is horrifically toxic to all living things, and then you die, having killed countless other living things along the way.

pointlessness of existence

pointlessness of existence

Since I’ve been home, I’ve been caring for my nephew quite a lot. Now, understand that he is the cutest and best kid. I’m not used to being around children, but this one is wonderful. He is kind and friendly and curious and smart and just generally a wonderful blessing to be around. As wonderful as he is, caring for a young person has me thinking some deeper, more existential and nihilistic thoughts about the pointlessness of existence.

A friend once told me that 10% of the population is creator and 90% of the population is consumer. I am not a huge consumer of entertainment. In part, that’s because I grew up in the backwoods of Eastern Oregon, where “entertainment” was not readily available. As a result, I’ve always been a builder and a creator. Even if just in small ways. Even if it is just with these blog posts. I’d rather spend my time creating than being entertained.

In caring for a young child, I am struck by how everything is geared toward entertaining the child. There are the movies that play on repeat, of course, and the toys. I even find myself planning crafts and cooking activities. And, while they do provide an avenue for artistic creation and even some usefulness, I find that lately I’ve been thinking about them as entertainment as well—some way to pass the time between nap and bedtime. How profoundly pointless.

In the past year, I have created. I wrote a poem. I wrote some scholarship. I had some meaningful conversations with people from whom I had something to learn. I wrote articles. I wrote these. But more so than ever before, I entertained myself as a coping mechanism to deal with some heartache and some loneliness and some general and newfound directionlessness. To fill the void, I’ve entertained myself with pointless distractions that are not really in accord with building and creating, even if only in small ways.

Last night, for New Year’s Eve, I fully intended to stay in (subzero temperatures also made this appealing). I wanted to take some time to read, write, and reflect on 2014 and see if there were any insights to gain based on my actions. Unexpectedly, I was invited to join a small soiree of my mom’s new work colleagues. I had to drag myself out of the house (as usual), but I am so glad I went. These people lived in a home they had built on a mountainside many decades earlier. The walls were covered with paintings, macramé, brocades, and batistes that had been carefully gathered from around the world. Guitars, a harmonica, and books were lying throughout the home, and cozy couches and chairs circled an open fireplace. It was a space conducive to wine and intimate conversation. It was a home I might aspire to create for myself one day.

The people were a generation or two older than me, old hippies, academics, retired doctors, all passionately interested in ideas. One retired doctor, in an old shirt so awesome it had come back in style, pulled me aside for an impassioned conversation about memory. “I am my memory, but memory is undeniably fallible. So, then, what am I?” I love this man, I thought. This is what Z will be like when he is old, I thought. In the end, on New Year’s Eve, I was surrounded by my people. I was not entertained. I was engaged in conversation. I was staying focused. I was learning. I was enriched. I spoke with several women, with beautiful white hair and wrinkled faces, who told me about how they’d done things a little differently, and how it had all been for the best and that I could do things a little differently too. I felt encouraged. I have to remember that.

It was a beautiful, life-affirming evening, and I hope it is a harbinger of things to come in 2015.