England is A Garden

The words are from a poem by Rudyard Kipling, and how true they are. A recent day spent in my own garden inspired me to reflections on England. It was a gray drizzley day, (is that a word even?) and as I worked in between the soft showers all day long, I imagined I was gardening in England, where I'm sure such a damp day is the norm for a day in May.

This beautiful book is one of the treasures that I found in England, so unique in the way the artist combined sketches of  architecture in pencil with watercolor illustrations  of flowers 

Inspired by the book, I decided to try the technique to illustrate my gazebo and the peonies 

 blooming nearby.

Some talismans that keep the English gardens always close  ..

my trugs, terra cotta pots and fancies, and of course my water cans.  The large conservatory can I hand-carried on board the plane on my return flight - much to the amusement of my fellow travelers.

In addition to tangible inspirations, I returned from 

England with visions of cottage gardens, stone walls, wattle fences, dovecotes, thyme benches, and of course masses of climbing, rambling roses. 

I immediately set about transforming my own spaces and places to channel the gardens of England.  Some of these endeavors were successful, some were not - another wonderful learning experience from nature.  The climate in the Midwest is NOT the same as the climate in England - and that single factor does make a difference.

This little cottage became the setting for a Beatrix Potter Garden, inspired by the little books and planted with many of the vegetables and herbs mentioned in the stories of Peter, Benjamin, Jemima Puddleduck, and Jeremy Fisher.

A staddle stone  (looks like a mushroom!),  a stone trough with a burrowing hedgehog , and the majestic spires of foxglove all contribute to the feeling.

Got most of what I need for a cottage garden - just missing those chickens - I'm not giving up on that one yet - stay tuned 

Well worn Wellies

Roses of Yesterday and Today

This was the title of a fabulous catalog of Old Fashioned Roses from California - one that I used to order from every year to add one or two fragrant species to my garden. Im thinking that it could also be a title for a chapter in my own garden story - as so many of the roses I have planted, tended and loved are now truly "Roses of Yesterday".   

William Baffin once made quite a splash on the arbor. I cut him back two years ago when he seemed hopelessly riddled with fungus and disease, and I do believe he is trying to make a comeback this year.



Too many to count,  I remember most fondly a pale pink Moss Rose with a fragrance like sweet clove that once rested against the white fence , and of course Constance Spry, the very first David Austin rose,  that I saw climbing robustly in nearly every garden on a trip through  England.

 My "Constance" embraced the post of a dovecote  in my garden for years, but finally decided she was done living with me abut 3 years ago. A very vigorous Honeysuckle has since  taken her place.

Missing Constance,  I ordered a new one last spring,  and she is settling in a little reluctantly I think. We shall see . . .

Roses before Peonies? 

The star Rose in my garden today is this Rosa Rugosa  "Belle Poitevine". She is blooming as never before, and in April ! She is said to be from Bruant , France, 1894, and of unknown parentage - how romantic is that?

Speaking of unknown parentage - this white rose has been with me for about 20 years and continues to thrive, growing to over  8 feet tall if I let it . I have forgotten the name, and while most years it resembles a very large bush sporting hundreds of wads of  limp wet white tissues, this year it looks like it has real roses!  Hooray !

I'm harvesting petals every day for potpourri , the most deliciously fragrant chore you can imagine.
It started out as a way to keep ahead of the soon to emerge Japanese beetles, clipping the open blossoms each morning, when I realized  that the more flowers I clipped, the more bloomed the next day. 

I did get a bit of a scolding yesterday from a very busy little bee - one of many that are every bit as happy as I am with these voluptous pink blooms.

The petals are drying in the loft, filling the old barn with their perfume. When dry, they will join a sweet symphony 
of other herbs and spices in a Potpourri to enjoy for years to come.  
 A perfect way to make the Roses of Yesterday remain The Roses of Today.

The Egg and I

Every Spring is the only spring - a perpetual astonishment - Ellis Peters

Which came first? The chicken or the Egg?

Every - bunny is into eggs this time of year - the symbol of new life, and  a most important element in our Easter celebration. But the best thing about eggs is eating them. 

 The egg is on my top 10 list of favorite foods.

Poached or soft boiled, the creamy whites and bright yellow yolks need only a slight sprinkle of salt and pepper to accent their delicious flavor.

 As soon as the chives poke their tender green shoots 

through the warm soil, 

I know its time to scramble some eggs for lunch. 

Adding the newly green leaves of lemon thyme

 make it better yet.

Egg cups are perfect holders for 

seedlings of chives and cress.

Plant the seeds right in the egg shell.

Of course, you can also use an egg cup for it's intended purpose, to hold and serve your soft boiled egg -  this little knitted chicken will keep it cozy and warm while you butter the toast.

The baskets are ready for the Easter Egg Hunt. 

They wont be empty much longer

The hunters have assembled and are ready to go . . .

With the egg tree in the center, the children's table is set for

 Easter Brunch. Individual egg cups are planted with grass to hold the carrot place tags, and the Peter Rabbit china sits on egg-shaped place mats. That egg hunt has stirred up quite an appetite - lets eat!

Garden Games

Garden Games

Its March and I'm just getting out to my garden to do some serious clean up - along with Spring clean up comes discovery - the fun part, and in an effort to keep my sense of humor in the midst of the rakes, shovels, bags and enough branches and twigs to build a small bridge to nowhere, I think my garden is playing games with me.

Hide and Seek

This exquisite primula was patiently waiting to be uncovered, peeking out just enough  from the big oak leaves to catch my eye.  Its always a joyous occasion when this little plant returns in the spring

Hop Scotch

The digitalis has jumped over the boards and created a new colony in the pathway. This is one of my favorite flowers, and I am more than thrilled with all the new offspring. Now to find a  home for them before they get too big . . . .

Catch Me If You Can

Well,  this game is going on everywhere I look. A madly mild winter,  combined with temperatures in March that would be more appropriate for June,  is pumping all the plants up, and the result is an explosion of growth and bloom.  Trees, shrubs, bulbs, everything is racing to put out blossoms and leaves all at once.  There will be no gradual unfolding of the garden this year - its going to be wild ride Mr Toad!

Little Pink Houses



Think of the inside of your house as your soul and the outside architecture as something like your bone structure, your gentle inheritance . . .our true home is inside each of us, and it is your love of life that transforms your house into your home.

- Alexandra Stoddard

Cant get enough of those palm trees, old Florida stucco cottages, and early morning walks in the warm sunshine, where I passed all of these little charmers. I left my I pod and music at home  and chose to tote my camera instead - just too many photo ops to miss. I didn't miss the music at all, the birds and the ocean waves in the background more than made up for it.




There's Flamingo Pink

And  Banana Yellow

And Mint Green

And Ice White

. . . .who knows what color this one is - it's completely blanketed by a solid covering of  teeming tropical life. I can only imagine how many tiny little lizards are happily scampering in and out of the vines.

The monstrous mega- mansions that are slowly replacing the look and feel of so many neighborhoods can certainly impress, but too many original works of  historic Florida architecture have been sacrificed. It was really heartwarming for me to observe the many older homes that are obviously still cherished and lovingly maintained.

Here's a peek inside a special little Florida cottage, well loved and happily home over the years to countless seekers of the warmest and sunniest  hospitality to be found anywhere.

Wherever your address , whatever the climate you are dealing with,  whatever the color of your house,  know you are in a special place, the place where you live.  I wonder if the mailman smiles when he gets to this address each day?  I sure hope so!

Isn't this the  perfect wine for a beach picnic?  I wanted to save the label, but couldn't get it off the bottle, so I had to paint it instead. Cheers!

Under The Covers,

There is a special place . . . where good works are done-

where elegance is spun from snippets and scraps . . . 

The one and only quilt I can remember from my childhood graced my bed for a very short time. It was white with flowers embroidered on the squares, and it was made by my mother's mother. One day as I was playing on my bed with scissors, (Something I did a lot it seems!), I cut into the quilt and I knew I was in trouble.  I managed to cover up the cut for a few days, but when it was discovered by my mom, the quilt went away never to be seen again. I cant even imagine how she must have felt, and I don't remember how she reacted, but all these years later my heart aches for her. 

When I saw this stack of quilt squares in a tag sale a few years ago I recognized them immediately . The very same quilt of my childhood. I purchased them of course, with great plans to recreate that lost quilt, recapture that memory and heal the scar. Ah, the power of a quilt- pieces of  simple but lovingly stitched scraps of cloth by someone long gone.

The inspiration for quilts comes from every place in our world, especially the garden. 

Quilts in the nursery are the most precious -

 stitched  lovingly to keep the babies warm and cozy

Quilts are for beds its true - but they are so much more, they are memories of little girls dresses long ago cast aside, scraps of feed bags not to be wasted, and most of all, they are the work of many hands together , hands belonging to women who sought and found a way to bring art and beauty into the bleakest, simplest and hardest circumstances of their lives.  Piecing and quilting these warm covers was often the only outlet women had for the fire of creativity that burned within their souls,  and the only way to feed their hunger for community and companionship.

My first quilt, embroidered lovingly by a girl with dreams of her first home,  and how she would make it beautiful 

with the work of her own hands.

A pile of collected quilts , each one made by different hands in different years, settles easily into a blended  family.

Art comes in many forms, and fabric art is surely the humblest and most noble of them all.  Quilting today has evolved into a world of computer programs and machine stitching, but for me, the allure and the pleasure

is inseparable from the feel of the fabric in my fingers, the motion of  the needle as it slowly pierces the layers, and all of it laying right in my lap as I sit in my favorite comfortable chair.