What's Your palette?

Messes are the artist's true friend - we need to make messes in order to find out who we are and why we are here -

While browsing in a vintage shop

recently, my friend and fellow shopper commented  "That's perfect for you, its your palette". That led to an interesting discussion of how each of us has our own unique set of color preferences, and we are indeed drawn to those colors or combinations of colors over and over again, almost unconsciously. An awareness of this has remained with me ever since, and sure enough - just look around you , in your closet, in your bedroom, in your garden.  You might discover a layer of your own personality that is uniquely you, your palette

From an artist's point of view, what ends up on the canvas or the paper starts here - on the palette.  Its the place where the painter has the most fun and faces the most challenges .  Here are the mixes, the choices, the happy accidents and the struggles to achieve just the right shade.  The loaded and well-used palette itself  is art of a unique kind, to be appreciated by anyone with a love of color and an understanding of just how sensitive and magic color can be.

A palette can be an  expensive ceramic piece

Or a simple plastic model

A metal folding model is perfect for the Plein Air painter

The glorious mess that happens on a palette has a story to tell

Inspiration for fashion and photography

Vintage palettes are a rare and special find 

This little vintage metal watercolor palette has found new life as a display /magnet board for miniature watercolors. I like to imagine that it must have been someone's traveling companion years ago. Clean now of paint, except for a few stains, I wonder what lovely washes were mixed long ago, and what paintings might have resulted.

  You don't have to be an artist to relish colors , they are all around us every day, just waiting to be noticed and marveled at .  What's your palette?

shabby but not chic

How quickly the natural world returns to its own order after we have passed through it, shouting our names -

Joe Comer, Pocketful of Names

Shabby seems to be the word that describes it best, most of my garden needs a haircut and so do I.


Viewer discretion advised . . . these are not pretty pictures

The foxglove is still struggling to stand tall, but the stalks are covered with browning blossoms, and the seed heads are forming.  Since this patch of elegant flowers seems to enjoy staking out its own territory in my garden, I'm going to ignore the untidiness of it all and let it happen , secure in the knowledge that they will reappear again next year in all their pink and crimson glory..

The roses are flushing out in a meager burst of bloom, nothing to compare with their first glorious show a month ago, and while I'm not impressed, the Japanese beetles seem to be less discriminating.  So its "off with their heads" by me, in an effort to win that crazy game.

Geraniums have gone from compact globes of brilliant blue to tall, scraggly, tangled masses. Its as if they  know that as long as they are blooming in some fashion I cant bear to cut them back. But I will gather my courage and my scissors and show them who is boss tomorrow!

The chamomile flops, refusing to perform as a lawn or ground cover for me, and the trumpet vine threatens to take over the world. It definitely has taken over the stone well - 

The hollyhocks are smallish , their bases riddled with rust and insect holes, and I fear I may not even get one  hollyhock doll out of them.


I could go on and on, but nobody can stand a gardener who whines all the time.




This year my garden has survived a very hot and dry spring, as well as a large helping of neglect from the gardener, that's me. So in all fairness, I really need to be both forgiving and tolerant.  With eyes that look at the big picture, I must say that for every shabby spot there is also a spot of  beauty,  Its always an  adventure to see what happens when I DONT  take control and nature does. I know, I never really had control anyway.

Notes on a French Market

Joie de vivre - a feeling of healthy enjoyment of life, exhuberance

It was a gathering of Creme de la creme

 One whole day, lots of vendors with beautiful wares, and some really tasty treats to keep everyone well fed! Let's relive it one more time!

This is our signature scene for the Market with a French feeling,  so if you haven't been to Paris yet, just come to Moss Ave. on September 22, no air travel required!

Setting up is half the fun, Stone Well Garden offered vintage garden antiques and herbs. 

Happy Customers and Happy Vendors - who can tell the difference?

French women cant have too many beautiful scarves. They were going fast. The artist here must be calling her silk broker in the Orient to order more precious fabric. 

Exquisite jewelry , letterpress and sweet creations of linen and lace, a winning mix.

Baguettes and Croissants - yummy and double yummy . . . . .

As if the French bakery wasnt enough, more breads, beeswax candles and books from our favorite Monastery, St. Bede's.

The line at the Creperie never stopped!

Pastries must be washed down with French Roast!

Every Atelier requires a smiling staff

There were fabulous finds at every turn, and we cant wait to do it again in September, au revoir!

French macarons

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.