Under the Tulip Tree

The Other Day I Noticed

There's quite a lot of...

ANY

ANY

ANY

ANY

ANY

ANY

ANY

Pink in my garden right now.

ANY

Broccoli Bust

I planted six Calabrese Heirloom broccoli starts this year. They were growing beautifully. They were happy. I waited for them to grow a little bigger before I harvested them but then I noticed the crowns had already started to spread out and were trying to flower. Darn it. I'd waited too long. Each stalk ripened at a slightly different rate, too, so when I did pick them, I only got one crown at a time. (I guess that's why you should plant more than six starts.) I couldn't think of ways to use one crown at a time so I started stockpiling them in the fridge.

Last weekend, I finally gathered all of the broccoli I had and prepared it for a little saute in melted butter and garlic. I lovingly washed and dried the meager crop and I sliced the crowns just the way I like them. I melted the butter in the pan and added the broccoli with tenderness and care. I watched it start to turn that yummy bright green and I could almost taste the earth. Then I noticed something else green, something not quite so yummy…

Worms.

One at a time that writhed and squirmed and crawled to the top of broccoli. Gross. I started picking them out and throwing them in the sink but after a half-dozen or so, the psychological damage had been done. There was no way I was going to eat that broccoli. I suddenly didn't feel like tasting the earth anymore.

I cursed those stinkin' Cabbage Whites and once again said a little word of thanks for my local organic farmers who offer perfectly ripe, worm-free, delicious food. But I'll try again soon. I'm not giving up that easily this year.

ANY

Tourists in Our Own Town

Sometimes it doesn't take much to become tourists in your own town. Sometimes all it takes is two tickets to a black-tie gala and suddenly there's a reason to spend the night in a hotel and send the kids home with Grandma (of course, we let them jump on the bed first).

And it's only a tiny bit embarrassing when the valet takes your keys, opens your door, and asks, "Where are you folks from?" And you say, shyly, "Uh, we're from here, actually." He'll think that's great anyway and that will make you feel a little less embarrassed.

When the hotel brings you a complementary bottle of Pinto Noir, you'll know it's time for the kids to go home and that you should start getting ready for the party.

You've done this getting-ready-at-the-hotel thing before—proms, weddings, graduations. Always more fun than getting ready at home.

You'll arrive at the gala and it will be very glamorous and sophisticated. Very old-fashioned and movie star-ish, too.

You will be served a plethora of drinks and libations. A plethora.

And then the ceiling will open up with confetti, just like on New Year's Eve, and people will dance and dance and dance.

Soon enough, the clock will strike midnight and it will be time to walk your tired feet back to your hotel room. And quite soon after that, the kids will be returned to you, all smiles and full backpacks, ready to explore the city.

It will be Rose Festival weekend so you'll be able to see the floats from the Grand Floral Parade. You'll get close enough to actually smell the roses.

Then you'll see the fair in action and realize there's absolutely no way you can't stop. The kids will love you for it.

(Anticipation before the ride begins)

(Elation after the ride ends)

After a few more rides, you'll have to coerce everyone back to the hotel, back to the car, and back home.

You will all be ready for home again anyway.

You'll love being a tourist in your own town, and you'll also love that it's only a 10-minute drive back home.

You will be very glad about that.

ANY

Father's Day Hash

Hi! Happy Belated Father's Day to all of the fathers out there! Did you have a nice day? I hope you did. I think my hubby had a nice day, too. It started with a short morning hike with the kids before breakfast while I stayed home to make Sweet Corn Hash from Joy the Baker. Her recipes are super-duper yummy and I'm pretty sure I've loved everything I've ever made from her site. I changed this up a little bit, though, and added some chicken chorizo sausage. I sauteed the sausage first then added it along with the potatoes and corn and served it all with scrambled eggs and bacon. The Mister and I both agreed that it was a very delicious way to start the day.

After our bellies were full, we spent the day at Oaks Park at the Mister's request. How we've never done this before I'm not exactly sure. But, anyway, here's my conclusion:

sweet corn hash + oaks park + hubby + kids = completely awesome

ANY

The School Year Ends

Historically, at the end of every school year, I am a total mess. A blubbering, whimpering mess. I know it's because time moves so quickly, and the kids are growing so fast, but it's also because the end of the school year is an immense, emotional release — a year-long sigh in the making. The weight of the brainstorming and the problem solving and the encouraging and the supporting and the listening and the analyzing and the wondering and the talking and the thinking and the re-thinking suddenly lifts (for a little while) and, for me, is released through tears.

In the final moments of the last day of school, all of the students gather in the front of the school and count down from ten at the very top of their lungs. Then the real cheering begins and the graduating sixth-graders run through the crowd, slapping hands with all of the younger students. Every year I cry during this part. And if some of the sixth-grade girls cry, too, I basically disintegrate into a pool of water on the floor.

I was a little worried about my state of mind this year because for the first time, I was going to watch my own sixth-grader run through the crowd. Uh-oh, I thought. This is going to be ugly. I am never going to be able to show my face here again. But as the crowd got bigger and the sound level got higher and Perry gripped my arm a little tighter in anticipation, I realized I was fine. I was totally fine. I was not crying. I watched my sixth-grader run through the crowd and I didn't shed a tear. I smiled and cheered, too, and was simply excited for her. Yes, I got a little teary saying goodbye to the teachers (I'm not made of steel after all) but I stayed in tact. All systems go.

Later that day I realized that I didn't cry during the sixth-grade celebration, either. Not even during the video montage of the pictures of the kids as babies. I didn't cry watching the boys fidget it their suits and ties. I didn't cry when I took their very last picture as a class. And I didn't cry when I realized that the three of us were biking home from school together for the last time. What is wrong with me? I thought. Have I lost all feeling?

And then I got it.

I am in total denial.

100% complete denial.

It's a beautiful thing and I can't believe I never thought of it before. I think I'll be using it for as long as I can.

ANY

A Hidden Nursery

It was a typical, late spring day in Oregon. It couldn't decide if it was going to be hot or cold, sunny or cloudy, or gray or blue. It was the perfect day to visit Bosky Dell Natives.

I brought my camera but I honestly didn't think I'd use it. I was going to be looking at plants after all. But something told me to bring it, something told me it would be worth it.

And, oh my goodness! It was! There were so many wonderful things to find! I started snapping photos in every direction, and my trip suddenly became much more about capturing the place than it was about reading plant labels. (Rest assured, I'll be back again soon to read those plant labels carefully.)

Stumbling upon this place was like stumbling into a fairy tale. Such unexpected surprises around every turn.

I wondered what it'd be like to live here. What would it be like to live in this charming place?

Of course, she made it this way so she must be rather charming herself.

Rocks and succulents and pine cones and tree stumps and old iron work. Meticulous and intricate but wild and unwieldy, all the same.

Can you just imagine what you'd find through that door? I wanted to know so badly! But it wasn't my place to peek.

The greenhouses kept drawing me in. Every nook and cranny was tended to, every plant cared for.

Every place was remembered, no spot was forgotten.

I was inspired to be more playful in my garden, and not worry so much about where things should go and how long they will last.

I was inspired to just put something there and find out.

I was just completely inspired.

ANY

The Bees Are Back

I was hoping our cold and wet spring would have deterred the orange-bandeds from flocking our red rhodie this year but, alas, it only seems to have delayed their arrival by a few weeks. They're here now, buzzing and busy and panicking like they'll never get another drink. They do seem to be a little less hysterical than they were last year and I can't hear them through the closed door, but there are still enough of them that I have to duck and run with the hose. I planted some new ground cover around the rocks in the path that leads to the backyard but it happens to be right under this bush and I haven't been able to check on it for days. It might need me.

For now, I'll just take pictures of the pretty rhodie and wait. I could follow the recommendation of a bee guy who once told me to shake off all of the blooms in the middle of the night and sweep away the petals. I thought that was crazy talk at the time but I must admit, the idea is starting to tempt me now. Very anti-gardener of me, I know.

ANY