Golden Morning

I'm listening to the Weston Priory Brothers gently singing, and looking out at golden-lit pine tops while Cardinals and Blue Jays coast from one bare limb to another. Nameless smaller birds flit higher--in the pine tops, their smooth bellies reflecting the golden morning.

But then I see it; the Mexican Petunia curves up the balcony corner, branches (few as there are) reach through the rails into air, where last night’s incessant rain toppled it. So I run into the cold to right it. Brrr, a sweater isn’t enough; and to think that last night we were “sweltering.” I set the small pot with its giraffe resident up again. And again. Finally I’m hoping that the mono-filament line that gave the hyacinth bean vine height will now give stability to the Mexican Petunia.

The warmth of the morning sun on my indoor garden is more to my liking than the outdoor chill. Now that the pear leaves are gone, the bright light reveals dusty “Lucky Bamboo” and dracaena leaves. Warm water on a cloth or paper towel not only clears dust from the plants’ breathing apparatus but adds welcome humidity. Since dust always dulls color; their colors now shine brighter and that’s (almost) always good.

Varying Levels

When Hurricane Irene headed for the East Coast of the U.S. last weekend, I had to take my hanging baskets and wind chimes down. It was really just a precaution since we only had a bit of bluster; the forecasters said that the winds would gust up to forty mph. However, we’ve had as much as eighty mph since we’ve lived in this home with no problem—that’s not to say that others didn’t have problems with their trees or that it wasn’t scary, but that my garden and home were fine.

Though very crowded around my feet, without the hanging elements, the garden looked barren above—like a big gaping hole. I realized again how important it is to me to have a garden that surrounds me on various levels. I’ve never been satisfied with a flowerbed with ankle or knee-high plants that I peer down at. In art classes, we artists are always told, that we need to vary the view in our paintings in order to keep the eye interested, “Never make any two things (or lines), even if they are like things, exactly the same.”

My husband and I bought the wind chimes at a Renaissance Festival in 1979; they’ve held up remarkably well all these years. Still, I decided to restring the pipes before rehanging them; they’re strung with monofilament. I’m glad that I learned to tie knots in Girl Scouts and that my troop leader wouldn’t put up with “granny knots”!

Monofilament is a wonderful product; I use it a lot to hang things. It’s inexpensive, strong and nearly invisible.