It's been almost a year since I won the Joss & Main giveaway hosted by Carlee at Deliciously Organized. I used the gift card to buy a gorgeous embroidered pillow and a Japanese style light fixture for my front porch. For over a year, the light sat on a dark shelf in my hall closet until yesterday when I pulled her out and hired a handyman to have it installed. I would have done it myself, but there was some masonry work involved.
Then, in May of last year, I won a Ramsign giveaway from Valorie - The Visual Vamp. Once again, I tucked away my beautiful little porcelain number plate in the hall closet hoping to get it out on the porch at some point. So, now my little duo of giveaway prizes are proudly mounted to the left of my front door. Thank you Valorie and Carlee for helping me add a little curb appeal to my Texas ranch house.
My back yard is blooming. Yesterday, my boys and I spent the afternoon tending our garden and enjoying the warm (but not too warm) Texas weather. I don't have a very green thumb and until this year, I've never had a vegetable patch. But this year I'm filled with inspiration and optimism for my little green space.
Above, is a photo of a Mallow I transplanted last year. It was in shock and a comeback in the spring seemed unlikely. But, she surprised me last week when she popped out a bunch of fresh green leaves. Below, is a photo of my four-year-old son, Walker, watering his veggies. His first question was, "When can we eat it all?" Patience, darling boy, patience.
Above: a yellow Jasmine climbing up a bamboo ladder. And below, my delighted son Charlie (19 mos.) swinging in his beloved porch swing. Is there anything better than swinging? I don't think so.
I always litter my garden with images of sprites, minor goddesses and the like. They make up for my lack of skill in the garden with fairy dust and magic energy. Below: a fresh bunch of Sweet Basil cropping up in a clay container.
I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes about gardening:
...but, oh, what a spectacular inheritance she left behind.
Adrienne Rich
May 16, 1929 – March 27, 2012
Diving Into the Wreck
by Adrienne Rich
First having read the book of myths,
and loaded the camera,
and checked the edge of the knife-blade,
I put on
the body-armor of black rubber
the absurd flippers
the grave and awkward mask.
I am having to do this
not like Cousteau with his
assiduous team
aboard the sun-flooded schooner
but here alone.
There is a ladder.
The ladder is always there
hanging innocently
close to the side of the schooner.
We know what it is for,
we who have used it.
Otherwise
it is a piece of maritime floss
some sundry equipment.
I go down.
Rung after rung and still
the oxygen immerses me
the blue light
the clear atoms
of our human air.
I go down.
My flippers cripple me,
I crawl like an insect down the ladder
and there is no one
to tell me when the ocean
will begin.
First the air is blue and then
it is bluer and then green and then
black I am blacking out and yet
my mask is powerful
it pumps my blood with power
the sea is another story
the sea is not a question of power
I have to learn alone
to turn my body without force
in the deep element.
And now: it is easy to forget
what I came for
among so many who have always
lived here
swaying their crenellated fans
between the reefs
and besides
you breathe differently down here.
I came to explore the wreck.
The words are purposes.
The words are maps.
I came to see the damage that was done
and the treasures that prevail.
I stroke the beam of my lamp
slowly along the flank
of something more permanent
than fish or weed
the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth
the drowned face always staring
toward the sun
the evidence of damage
worn by salt and away into this threadbare beauty
the ribs of the disaster
curving their assertion
among the tentative haunters.
This is the place.
And I am here, the mermaid whose dark hair
streams black, the merman in his armored body.
We circle silently
about the wreck
we dive into the hold.
I am she: I am he
whose drowned face sleeps with open eyes
whose breasts still bear the stress
whose silver, copper, vermeil cargo lies
obscurely inside barrels
half-wedged and left to rot
we are the half-destroyed instruments
that once held to a course
the water-eaten log
the fouled compass
We are, I am, you are
by cowardice or courage
the one who find our way
back to this scene
carrying a knife, a camera
a book of myths
in which
our names do not appear.
I planted twelve tiny Impatiens plants in my front yard yesterday. I have a few little dark patches that don't get sun all year - perfect for these shade loving blooms. The first time I saw our house, I immediately noticed a riot of hot pink and white Impatiens flanking each side of the walk up. The previous owner obviously had a very green thumb. I'm going to attempt an Impatiens reprise this year! I'll take some photos when they grow a bit, but until then enjoy these beautiful spring arrangements:
Today, I ran my first ever 5K. When I signed up in December, I couldn't even run a mile without dry heaving. Okay, that's an over-statement... but I didn't always dry heave, sometimes I just couldn't feel my feet or ears. But today, I did it. I ran the whole way and had lots of fun. You can read about it HERE if you're interested. XO
This is the back yard of Lucy and Stephen Marr. I believe they live in Aukland, NZ and I found their lovely glass garden house at The Selby via Danie of Pasadya. Thank you Danie!!
I always post about boho fashions for women and tend to neglect the men folk. No more! Today I've collected a beautiful array of male fashions for the artsy boho men in my life. Enjoy!
