Category Archives: Garden: Verb and Noun

As The Crow Flies

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Family can show up in different species, too.

My crow family (I refer to them as my cousins) are getting ready for spring by building nests in the backyard trees in preparation for the next gen. They return to the same location every year.

Did you know that crows are among the smartest animals in the world? Their intelligence is similar to that of chimpanzees. A crow’s brain accounts for almost two percent of its body mass, similar to that of humans.

I talk to them all the time and it seems as if they accept me and don’t even blink an eye when we’re together in the garden, and have brought me many shiny gifts throughout the years.

This crow cousin was gathering twigs and grasses for her nest. If you look closely, you’ll see she likes pine needles, too.

Nest construction begins in early March and will continue through about June. It takes one to two weeks to finish a nest after which the female will lay a clutch of two to six eggs.

Crow nests are made mostly of pencil-width twigs. A new nest is usually about 1.5 feet across and 8-10 inches deep.  After the bulk of construction is complete, they’ll line the cup of the nest with soft materials like grass, tree bark, moss, flowers, paper, or fur. 

Both partners participate in nest construction. Helpers might aid to some degree but most of the work is left to the parents. https://corvidresearch.blog/

I help too, and gave them the fringe I cut off a pillow that I planned to recover in a different fabric.

It’s raining today, unexpectedly, because all that was forecasted was some light drizzle, and now everything is wet. I hope my crow cousin’s nest is somewhere warm and dry. I’m going to look for more nesting material they might like to use because it makes me happy to think I’m kinda sorta like THEIR family, too.

(All photo credit to Enchanted Seashells.)

Enchanted Places

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“There is a garden in every childhood,
an enchanted place,
where colors are brighter,
the air is softer,
and the morning more fragrant than ever again.”

Quote by Elizabeth Lawrence
Art by Jessie Willcox Smith (1863 – 1935)
Curated from Ravenous Butterflies

Surveying a Joyful Garden

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“Beauty is everywhere a welcome guest.” – Goethe

Sometimes we don’t notice the beauty we’re surrounded with until we look with fresh eyes.

I was focused on a major cleanup project in the garden when I finally took a breath and looked up. It was only then that I noticed being surrounded with the joy of color. Everywhere I turned, I was greeted with the wonder of nature.

Blooming calendula…

Felicia amelloides variegata: ‘Variegated Marguerite Blue Daisy’…

“Let us come alive to the splendor that is all around us and see the beauty in ordinary things.” — Thomas Merton

 Yellow Marguerite Daisy…

…and prolific white daisy groundcover…

There’s so much to be grateful for!

Acacia in bloom…

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” — A.A. Milne

You’re totally right, Piglet!

All photo credit to Enchanted Seashells

Garden Visitor: Red-shouldered Hawk

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This Red-Shouldered Hawk is perched on a palm tree just over the fence in the open space.

I often see these majestic birds of prey soar high overhead or perch like this on tree branches. Its rising, whistled kee-rah is a distinctive sound. They hunt small mammals, amphibians, and reptiles.

I hope he’s looking for his next meal…he’s the very real definition of hawk-eye!

On a side note, could the sky BE any bluer? I think not.

(PS All photo credit to Enchanted Seashells)

What’s Growing in the Garden

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Mushrooms!

This is an indication of how much rain we’ve had in Southern California and just how soggy the garden is…and more rain is on the way.

Unidentified fungi appeared in the crevice of a split ficus trunk that was cut down a couple years ago because the roots were starting to come too close to the foundation.

I wanted to keep the stump instead of grinding it because I thought it was architecturally beautiful and now it’s decomposing exactly like I hoped it would.

These mushrooms are definitely not edible, right? They’re most likely poisonous and I’m certainly not going to find out one way or another. I’m not THAT curious or adventurous. Or dumb.

A day later, here’s how they morphed and darkened, plus it’s raining:

Fascinating!

I found a poem by Emily Dickinson about mushrooms…

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants –
At Evening, it is not
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop opon a Spot

As if it tarried always
And yet it’s whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay –
And fleeter than a Tare –

’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler –
The Germ of Alibi –
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie –

I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit –
This surreptitious Scion
Of Summer’s circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn –
Had Nature an Apostate –
That Mushroom – it is Him!

Portrait of a Finch

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My poetry professor would be proud of this haiku I wrote…

solitary finch
perched deep in the mulberry
will you stay or go?                                 
                                  By Princess Rosebud

This morning, I looked up into the branches of a winter-nude mulberry and couldn’t resist snapping a photo of this precious little finch.

I had to run to retrieve my phone as I willed her to stay long enough for a photo op. “Please don’t move, please don’t move, please don’t go.”

And she didn’t.

I was rewarded with a mostly monochromatic composition, which is exactly what I’d hoped for. In reality, the little bird has a yellow breast, but the quality of light turned everything almost colorless and dramatic.

If Thoughts Were Clouds

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If thoughts were clouds…what would these say?

As I cleaned up the garden from leaves and branches and other debris, I looked up and snapped a photo of the very last of the clouds from that atmospheric rain event that brought us four+ inches of rain in a short period of time.

It’s warm and the sun is drying out the soggy earth.

My Soul Mate is a Monster

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Sorry for the typo.

I meant to say my Giant Monstera is my soulmate. I certainly should have done a better job of proofreading…my bad.

This guy is the cause of my freak injury. I know I should hate him for it, but he’s so beautiful, especially when backlit by the sun.

I can’t help but love the source of my trauma, my pain.

You can’t really see it in this photo, but the reason why I raced down the stairs in slippery socks (and fell HARD) was to get the Amazon package that contained the moss poles to help my BFF climb to new heights.

When we first met (at Trader Joe’s) and fell in love, he whispered to me that a little support would make him happy. Since I love to oblige, it was an easy request to grant, however, this proclivity of mine set the stage for me to become irrevocably injured.

Deep wounds take a long time to heal, but my love for this Giant Monstera will last forever. Pretty soon I’ll need taller poles and more support because he’s growing and thriving under my care.

Love hurts, but isn’t he gorgeous? My monster(a), my soulmate. 

Update on my injury: Stitches came out yesterday (after two weeks) but were replaced by a dozen Steri-strips to help the eight-inch gash finish healing, which it is,  but at a snail's pace, probably because I'm not a very patient patient. I'm a much better caregiver. The recommendation was no strenuous activity for at least two more weeks or it'll open up again and I'll need more stitches and the doc threatened me with an aircast to immobilize my leg. "Threatened" might be a SLIGHT exaggeration, but that's how I interpreted her words...

Forget-Me-Not

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I was at a free expo a couple months ago and grabbled a package of forget-me-not seeds. I tossed them in a planter and forgot about them until today.

This is their first flowering!

Forget-me-nots symbolize true love, fidelity, and respect. It’s also associated with Alzheimer’s disease, and has (weirdly) been adopted as a symbol by the Freemasons.

Germans coined the most common name used for this flower, das Vergissmeinnicht, because of the myth of two lovers who first saw the bright blue flowers as they walked along the Danube River. The man retrieved the flowers for the woman but was swept away by the river. As he floated away, he told her not to forget him.

Whether the story is true or not, it’s certainly made the forget-me-not a lasting symbol of remembrance.

Myosotis sylvatica readily reseeds, so I’m hoping to grow more and more in the garden because the blue is so valiantly BLUE and truly unforgettable.

My Frog Prince 🐸

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If this is a crystal ball vision of 2024, I’m cheerfully apprehensive (or apprehensively cheerful) about what the next twelve months may bring…

Do you remember the Grimm fairytale, The Frog Prince? It’s about a princess who befriends a frog who was really a prince that had been turned into a frog by an evil witch. The princess’s transformative love was the remedy to break the spell.

I’m in the middle of living a real-life version of this story, but I have some basic issues that seem to be obstacles in the way of fulfilling this enchanted experience.

For the last few days, I’ve been hearing a frog croaking in the garden and every time I do, I run outside and try to find him. So far, I’ve been spectacularly unsuccessful.

The croaking seems to emanate from the lower hill that’s covered in a mass of California native plants and I simply can’t locate my frogprince, no matter how hard I try.

Maybe it’s some kind of weird, bizarre twin flame scenario; the more I chase, the more he runs away. Maybe I need to take a deep breath and allow him to come to me. What do you think?

He’s out there right now, beckoning me with his hypnotic, sexy croaking, and I can’t, not for the life of me, track him down.

It’s important to note that this is a highly unusual occurrence; we don’t normally have frogs around this mostly drought-y part of the world and I have heard them so infrequently that I can’t even remember when the last time there WAS a frog around here.

If you could see me running around the garden from one spot to another, you’d have serious doubts about my mental state, and I’d have to nod my head and agree with you.

Why is my prince hiding from me? I am a princess, after all…

While I’m waiting for my frog/prince transformation, here’s what I learned about the spiritual meaning of frogs…

🐸 Frogs symbolize water and land. They help to connect us with the natural world and our intuitive side. They have the power to transform, mature, and renew the soul.

🐸 A frog’s ability to transition from one element to another — depending on its environment — represents change and transformation, rebirth, and evolution.

🐸 Frogs are symbols of new beginnings and creativity because they hatch from eggs and emerge into the world as tiny tadpoles.

🐸 A frog’s spiritual meaning is associated with fertility, good luck, prosperity, money, transformation, new beginnings, love, and the Moon (due to its close connection with water).www.thepeculiarbrunette.com/frog-symbolism-spiritual-meaning/

🐸 Croaking is usually associated with mating and is used by males to attract females, although some frog species croak to mark their territory or indicate their presence. Frogs may also croak because they feel worried or stressed, warning other frogs around them. 

I hope to discover what sort of magic is needed to find and befriend my froggy visitor for our very own happily-ever-after.

If you see me kissing a frog, don’t say a word, OK?

🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸🐸