I don’t know if Gallum would think of this low growing greenery with the tiny white flowers as being precious. I’m actually not sure if I consider it precious, but I thought it would make for a clever title.
I planted this beneath what is normally identified as an out-of-control and invasive shrub which I believe to be a Japanese Honeysuckle though I’ve been experimenting in transforming it ever since it sprung into existence several years back into that of a miniature ornamental tree. However, I digress.
Galium was identified as a plant that could make a good addition at the base of trees and shrubs. I have further just read its sweet vanilla-scented flower clusters are used to flavor May wines in Germany. Hmmmm.
I haven’t smelled it yet. Though I planted it last spring it had no blooms until this year. I guess I’ll have to go out and take a sniff. I wonder if I could toss some blooms in with my coffee grounds to get vanilla coffee?
It’s the first time in the second season I’ve had Forget-Me-Nots return as a larger cluster than they were the previous year (normally they dwindle and/or peter out). I think I finally found a good spot in my garden, even as this blue blossomed beauty now extends beyond the outside perimeter of the garden boundary line. Instead of restricting this beautiful expanding cluster to the original planned boundaries, I have expanded the boundaries to embolden its extended reach.
I never knew. I never knew until this weekend at the nursery. A nursery of the lawn and garden variety. I never knew that Columbine, before it was a headline of tragedy whose anniversary just passed, is actually the name of a beautiful flower.
So I sent out a little prayerful thought for those family and friends who mourn the losses of their loved ones on that dark day in history, and then I picked up a couple flowers, which will now be a reminder each year of the precious gift called life.
Always before, I was with my children. Amazing as those times were, I was busy being a parent. And I didn’t have a camera.
I gave myself a personal day to play, paint brush in one hand and camera in the other. I pondered posting of this magnificent, somewhat hidden treasure. But then I realized I don’t have a big enough following to worry about what I like to think of as a secret in the city. City Museum, St. Louis, MO. They craft and make with donated items, re-purposing at the very core in oh so cool ways.
Anyway, a couple weeks ago I got word that they were repainting rollers they re-purposed to the likes of spindles along stairway and balcony railings. Art Deco painting. Yeah, baby! And they were opening it to the public, via paid general admission, during an announced date and time. Yes! Yes! Yes! However, being the responsible adult I generally am, duty called and the moment was lost. The first time for them to be repainted in 20 years. So when I heard there was to be another session, I informed my client I would not be working that day, no matter what. I am soooooo glad I took my camera. (If you haven’t guessed, there are some pictures.) The rollers got me there, but then……
Did I mention the caves and 10-story high slides, and constructs of wire and other mediums forming human habitrails throughout? Yes, any time you see a big spiraling wire structure, people are able to travel through such, sometimes several stories above ground.
I didn’t even go to the outdoor MonstroCity, though you can see snippets of such through a couple windows. Next time.
But until then, I hope you enjoy the pictures. (Categories: The Rollers, Wired Up, Caves, Eclectic Assortment)
(Click on images to enlarge)
There is a field to the side of the road near my work destination that I knew would look way-cool this morning. I actually went a slightly different route, just for that reason, as I wanted to take some pictures. Unfortunately, due to the weather conditions, pulling off on the side of the road screamed of an accident waiting to happen and the only other way to get a vantage point was restricted, as I didn’t have a hard hat with me. (Yes, I actually have safety glasses in my car. I have a hard-hat, too, but alas, it was at home.)
I did find a little spot with a few trees that had to suffice.
In the Fall of 2003 I bought my house where a small stick less than a foot high stuck out of the front yard. I was told it was an oak tree. (See the red arrow and red circle next to the garbage cans in the picture below? Yeah, I know you can’t see the stick, but that’s where it is.)
And the following summer, it remained a tiny stick, though it sprouted 3-4 leaves for the season. (If you look really hard, you can see it where the second arrow points.)
One of my neighbors, for the next several years would laugh at my stick.
Then one year, my little oak tree shot off like a rocket. Each year growing taller, and its branches broadly reaching outward. It started keeping its leaves through the winter, changing from green straight to brown. I’ve had beautiful bowed branches in the winter under the weight of snow.
Even in small dustings.
It always bypassed the beautiful colors of autumn. And I was always a little bit sad about that.
This year’s autumn, however, produced a new layer of beauty. Not vibrant red or golden yellow or fiery orange. No. But a beauty that reminds me of ones’ life journey, worn with aging through the challenges met yet the warm glow of life coursing through the veins.
I love my little oak tree.