The first weekend of May has been blustery, cold, and wet: not exactly inspiring weather. Still, I managed to get a few things planted – in pots. I planted potted plants because I could do it inside. What a wimp.
These hangers are my concession to annuals. The pots are too small to encourage perennials (4″ pots), and so every year I have to find some small hanging basket type annuals to stuff into them.
The petunias are a shout back to a woman who was pretty much my second mother when I was growing up, whether or not she wanted to be. Mrs. T. always had petunias growing in the long planter in the front of her house. This year, I decided I would plant petunias in honor of Mrs. T. The alyssum in the middle is just because I like alyssum.
This finally opened up (after my last post, obviously). I stepped out the back door on Saturday and was greeted by this fiery orange Oriental poppy. COOL.
Isn’t it gorgeous?? It has several other buds swelling. I hope to let it go to seed at some point and (hopefully) have many, many more such beauties in my garden in the years to come.
I also managed to fit in a trip to the local thrift store with a friend. I scored a few things (as usual).
I found two bud vases. Well, one is a real vase & the other is a tiny little tea cup for a cheap child’s tea set (I guess).
The one on the left has: hawthorne, luminaria, columbine.
The one on the right has – oh shoot! Don’t you hate it when you forget what that is? It’s OK – I still have the plastic stake in the ground by it so if I was serious about identifying it for you, I could go down the stairs, out the door, into the cold rain, and look it up. I’m not serious. Variegated something that is evergreen, grows like a ground cover and a shrub. It’s pretty. The point is: I have a tiny vase for short flowers.
I still have Fish Woman. She makes an excellent bud vase. The golden alyssum makes the perfect flower to surround her.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
I did find other things, but they’re itemized over on my art blog. Yeah, that blog. The one I rarely write on. The one I should be serious about.
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