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January is the traditional time for making resolutions to be better, smarter, healthier……whatever your current goals are. It is, in short, time to turn over a new leaf, to leave (happily) last year behind and enjoy a fresh start in the New Year.

Nature, too, seems to be turning over a few new leaves, though you have to look closely to find them. I’m always amazed but gratified to see new growth on plants even in January. These are the “front line workers,” ready to brave cold and dreary conditions to bring early bloom to a weary world.

Most of these plants aren’t actually blooming yet but are getting ready for the late winter show by putting out new leaves. The small English primrose (distant kin to the garish, neon-colored primroses found in garden centers) is establishing a healthy mound of crinkly light green leaves, even though the first yellow blossoms won’t come for another six to eight weeks.

Forget-me-not, too, is looking robust these days as it plumps and preens and takes advantage of any unoccupied space. In March, sky blue flowers will curl up like a scorpion’s tail to unfurl and bloom, one tiny blossom at a time.

Of course among the very earliest bloomers are the Lenten roses, the Hellebore species whose most vigorous growth and spectacular bloom occurs at the end of January. Often, these whitish green or purplish pink blossoms are the only bright color in the garden. Reveling in their lack of competition, they bloom profusely for several months until the rest of the garden seems to catch up.

And of course weeds such as chickweed, dandelion and wild onions are taking advantage of the basically bare playing field to fill in and spread while the spreading is good.

I love the new leaves of nature and I love looking for them right now, when finding a single new leaf is a cause for celebration. In the middle of spring, when plants burst forth in a joyful parade of abundance, it’s a little more difficult to appreciate a single leaf.

So, my “new leaf”, my resolve, is to take time and appreciate each moment and to live my life in gratitude for every leaf, every flower, every living thing and for every breath to be a hallelujah.

Jack and I love to entertain, particularly during the holidays. For reasons too obvious to even mention, we knew that this year was going to look different and of course, it did. We began preparing early and in the fall, purchased two outdoor heaters and a fire pit, all of which were put to very good use during the past month.

Though we usually host a large gathering of old friends at Christmas, this wasn’t the year to do that so instead, we had couples over one at a time to sit on the front porch and share a meal. For safety – and culinary – reasons, we generally picked up food from a local restaurant and I set up the porch so that each couple had their own little world.

With separate seating areas and heaters, we could comfortably sit 6 or 8 feet away from one another, close enough for conversation but distanced enough for safety. I have to say that even though I love a crowd, I may love the intimacy of entertaining just another couple even more. Conversations were deeper, longer and more meaningful and I came away from the season knowing and loving my friends even better.

The firepit proved to be the perfect focal point for some raucous family gatherings. One cold night, all the kids and grandkids came over and we built a large fire, put a grill over it and cooked sausages and hot dogs. I made baked beans (from scratch), cole slaw and chocolate chip cookies and everyone agreed that it was a spectacular family gathering.

Last night my sister traveled down from Blue Ridge so we could (finally) celebrate Christmas together and of course, we were on the front porch. As we sat, far into the night sipping wine by candle light and sharing memories, I thought, why would anyone want to be inside? We were toasty warm with our own personal heaters, wrapped up in fuzzy blankets and warm socks. A year ago, it never would have occurred to me to eat outside on a chilly, damp December night. But this year? We were wrapped in this silver lining, grateful for our health and our love for one another.

I hope that the New Year brings you good health, happiness and lots of time outdoors!

Laura

In the middle of November, I purchased some of those oh-so-popular amaryllis boxes that include potting material, a bulb and a pot. I thought it would be fun for the kids to plant to give to their mothers at Christmas time.

But, when my granddaughter, Rowan, and I opened one of the boxes and unwrapped the bulb, it had already tried to sprout. Unfortunately, the wrapping had kept it curled onto itself. If there ever was a plant in the fetal position, this was it.

I have to admit, it looked kind of deformed and sickly as it was almost completely white. I almost suggested that we just compost it and go get another but then I thought, oh why not. This little guy seemed determined to grow. Let’s just see what happens so with a wish and a prayer, we potted up the poor little thing, give it a drink and set it in the sunshine.

Rowan and I decided that I should keep the bulbs at my house so as to surprise her Mom at Christmas. I also thought, to myself, and when this baby dies, I can just toss it. But, I didn’t say that to Rowan.

That was on November 20. TWO days later, the stem was beginning to straighten and turn green. And, on November 23, a mere 3 days after planting, the stem was almost entirely straight. I was excited and couldn’t wait to share this miracle with Rowan.

By December 3, we had a nice fat bud and by Dec. 11th, only three weeks after planting, it was in full bloom. It generally takes an amaryllis bulb 6 – 8 weeks to bloom after being planted.

You may not be as in awe of this entire process as Rowan and I were but you’ll have to admit that there is something completely miraculous about any living thing wanting to grow and bloom so badly that it bursts the binds that hold it back. All that this little bulb wanted was a chance to grow.

As we end this year, I can’t help but think that this bulb is a great illustration of where we’ve been and where we’re going. 2020 has been hard, but give us a new start, a little water and sunshine in 2021 and WATCH US BLOOM.

Merry Christmas to you all and have a blooming good New Year!!!!

All my grandchildren are quite accustomed to my dragging out craft supplies and setting them to work on a project. The adult people in my family, not so much. So, on the day after Thanksgiving when we were all together and I pulled out paints for a project for ALL of us to do, there were some raised eyebrows and I’m sure a few rolled eyes.

Fortunately, the weather was balmy so we were able to spread out on the screened porch and keep plenty of distance between various family pods. I had purchased 10 small plain wooden cut out ornaments and thought that they would be fun to paint.

Instead of painting one for ourselves, though, I thought it would be fun for each of us to put our name in a hat and draw names to paint for someone else. It worked great!!! The youngest (Braxton) got to choose first and was so delighted with his choice he clapped his hands and got right to work.

Jack, the oldest, chose last and was a wee bit slower picking up the paintbrush and deciding on colors. But, amazingly enough soon everyone – adults and children alike – were all under the spell of the paintbrush.

It was fun to see different personalities come out. Andy spent a great deal of time making sure that his ornament was perfectly symmetrical. Cameron painted both sides of hers with brilliant, passionate precision and was done first. Of course.

Ellie kept glancing over at me and smiling so I wasn’t surprised to find out that she had chosen my name. We ended up doing ours alike – I painted a red truck for “Papa” Jack and she painted one for me.

All in all in was one of my more successful family craft ventures. Not only did we enjoy it for the hour (plus or minus) that we spent painting, but we now each have an ornament to hang on our tree every year, reminding us of that day in 2020 when we stood apart and came together to paint for each other.

Last April I planted morning glory seeds at the street, carefully preparing the soil. My vision was of the mailbox covered with blue flowers that would delight early morning walkers and cause people to stop and admire each sky blue blossom.

Ha. Instead, I had massive vines with giant leaves and twirling stems so vigorous they reached out like tentacles, probably scaring every child that walked up the street. And, not a single bloom. Not one!!

By midsummer with the Godzilla vine in full force, I began wondering what in the world was going on and began researching. The information was vague. The best that I could determine was that morning glory needs poor soils and dry conditions, so all that compost and organic fertilizer that I poured into the ground before seeding and the more-than-ample rains we received all summer resulted in great growth – and no bloom.

By early August, I was tired of looking for blossoms so I ripped out most of the vine, leaving just enough to soften the metal pole of the mailbox. Two weeks later, you could barely tell I had removed anything. By this point, I had given up and just tried to keep the vines clipped back so my gardener- mail carrier could find the mailbox.

But guess what, a week ago – at the end of NOVEMBER, I walked out to find three beautiful sky blue flowers beginning to open. It was around noon but because of the short day hours and maybe because of the cool temperatures, it was a little late getting up in the morning, to say nothing of being really late getting up in the season. Why now? My guess is that the fertilizer had finally begun to leach out of the soil and that it finally dried out a bit.

Every few days, I would get a few blossoms, which I cherished. Until two nights ago when Atlanta got its first hard freeze and then – poof! Overnight the vine froze, the leaves turned dark and my morning glory dropped to the frozen ground.

So, in eight months I got a handful of blossoms. As much as I love flowers, I’m not sure that it was worth it. Although I have to admit that when it finally did bloom, I thought “morning glory” what an entirely appropriate name!

I am passionate about making bread and, in my lifetime, must have made hundreds if not thousands of loaves. Lest you think I’m exaggerating, I’ve made two loaves of bread on the average of once a week for the last 45 years. You can do the math. That’s a lot of bread.

I’ll admit that I don’t always knead it by hand, though that’s my clear preference. But, when time is short and I have other projects going on, I’ll let the KitchenAid mixmaster do the kneading for me. I have never used a bread machine and though I’ve heard they’re excellent, I probably never will.

I’m not sure what attracted me to bread making in the beginning. I think it’s probably whatever keeps me enthralled 45 years later. I love the connection that I feel with bakers throughout the ages. It’s such an incredibly ancient craft that it makes me feel that I’m a link in a chain that has been unbroken for 10,000 years.

The first bread was said to have been made by Egyptians in 8000 BC. They used a grinding tool called a quern to crush the wheat into flour to be made into a bread somewhat like today’s tortilla.

The magic of bread comes from the wheat, of course. And though I’ve considered growing my own wheat and grinding it into flour, that seems as if it would be a bit time consuming. Instead, I use the best flour I can find. There are very few ingredients in basic bread (flour, water, yeast and salt), but they are all absolutely essential. Once I made two beautiful loaves of whole wheat sandwich bread and then realized that I’d forgotten the salt. My grandson, Rivers, with his 13 year old faith in grandma, assured me that they would taste the same. After one bite, he pushed it away and told me next time, REMEMBER the salt.

Speaking of the grandkids, I’m afraid they may be just a tiny bit spoiled. They are avid cheese toast eaters, but only if the bread is home made. Otherwise, they politely decline. I point out that they eat store bought bread at home but they just say, “yes, but not here.”

I love the way bread dough feels. If it’s done just right, it is springy but not sticky, it is pliable without being too stretchy and it smells divine.

Though I make several different kinds of bread from Black Russian to Sally Lunn, I usually end up making a whole wheat sandwich bread. After all, I have all those cheese toasts to make! After this strange and challenging year, we still have much to be thankful for, including our daily bread.

Happy Thanksgiving to you all. I hope that it is a safe and joyous holiday for you and your families.

Friday afternoons have turned into my favorite time of the week. This is the time that I get to spend with two of my younger grandchildren, Rowan (9) and Braxton (7). Jack picks them up from school and brings them to our house where we do “projects.”

While I work with one of the kids on the piano, the other kid takes Jack in hand and they do an activity. Part of my joy in all this is seeing Jack expanding his list of interests to include projects, though I know full well that his interest is really in being with his grandchildren.

When the piano lesson is over, we switch kids and do it all over again.

Last week, having run out of paint and glue, I decided that our weekly project should be gardening. I purchased two small planter boxes, potting soil, pansies and snapdragons and wrote out full instructions.

They had a blast. The kids were really into it and followed the instructions precisely and even Jack got his hands in the dirt.

I know that the plants would, at best, only put out 2 or 3 inches of roots throughout the season, so instead of trying to fill the entire box with potting soil, I used a “spacer” to take up room. After considering and discarding many ideas (bricks were too heavy, plastic peanuts were too messy and I didn’t have any plastic containers that I wanted to throw away) I came up with the idea of using an empty wine bottle. After the stress of election week, we had plenty of those around!

The kids put rocks in the bottom of the container for better drainage, then placed the wine bottle sideways and covered it with top soil (cheap!) placed their plants of choice on top of this, then filled in and around the plants with organic, moisture retentive potting soil (NOT cheap, but totally worth it).

The results were magnificent and hopefully they’ll remember to water so that the planter boxes will look good throughout the winter and will bloom profusely in spring.

But of course the end product was not the point of the afternoon. Instead, it was the joy of spending time with these precious children and my absolute delight in seeing Jack with dirt under his fingernails!!!

It’s almost November and change is definitely in the air! It’s time for a changing of the guard. Out with the old and in with the new.

Of course the basic structure of my garden will remain the same, the backbone and foundation on which it was founded. I have great respect and appreciation for these unchanging parts of my garden and work hard to keep them healthy.

But to keep all the garden looking good and thriving, it’s necessary to make some periodic changes. Generally, it’s a seasonal task and frankly, removing the old, spent, decaying plants and putting in something new, fresh and exciting is one of my favorite gardening chores. So, over the weekend, I pulled up all of my summer annuals, primarily rows of white pentas and verbenas and pots of begonias. I chopped down the okra tree and pulled up the last remaining tomatoes, all to make room for something new.

It’s always difficult to determine what to replace the old plants with because there are so many choices. Everyone has favorite plants they want to include in the garden. My vote is always for plants that are dependable and pleasing and ones that get the job done.

This year, like almost every other fall, I’ve planted dozens of pansies. I know quite well that they will not put on much of a show until spring but when I plant in fall, it’s with an eye toward the future. Planting in fall, rather than waiting for spring, allows them to put down roots and settle in before they are asked to perform.

In addition to the pansies, I also planted quite a few snapdragons and parsley. In the small area that I fenced in to keep the squirrels out, I put in lettuce, Swiss chard and kale.

I already have a lot of perennials so I only put in a few new and unusual things. I’ve always wanted to try tickseed sunflower, Bidens aristosa, and this seemed the perfect year to do that.

I love all seasons in the garden. And, I love all plants. But for the health, beauty and longevity of the garden, I know that change is good and now seems a good time to make those changes.

I was going through my closet yesterday, pushing warm weather cloths to the back to make room for the clothes I will (hopefully) need for late fall and winter. But it all made me think of the many plants that are named for clothing and accessories. So, here’s my “Botanical Closet.” Be sure to scroll down to see the full drawing.

The botanical closet is fairly well organized with (Indian) blankets, (shepherd’s) purses, (blue) bonnets and (Mexican) hats on the top shelves, though unfortunately, I do have a few moth (mulleins).

I keep my jewelry – jewel (weed), silver (weed) , (mari) gold and jade (plant) next to my (Venus) looking glass, which was also a logical place to put my lipstick (vine) and (cock’s) comb.

I have hooks for my (Joseph’s) coat, (monk’s) hood and (Dutchman’s) breeches and of course a special place for my umbrella (plant.). As I was cleaning up, I did happen to see a spider (wort) in the corner. Ugh.

My shoes, (lady’s) slippers, (fairy) slippers and moccasin (flowers) are below my more personal items, such as my (cow) slip and (lady’s) smock. And, for sentimental reasons, I’ve held on to my bride’s bonnet.

The floor of the closet is basically storage for all my box (woods). It’s a little dusty (miller) and yikes! I saw droppings from a mouse (eared chickweed.)!!!

In spite of the moths, mice, dust and spiders, it’s still probably more organized and a lot more colorful than my real closet!

Hope you enjoyed.

Laura

With masks being THE accessory of the season and pumpkins being the most popular seasonal fruit, I decided to combine the two and create a trio of masked pumpkins.

Instead of the more traditional scary faces, I chose to decorate my pumpkins with masks like those worn at a traditional Venetian masked ball.

I now fully appreciate a four year old’s passion for glitter. Armed with paint and glitter, ribbon, fake gems and jewels, and gold netting, I had a blast. Even though I love orange pumpkins, my color scheme lent itself better to the relatively new “ghost” or white pumpkins. And, being a painter instead of sculptor and much more comfortable with a brush than a knife, I painted my pumpkins instead of carving them.

Carving or decorating pumpkins at Halloween dates back centuries to Ireland and the myth of “Stingy Jack” (absolutely NO relation to my husband, Jack, in spite of his reputation for frugality). Stingy Jack was such a scoundrel that when he died, God wouldn’t let him into heaven but instead sent him into the dark night with only a small piece of burning coal to light his way. Jack put this into a hollowed out turnip and according to legend, one could see Jack wandering through the darkness carrying his “lantern.” Soon he became known as Jack of the lantern, then Jack O’lantern.

On the eve of All Saint’s Day (November 1) the Irish put a light into a carved turnip or potato and walked through the villages, remembering Stingy Jack. When Irish immigrants came to America, they brought this tradition with them but found that the native American pumpkins were much more suitable for this purpose than the smaller turnips.

I’ll admit that my fancy masked pumpkins bear only the very slightest resemblance to a hollowed out turnip with a lump of coal, but I had a lot of fun doing it. If you, too, want to spend a week painting and glittering and gluing, go for it. It’s cheaper than therapy.