Saturday, October 1, 2016

It's A Garden Party! - Winding Down


https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-xUMMwSRLBzNqkDj1hoiMMOg61KugUQuJWUBnEG-1_m2wBLd74_9Uz9oADi1UU-hIy8NZoTRYX73-CFzNKv4fMLteW3RirhdKpAiXzQptfFUoj8eb-Uuetdp0XUHg-yY2qoTxmLK0gfA/s1600/P5050138+c.JPG

This feature, originally known as Saturday Farmer's Market, was created by Heather at Capricious Reader, and was then hosted by Chris at Stuff as Dreams are Made on.




If anyone would like to share their own gardening adventures with me
- large or small, inside or out -
I would love to see them.

Just leave a link to your post in the comments.

~
This is one of our new neighbors that has been spending a lot of time in our garden these days.
Don't get me wrong, I like chickens, but these little ones have been tearing the place apart.
Stay tuned.


The yellow Lantana took off quite well this year.


 And the Roses are still doing well.


Gardening season is ending, but planning for next year is just getting started. Happy planning to you all.

The Definition of Gardening
Jim just loves to garden, yes he does.
He likes nothing better than to put on
his little overalls and his straw hat.
He says, "Let's go get those tools, Jim."
But then doubt begins to set in.
He says, "What is a garden, anyway?"
And thoughts about a "modernistic" garden
begin to trouble him, eat away at his resolve.
He stands in the driveway a long time.
"Horticulture is a groping in the dark
into the obscure and unfamiliar,
kneeling before a disinterested secret,
slapping it, punching it like a Chinese puzzle,
birdbrained, babbling gibberish, dig and
destroy, pull out and apply salt,
hoe and spray, before it spreads, burn roots,
where not desired, with gloved hands, poisonous,
the self-sacrifice of it, the self-love,
into the interior, thunderclap, excruciating,
through the nose, the earsplitting necrology
of it, the withering, shriveling,
the handy hose holder and Persian insect powder
and smut fungi, the enemies of the iris,
wireworms are worse than their parents,
there is no way out, flowers as big as heads,
pock-marked, disfigured, blinking insolently
at me, the me who so loves to garden
because it prevents the heaving of the ground
and the untimely death of porch furniture,
and dark, murky days in a large city
and the dream home under a permanent storm
is also a factor to keep in mind."

from: Shroud of the Gnome,Copyright 1997.

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