Garden Time

The deer have finally realized that my garden is not entirely worthless to them, and thus it has become even more important to me. They have scored one flower head and are probably going to try for the others soon, but I'm still contemplating how to carry out my defense. Deer repellent? Attempt to build a very tall wire fence? I'm very  much at a loss...
I'm hoping that sometime soon an answer will just pop into my head (the kind of answer that I could easily put into practice) and I'll be able to fix the deer problem and secure safety for my little plants. But in the meantime, I guess I should just enjoy watching most of my garden grow up and try to protect it as best I can. There are now eight of my ten gladiolas up, all three of my dahlias,both of my lilies (though they are decapitated at the moment) and a lot of nasturtiums and bachelor's buttons. I also bought and planted two osteospermum plants, three gorgeous marigolds, two geraniums, and a little tea rose. I even have a tiny bench composed of two  stumps from the forest and a few planks of wood stretched between them, and on this I will sit and watch my garden in the mornings while I journal and read; it's very handy, and the more time I spend out there the less opportunity the deer have to enter and conquer (though I expect most of  their schemes take place in the dead of night, while they know that I can't fight  back). So I sit and think and hope that my dear little garden will survive, especially the flowers  that I have named, and sometimes I think up little spurts of poetry to write down later. This is one I composed a few days ago on my way home from a picnic with my sister:

Casting Rainbows

 Sweet moment of noon in the blossoming May,

Glad hour of time's blessed rest.

Peace with the sun on the hills where I lie,

Among grasses the wind has caressed.

The iris is raising her chorus of praise,

So satin and purple and dear.

She's touching the sky, though miles away,

Which in dreams may be ever so near.

Wind of the fairies in maple and fir,

Blow silk of the spider about.

Cast rainbows of cobweb in glistening air--

Cast a line for the salmon and trout.

Puffs of white float lazily by

Amid the clatter of branches in dance.

The shadows that leap are nymphs of spring;

Sunshine is their drink spilled by chance.

Travel

I should like to rise and go

Where the golden apples grow; -

Where below another sky

Parrot islands anchored lie,

And, watched by cockatoos and goats,

Lonely Crusoes building boats;-

Where in sunshine reaching out

Eastern cities, miles about,

Are with mosque and minaret

Among sandy gardens set,

And the rich goods from near and far

Hang for sale in the bazaar;-

Where the great wall round China goes,

And on one side the desert blows,

And with bell and voice and drum,

Cities on the other hum;-

Where are forests, hot as fire,

Wide as England, tall as spire,

Full of apes and cocoa-nuts;-

Where the knotty crocodile

Lies and blinks in the nile,

And the red flaming flamingo flies

Hunting fish before his eyes;-

Where in jungles, near and far,

Man-devouring tigers are,

Lying close and giving ear

Lest the hunt be drawing near,

Or a comer-by be seen

Swinging in a palanquin;-

Where among the desert sands

Some deserted city stands,

All its children, sweep and prince,

Grown to manhood ages since,

Not a foot in street or house,

Not a stir of child or mouse,

And when kindly falls the night,

In all the town no spark of light.

There I’ll go when I’m a man

With a camel caravan;

Light a fire in the gloom

Of some dusty dining room;

See the pictures on the walls,

Heroes, fights and festivals;

And in the corner find the toys

Of the olds Egyptian boys.

~Robert Louis Stevenson

Daffodil Gully

It was a very balmy trickle of air that was blowing faintly over the green-tinted fields, and a very cloudy sky that billowed out over the blue and green mountains in the distance. Some of it, the shawl of moisture hanging just above the peaks, was brushed a lovely, pale rose color, fading to light daffodil yellow around the edges. A yellow that really did match the clumped mounds of bright gold flowers decorating the area. Dusting the hills, clinging to the little glades between the oak trees, were butter-yellow lilies, and daffodils graced the lower gully by the wet, wet gurgle at Brook Monday's base. The girl, sitting near a clump of sunny blooms at the bottom of the hill, was a very close friend to Brook Monday. She often wandered along the little banks as she composed short verses of poetry or drew a small sketch, kneeling down occasionally to get a closer look at a sprightly flower-nymph or a budding leaf - there is a certain attitude of fresh uprightness in a new leaf that the girl found very difficult to capture (especially since she wan't much of an artist). But just then she was content to sit by the daffodils, draw one, stare down the road at the cherry tree simply over-flowing with lacy pink loveliness, and write about spring.

To Celebrate Easter

 

 Four little chicks have arrived...

  Our Easter eggs are painted...

My clematis is finally in bloom!

Happy Easter (one day early)!

Little Brother G

Autumnal shirt, navy blue sweater-vest, and light brown shorts make up the outfit. It's very small, but really, a six-month-old baby won't need a very big set of clothes. Of course, we couldn't help but buy tons of adorable little boy things (yes, we finally found out that I will have a little brother, Gavin Curtis, this summer!) and this little fall outfit is my favourite. Probably because autumn is my most cherished season and I practically need the subtle oranges and purples and vibrant shades of apple-red and sunset glow that make an autumn for me. Maybe my little brother Gavin will grow up to love the colours too!

I'm not sure I'm completely content with the fact that there are still several long, long months between me and holding little Gavin, but at least this gives me time to make lots of nice things. You see, there are numerous hats and blankets and such floating around in my head (figuratively) and I am glad that I will have time to knit or sew them up before my brother arrives, even though the time might seem to go slowly. That's okay, the more busy I keep myself the less time I will have to wish it would move along faster, and before I know it, August will be here!

So this post is to celebrate my little brother, Gavin Curtis, and the hope that time won't go too slowly for his overly-excited older sister :-) 

Saturday (there is no other word to describe it)...

There's something about a twilight walk that just makes me tingle (in a good way, to be sure). This evening I couldn't see any stars in the cloudy blackness, but there were one or two smudged glow-lights behind the clouds which at least suggested something akin to stars, and that delicious, balmy wind blowing out over the fields made up for the lack of sparkle. How can I expect many cloudless days in an Oregon March anyway? I can't.
But today wasn't all grey rain and cold air - it was actually very nice outside. I slept in late after an evening out, had a nice morning with my family, went into town with my big sister whose birthday we are celebrating today, and went on a gorgeous walk to my hilltop. There I sat on an old green gate, had a picnic lunch with myself, and read a book ( The Story Girl, by L.M. Montgomery) while curled up behind the shelter of a big row of blackberry bushes. I know, brambles don't seem like a perfectly relaxing spot to rest, but they weren't so bad, and were a nice barrier between me and the wind. I also wrote a letter to myself  ( which I will read again and laugh at sometime in the faraway future) and almost fell asleep in the sweet gold sunshine of the lazy afternoon. But I didn't quite; instead I came home and had another lovely evening with almost all of my family together, here at the house on the hill.

The Snow Garden

You see that small, rock-bordered area a little bit away from the house? I know, you can't see the ground (or the rocks, for that matter) because of all the slick whiteness that is still covering it, but it is there. Under our shrinking layer of snow is a covering of cut hay and dry leaves, and beneath that is a creeping growth of greenery which shouldn't be there, but has stealthily shot up anyway. That's alright, though, I'm okay with a few  weeds until it is time to plant. A myriad of ideas are popping into my head this week as I dream about my little flower garden, and the top items on my list are sorbet peonies, marigolds, primroses, daffodils (next year) and my little potted rose bush. It seems like such a long time until I can help all those bright, colorful blooms into existence, but the time will come - eventually... I can't wait!