July 29, 2012—Minor Accomplishments (accolades welcome . . .)

This week has been as crazy busy as any other, but I feel like I am actually getting things done. Don’t you hate those wheel-spinner days/weeks/months?

I feel like real progress was made in several areas—including the house, garden and shop—but mostly the shop. I have been able to pull together a summer sale, the likes of which I have never had before, at least one new window display (as of the writing of this column) and I was able to do some painting. I finished some small projects and put a few new things on the floor for sale.

The beauty of getting stuff done at the shop is that I will have virtually hundreds of people walk through and notice the changes. Regular customers will comment, “Oh! You’ve changed the window—let me go look again!” New customers will compliment an arrangement or a particular vignette. It’s all very satisfying. Not so much at the house. At the house, if anyone notices a new arrangement or newly hung picture, I am lucky. It is much more likely that someone will ask, a month down the road, “When d’we get that?”

That’s why I find it so funny when I over hear people saying, “Oh, I bet her house is wonderful.” Basing this supposition, naturally, on the attention to detail and display they see in the shop. My response, when they actually make this comment to me, is generally, “Not so much.”

I generally explain that I spend more time at the shop than my house and, when I am at the house, 7 of the approximately 10 hours are spent with my eyes closed. I don’t pay much attention to decorating my house anymore. Of course, the shop not only gets my attention, but also that of my friends/staff that help me; they do not come to my house, neither to arrange displays nor dust. (I’ve asked, they won’t do it.)

There was a time when the house and the décor filling it was all I thought about and did. I was constantly working on projects—whipping-up a couple throw pillows, making curtains, dinner and doing laundry, too; now . . . not so much. If I do have a novel idea for my house, it usually doesn’t happen until the relative season has nearly passed; bunnies arrive in May, patriotic bunting in August, you get the picture.

I guess that’s why, minor successes such as walking the dog AND pruning the Nandina before my chiropractic appointment makes me want to climb on the chicken coop (that I wish I had time to build) and crow!

July 22, 2012—

It’s not the heat . . . it’s the humidity. I think if we’ve learned nothing else in the month of July—this we now know.

I have assumed the “summer-doo.” My stylists advise against it, but I simply cannot run a hair dryer in this heat, nor can I wear my hair down; consequently, I will wear my hair in a damp knot at the base of my neck until the temperatures cool down. By the end of summer, my scalp with likely mildew, as my hair is almost never dry, thanks to the humidity. (Pretty picture, eh?)

Coping with the heat isn’t so bad. I was actually feeling my age with the dry beginning of July thinking it is no wonder so many folks retire to Arizona. The heat without the humidity is bearable. My gardens, however, did not fare so well.

Our dear friend, Travis, was kind enough to tend our home, pool, dogs and cat during our vacation. He intended to water the gardens, as well, then we were hit with the mandatory water restrictions and we knew we would like return to Death Valley. A pretty accurate description of what we found. Travis watered when he was able—based on the schedule established by the City and his work obligations—but the combination of heat and lack of water really took a toll on the lush gardens we left.

I was especially sad, because Mom had spent a great deal of her time here working in the yard. She finds that time—watering, trimming and weeding—therapeutic. She tended to the things I rarely get to do in the garden. She deadheaded the withering blooms, trimmed back my mums to avoid an early bloom and cut-back old growth on some of the more established plants. This freed Darren and I to finish the wine bottle garden, to thin-out the floppy undergrowth of the Crape Myrtles and other chores. The gardens were looking great.

My goal is to get this established so we can mulch it—as it is now,

everything just washes down the hill.

 

As is typically the case when one returns from vacation, I have had so much catching-up to do at the shop, I haven’t had any time for efforts to salvage the plants that remain. I did manage to cut-back the remnants of a beautiful hydrangea, which was already recovering from a lost battle involving high winds and a gas grill. It was a sad day, but I managed to salvage a few dried blooms to display in a vintage sap bucket.

The blooms I was able to salvage. 

I almost prefer dried blooms to the fresh.

 

I am one of those people who hates to cut flowers out of my own garden. I prefer to enjoy them in the garden. Hydrangeas are the perfect bloom for people like me. You can enjoy them on the shrub for an entire season then, as they begin to fade, cut them for drying. I enjoy dried hydrangeas almost as much as the blooms on the bush.

One exception to my “no cutting” rule is my herb garden; those I’ll cut. When I go to gather herbs for cooking, I often return with a handful of herbs for the window sill above the sink. I keep an array of vintage bottles at the ready to serve as vessels for these clippings. I love the purplish blossoms found on our rather prolific oregano. Another favorite is basil—even without the blossoms. Technically, you shouldn’t allow your basil to blossom, as the leaves will taste bitter, but I love the smell and look so I usually let a few blossoms form, then trim back leaving the bottom two sets of leaves. It will renew itself several times throughout the season.

 

I hope the rest of our summer is a little more temperate, but I will attempt to grin and bear it regardless, because we are so fortunate to enjoy all four seasons here in Middle Tennessee. In the meantime, I think I’ll call Mom and offer an opportunity to come enjoy more therapy.