Create a Fall Accent

originally published in The Leaf Chronicle Nov 10, 2013.

Okay, I admit it—it’s true. I still have Halloween decorations up. (Of course, it’s only one week gone and I’ve been known to find Christmas ornaments 9 months into the new year!) Is it me, or did that holiday just blow by? (I’m punny.*)

As I walked through the house yesterday afternoon, I thought about how bare the place will look without my Halloween accents. I am especially reluctant to pack away a new wall plaque which I have hanging on the door in my kitchen, which leads to the patio. When I took the dog outside for his evening constitutional, I saw the remnants of an arrangement I once had hanging in the house; it was sadly ruined in our house fire, but I couldn’t bear to throw it away. I hung it outside where it has slowly deteriorated, leaving only a form and vase, which I use for a fresh flower accent outside. That’s when I had the idea to recreate that arrangement and share the process with you.

Here’s what you will need:

A quart-size jar

Chicken wire, 2 feet square

Wire cutters

Floral foam

Hot glue gun

Ribbon

Spanish moss

Flowers and accents

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1. Cut the chicken wire to size. Roll it into a cone shape; cinch the cone about six inches from the base. Fold the sharp ends of the wire into the cone. Roll the top edge of the cone down two- three times.

 

2. Use the ribbon to wrap the top edge, lacing through the chicken wire. Add a length of ribbon from which to hang the arrangement. Tie the ribbon at the ten- and two-o’clock position on the top edge of the cone (as if you were holding a steering wheel).

3. Add a liberal amount of Spanish moss to the inside of the cone. Press the moss against the bottom and sides of the cone, where the jar will eventually rest.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Cut a piece of floral foam that will fit in the opening of your jar, but is only 2/3 the height of the jar. Using glue gun, drop some glue to the bottom of the jar, followed by the prepared piece of foam. Allow to set, start adding smaller slices/wedges of foam to fill the voids; securing with drops of hot glue if possible.

 

 

5. Start adding your flowers and accents. I used dried hydrangeas, along with faux floral accents to include oaks leaves with acorns, pods and sticks. Once you are satisfied with your arrangement, carefully set it in the cone, arranging the moss to disguise the jar.

6. Finish by adding a knot of ribbon around the cinched base of the cone.

Now you have a beautiful arrangement to enjoy for years to come . . . as long as you don’t have a house fire. PSA: I hope you checked your batteries in your smoke detectors last weekend, if not, do it now. They save lives, homes and flower arrangements!

*we had tornado warnings on Halloween . . . get it?  “blow by?”

PPRP not for wimps

This is the column I wrote for The Leaf Chronicle which originally published on Sep 29, 2013.

I have no idea what came over me, but earlier this week I started cutting, pulling and digging in my front flower beds. I thought I’d take advantage of the rain we had recently had, by pulling weeds. (By the way—how long did it take me to figure out that it is easier to pull weeds after a good rain?) Then, next thing I knew, I had the wheelbarrow out, loading it with transplants, as well as several loads of an unidentified, but very prolific tall, leafy perennial—bound for the dump.

If memory serves, I actually ordered that plant when we first moved to Dog Hill. I love tall plants in my garden and the description for this beast must have fit the bill. Well, about 10 years later, having completely forgotten its name, transplanted it and given it away (sounding familiar), I have decided—it’s got to go. Now is the time of year it produces its tiny white, dandelion puff-like flowers, so I had to act quickly.

before

I grabbed the shovel and started digging down to remove the root and all. Hours later—with a few other plants entered into our PPRP (Paige’s Perennial Relocation Program)—I think I’ve got them down to a few single-stems located throughout our yard, as well as our neighbors.

And now, a word about qualifying for PPRP. This isn’t a program suited for all perennials. No—PRP is for survivors. To be selected for PRP, you must have a growth rate which requires a slide rule for tracking. Other qualifications include: the ability to survive with minimal attention/pruning/grooming; the ability to look fairly decent for at least a few weeks out of the year (thus justifying the effort the caretaker will put into moving you); and finally, you must grab hold of your new soil with very little encouragement from your caretaker.

You see, by the time I’ve decided to relocate or just divide a perennial, my sparkler of enthusiasm for gardening is starting to fizzle. I’m not sure why, but it’s usually the last thing I do before I quit for the day; I’m exhausted, sweaty and itchy. So, the last thing I want to do it dig a hole, loosen the soil and water a plant I am, at this point, wondering why I ever planted. At best, I will remove approximately three inches of the soil (which is usually mostly mulch), drop the plant into the shallow crevice and head for the shower with nary a backwards glance.

after

Believe me when I tell you, however, you would be surprised at the hardiness of those plants which have survived the rigors of the PPRP; many of which have been the subject of previous diatribes—namely, Lamb’s Ear and Asters. Sunday’s victim, however, was relocated to the dump pile. Perhaps it was because we’re not on a first name basis; perhaps it was the audacity it demonstrated by jumping into pots and across the yard into other gardens; perhaps it is the fact that I know—even though I think I pulled it all up—fluffy, little, white seeds are currently waiting for spring to pop-up and declare their survivor status.

Writer’s notes:  Yesterday, a friend at church told me she knew what the plant in question is actually a weed!  She has done battle with it in her own garden and was so frustrated by it, her husband took a sample to our local university for identification.  They told her it is a Mulberry weed.  I googled it today and she is right on the money!  Here’s a blog I found about it.

Strong Backs and My Weak Mind

This is my column for The Leaf Chronicle which was originally published Sep 22, 2013.

Time to write the column.

Don’t worry; this will not be another scary dive into my not-to-sub-conscience. Yet, I do feel I need to acknowledge all of the emails, Tweets and face-to-face commentary from my numerous kindred spirits. It is wonderful to know I am in such great company, especially when it comes to my occasional struggles with focus. I am glad you enjoyed last week’s column.

This past week I have been all about fall decorating. The shop has commanded most of my attention, but I’ve made a few changes around the house, as well. We are in the process of a few house repairs and improvements, which have my mind and time somewhat preoccupied.

About a month ago, I wrote about the fact that we—by “we” I mean “my husband”—wanted to extend our patio walkway down the side of our house so it would link to our front porch. I was not very keen on this idea, but I decided that I could at least appear to give his idea some thought before I squashed it like the ground under a cherry picker.

Which brings me to the reason there is a new walkway in our side yard—the ground which was squashed under a cherry picker. Oops, I mean, “man lift;” and while we’re on that, why “man lift?” Shouldn’t it be “person lift?” Okay—squashed ground—the area where we installed this new walkway was the site of a gazillion ton person lift making 20-point adjustment turns for two weeks. The lawn in that area suffered considerably; not that it ever produced the thickest, most durable grass. So I decided that the new pathway might be a good idea after all.

Enter the young, healthy backs of the guys we hired to relocate the dirt and lay the new walkway. They arrived eager and ready to get the job done. Three days later, when they are still trying to break through the gravel and occasional outcropping of concrete, they seemed a little less eager and frankly, a little deflated. It appears that the area we had chosen for our walkway extension was exactly where a gravel driveway had once been located.

This is when it comes to me . . . that herb garden I planted the first year we moved into our house is located along the same path and I now recall the difficulty I had digging the bed for that garden. (In my defense, I can’t remember why I walked into the pantry instead of the laundry room this morning either.) My only explanation is one akin to child birth; no new projects would be tackled in our old house if we were actually able to recall how difficult the last one was.

Of course, my husband is the guy who laid the rest of our pathway and patio, not me. Perhaps he did not-so-sub-consciously recall encountering the gravel, which is why he suggested that I engage a contractor to do this portion of the walkway. Hmm.

Anyhoo, this is where I eat my words and admit, though I begrudgingly gave into the idea of the pathway extension, I l-o-v-e it; or rather will, l-o-v-e it, when I can plant around it. My husband is still working on painting on this side of our house and there is no point in planting a bunch of flowers to be crushed by ladders and size 11.5 work boots.

In the meantime, I will use strategically placed potted ferns and mums (see how I pulled it back around to fall decorating?) to distract my eyes from the bare ground.

The first day of September—color me happy!

My column for The Leaf Chronicle, originally published Sep 1, 2013.

My love/hate relationship with our Mulberry tree continues—having just gotten over the black flies and berries, we are now dealing with the falling leaves (which will continue until February). The gardens are a mess—weeds are rampant in the flower bed and the perennials are getting leggy. The lack of rain has wreaked havoc on the gardens and yard; yet I am crazy about this time of year!

Our “above ground pond” is closed for the season, so that is one less thing to worry about. Pretty soon we will be able to open the windows and enjoy the fresh air. Soon, mums and pumpkins will adorn front porches all over Clarksville. Yep—soon it’ll be fall y’all!

In typical fashion, however, I am loathe to push the seasons. Owning a retail shop makes me hyper aware of the changing seasons. You will note that most retailers already have their Halloween décor on the shelves—fall colors, in the form of faux leaves and pumpkins, having been added in July. I have always pushed back at the suggestion that I need to do the same thing at my shop, but I have had to succumb ever so slightly.

I think that, by August, everyone has had enough “summer” and most consider the start of the school year the start of the fall season; however, the warm weather will stick around for a while, so let’s conjure some ideas for making a transition.

This is the perfect time to cleanse the decorating palette. I like to move into neutral tones before I introduce the rich colors of the harvest season. The neutral items will then provide a great base for the future riot of orange, gold and red.

Here’s how I will start. I have a tobacco basket on the front of my house—where I often hang my wreaths. I put it up last fall and decided to use it as the “base” for all of our entryway décor since then. Until recently, a swag of herbs with a garden trowel and bird’s nest was hanging there, now it is the backdrop for an armful of dried oats, gathered together with a knot of burlap. In a few weeks, I will add a pennant banner to hail the harvest season (I’ll be sharing tips on how to make your own next week). For now, the neutral oats will set the tone—then I will add pops of color and seasonal references.

Dried flowers and grasses are a great way to make changes in the house, without pulling out the pumpkins and gourds just yet. Hydrangeas are my favorite dried flowers and my friend, Ruta, just gave me tips for the best way to dry them. If you have a bush with blooms you are still enjoying, now would be a great time to cut a bunch and bring them inside to dry. (If you don’t have your own hydrangea bush, wait until it is dark and sneak into your neighbor’s yard to cut his.) Don’t harvest new blooms—choose the blooms that are already starting to feel papery. Cut a good length of stem and remove all leaves. Then place the blooms in a vase that is filled to about 1/3 full. Add your blooms—don’t overcrowd—then enjoy them until the water evaporates. You should then have beautiful dried blooms. Keep them out of direct sunlight during the drying process and afterward.

Tobacco Barns and Porch Decor

Sep 30, 2012

This past weekend marked the arrival of my favorite time of year. I am a fall fan for sure and have been enjoying everything I possibly can about preparing for this time of year.

A few weeks ago I went in search of something new to use for my front porch décor at the house. While on the hunt, I came across a bunch of tobacco baskets and knew instantly I would use one as the anchor for my new display.

One of my favorite harbingers of this season is when the barns used for smoking tobacco start emitting their seasonal scents. I am sure there are many non-natives who have a story about seeing a smoking barn and wondering if they should dial 9-1-1. I know I took pause when I first saw one; a quick call to a “local” allayed my fears.

Smoking season is here again and I adore scent that fills the air. In fact, my favorite scented candle is called Bergamot Tobacco, which sounds a little off-putting if you are not familiar with the intoxicating scent of tobacco being smoked in preparation for sale.

After procuring several of these baskets, I became a little more curious about the process, so I called a friend, Anne Head, whose family has been in the tobacco business for many years; she gave me the low down. After harvesting the tobacco, leaf-by-leaf, farmers then tie the leaves together in bunches, hang them from sticks and place the filled sticks in the tiers of the tobacco barn. The farmers then commence to smoking/curing the tobacco to achieve the golden brown color. Tobacco baskets are no longer used, but would have been—at this point—loaded with the smoked leaves and taken to market.

As they are no longer employed for their intended use, folks have been finding alternative uses for them since the late 70s. I, naturally, look at them for their decorative qualities. They are attractive works of basketry art in and of themselves, but it is rare that I can leave a surface unadorned.

I immediately thought of my antique pitch fork, which I found on one of my flea marketing excursions in Germany, as the perfect accent for my developing fall front porch display. Unfortunately, it was one of those tools/toys my son found irresistible as he was reenacting the mob scene from Beauty and the Beast or later, the battle scene at the end of Braveheart; which is likely why I found it in pieces on a hill in our backyard. Plan B—find another pitch fork.

Another fall arrangement I’ve fallen in love with is one that Patty Stinnett encouraged me to try. She found our inspirational picture on Pinterest (yup—I’m talking about Pinterest again); it involved turning a vintage floor lamp into a planter. As I have entirely too many dysfunctional vintage floor lamps—I decided to try this project.

I used a floor lamp that had a place for a center bulb and three arms for additional lights. I then altered a hanging wire basket so it would slide down and rest on the arms. I used a coconut shell liner and then added my plants. The inspiration picture showed the planter filled with gorgeous succulents, but I was using my planters to decorate for a fall themed function, so I used mums with ornamental kales and cabbages. I also added an aqua-colored canning jar in the center in order to add candlelight to my floor lamp planter. I used plastic tie-wraps to secure the baskets to the arms of the lamp. They are a little tippy, so I don’t think this is something I would recommend this project for a house full of little ones or frisky pets. I will, however, be adding one of these to the display on my front porch. Once again I am sorry I don’t have a picture of the finished product, but I promise to add it to the blog.

I hope you are enjoying the smell of tobacco smoke, the sight of mums popping-up everywhere and, of course, the cooler temperatures. I’ll have a few more ideas to share next week.

chicken condos

Sep 9, 2012

I am not sure how closely you follow the goings on at our City Council meetings, but I just heard that the new ordinance (ord 6-2012-13) permitting Clarksville residents to have chickens (only 6) in their backyard just passed its second reading. Way cool!

I’ve always thought it would be interesting to have a few chickens. I am especially fascinated by Ameraucana and Cochin varieties. The Ameraucana lays lovely eggs and the Cochin is just lovely—looking almost regal with its feathered legs. The thing I love most about the prospect of raising chickens, however, is building one of those coops that appear as though you’d host your own tea parties in it. I would love it!

Have you had the occasion to see some of these structures? If not, I will refer you to the internet. Pinterest is a good start; I’ve got my own board I titled “In the Henhouse.” They are charming and could actually increase property values in many neighborhoods—including ours!

My interest in chickens actually developed while we were living overseas. When we moved to Germany, one of the first things I did was attending the course for drivers’ license training. It was in this class I was taught to treat chickens with reverence, as we were informed that should we be unfortunate enough to run over and kill a German farmer’s chicken, we would have to compensate said farmer for the chicken. But that’s not all—we were informed we could also expect to pay said farmer for the anticipated progeny of the deceased chicken. As chickens continue laying eggs into the teens, this could be a very expensive incident. Thus, I became very alert to and aware of chickens.

Also, we were frequent visitors of the zoos in Germany (our kids were that age)—our favorite zoo was south of Heidelberg and had the best exotic chickens! (The kids would drag as to see the chimps and lions; I would drag them to the chickens.)

By now, my neighbors are probably a little worried about chickens moving in, but they need not. I said I would love to have one, I’d also love to have a 2 karat, sapphire cut diamond, but . . . well, okay—chickens are more likely.

I understand many folks feel it is a crazy notion to want to raise chickens “in the city limits” but let me quell some of your fears. By adhering to the restrictions established by the ordinance, your neighbor could raise chickens and you would likely never know. They are quiet birds—generally just clucking, save a few squawks when laying eggs. Most city folks wanting to raise chickens do so for the eggs—crowing roosters are not part of that plan, nor are they permitted. The issue of the odors associated with the birds is virtually non-existent considering the limit on numbers. Chickens must be tended daily and responsible owners know they must keep a clean coop in order to keep their hens healthy. Plus, the poop is great for gardens, so your chicken raising neighbor will likely have a flourishing garden, as well. If you’re nice to them you will likely benefit from their efforts when they leave eggs and zucchini on your porch!

Just When I Thought I was Accomplishing Something

Motivation is a good thing. Sometimes we have external motivators; others, we create for ourselves. Last week I created my own when I told your lovely readers about my woeful neglect of my home. My confessions resulted in a level of activity around my house I haven’t been able to claim since Christmas!

Last Sunday I woke-up and began my usual level of cleaning—it’s my day to clean our bathroom. Whoopee! Then I decided to take it to the next level and began dusting the family room. Pleased with my efforts and results I moved, duster in hand, to the office and through the entry hall. Having exhausted the heroic efforts of my little dust grabbing cloth, I then shifted gears and headed outside to salvage some plants that have not already surrendered to the heat.

That is when I found my husband, diligently toiling away on the house. You see, several years ago he began his one man crusade to preserve our old house. His first major project was our roof. The front of our house has a standing seam metal roof, which we want to try to preserve. When we noticed some leaks, we immediately began researching methods for preserving a metal roof. Darren settled on a product that he painted onto the roof. For a week, he was perched on a rented cherry picker with a rubberized paint product and mesh tape. He worked diligently, all-day, each day of his “vacation” to salvage the roof of G.B. Wilson’s house.

Now, during his break between jobs, he is back to the tedious job of scraping 130 years worth of paint off of the wood siding of that same house. This is an on-going job. He has slowly, but surely been working his way around the house, heat gun and spatula in hand, removing the paint which has been baking onto the surface of our historic home.

 

(this is the before—at the bottom of the pic; after scraping—the mid, yellowish tone; and after the primer has been applied.)

I feel sure I have mentioned this before, but just in case you missed it . . . I love our house. I’ve wanted to own an historic home for longer than I can remember. Mom and Dad brought us up on “This Old House;” we were watching when Bob Villa was cool.

Funny story: Darren and I were living in Richmond Hill, GA when Steve Thomas and crew were renovating a house on an historic Savannah Square. My sisters came to visit us for St. Patrick’s Day—a pretty big day in Savannah. Well, we went out and did what you do on St.Patrick’s Day; by that I mean we ate corned beef and potatoes. What?!?

Anyhoo, we were on our way home (don’t worry, my sister, who doesn’t eat corned beef OR potatoes) was driving and we had the brilliant idea to drive by the project house. Next thing I knew, we were pulling-up and the sisters were running up the stairs for a photo! We couldn’t wait to share this photo with Mom & Dad! Of course we were hoping Norm would walk out of the front door and pose with us, but alas, he was a no show. We were this close to fame!

Okay—so back to present time. Darren shares my love for historic homes, but I don’t think he really wanted to be this involved or perhaps, he thought I’d be doing more to help. I make my contributions, but I can assure you, I do not have the “sweat equity” Darren has invested. My help involves interior paint colors and furnishings. I do help with a few of the maintenance projects, but they really don’t stack against scraping paint in desert heat!

(Here is my dedicated man, heat gun in hand, scraping under the eaves.  He’s a keeper.)

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.

June 3, 2012—no more braces and tadpoles

I am sitting in the orthodontists’ office waiting for braces to be removed from the eagerly anticipated straight smile of my youngest daughter. While we do this, my eldest daughter took responsibility for opening my shop and my mother is at my house, having arrived this past weekend for my son’s graduation from high school.

I mention all of this because I have spent the weekend reveling in memories of times past. The things we thought would never come to pass, have. Life has a way of moving on—especially when you’re not paying attention. You spend so much time planning for the events of life, that sometimes it is difficult to grab the memories as they are happening. Most of the time, I feel blessed that this all seems so gradual, but lately, I’m feeling a little rushed.

We had a great weekend with family and friends in town for the graduation celebration. It was difficult for our son to arrange a time to have his friends over to celebrate, though; everyone has their own family obligations. So, we’ve decided to attempt a get-together for this weekend.

In anticipation of his party—and just because it’s time—we uncovered the pool last weekend. We were torn about getting started because there were hundreds, probably thousands of tadpoles swimming in the murky water atop the cover. I know I’ve mentioned our war-without-end against the mosquito population in our backyard. Well, how do you justify killing thousands of potential mosquito predators? We couldn’t, so Darren carefully transferred as many as he could to one of our galvanized tubs and we proceeded with the unveiling.

Mind you, we knew this wasn’t going to be any easy opening. In early fall our first cover tore and some muck slipped into the pool. Not having the time to remove it and clean the pool then, we slapped another cover on top and hoped for the best. Well, we got what we expected. The pool was filled with leaves and several larger tadpoles; the water color resembles the river down the hill. Yuck!

As this pool was my big idea, I took responsibility for the bulk of the cleaning. I spent most of my holiday scooping leaves and vacuuming muck. I am sorry, there are a few tadpoles that did not survive the pull of the filter pump. We’ve allowed it to settle for a couple days and today we will vacuum it again. Hopefully we can vacuum again tomorrow and then start hammering it with the chemicals.

As I said, this pool was my big idea. Remember about 6 years ago when President George W. Bush announced a tax rebate of $1100 for each kid we had claimed on our taxes? Well, I thought we should use this money for something fun for the kids. Heck, they were the reason we were getting this windfall, right? Having recently returned from Alabama where we had visited friends with an above-ground pool, I had started thinking differently about them. Not the friends—above-round pools. I am ashamed to confess, I’ve always had a sort of prejudice about them, but unlike some, I’ve been able to admit that it was a mistake to discriminate against them—especially considering that’s all we could afford. Suddenly, they were attractive and possessive of much potential. A few strategically placed tropical plants and no one would notice the metal siding, right?

So, that’s how we came to have a pool in our backyard. Thanks to President Bush and my husband’s weakened sensibilities (he was deployed at the time) we have a splash pond.

I have to admit, at times like these, I regret the purchase. But in a week when it is clean and we’re floating in circles, cooling off after yard work, I’ll be gloating about my brilliant decision to install a pool.

May 27, 2012—friends, truffle pigs and alfredo sauce

As I was leaving the shop tonight, I was chatting with Kimberly Santiago, a local artist who has written and published a book, A Collage Playground. I am fortunate to have her as a tenant in our historic building on Franklin Street—you can actually find her studio on the Strawberry Alley side of the building—but even more fortunate to call her “friend.”

Just a few years older than myself—I don’t think she would mind me saying that (one of the many reasons to admire her)—she has allowed herself to become my sounding board and confidant. She is willing to collaborate with me in business matters and share her experiences as a mother, wife, and business person. Everyone needs a Kimberly, but to be honest I’ve surrounded myself with her kind—Jane, Rogate, Monica, Sherri and Sheila are the tip of that proverbial iceberg—friends whom have ventured into business ownership and are willing to share experiences. I can’t imagine making it through my days without them.

I hope you have someone like them in your life. We all need friends to help keep the checks and balances of our lives.

 

So, right, back to the story . . . as we were leaving the shop, we were admiring the weather (as women of our age are prone to do—far more frequently than I care to admit) and wishing we hadn’t spent the entire day inside. We both agreed that the appropriate next move would be to make every effort to complete the work we anticipated at home—preferably on the patio.

 

As it has been a particularly stressful week, I immediately started formulating the plan. I’d start boiling the water for the pasta, then start the grill, grab my laptop and begin writing my article on the patio. So far, it’s working. I feel much better. Letting go of some of the stress of the day just by being outside on what is quite likely the final day of comfortable weather for the foreseeable future.

 

Even with all of the mulberries on the ground and the inevitable flies which accompany them, I am relaxing. Then our dog, Brogan, begins snarfing up the mulberries, which will lead to a stinky dog, if you know what I mean. Since he sleeps in my room, I beg and plead with him to stop—finally convincing him to lie down. He, naturally, lies down in the grass, where he can continue the snarfing, thinking I cannot observe his surreptitious efforts. Stress is returning, but still manageable. (My daughter refers to it as “truffling,” as he reminds us of those videos we’ve seen of Truffle Pigs hunting for their prize.)

 

 

Then my mind waders . . . Oh look! Is that a Robin or a Towhee? And would you just look at those swallows? I wish they would fly down around my head, arms and legs—they would find plenty of their prey feeding on my blood. Do I have time to add that final layer of paint to those Adirondack chairs? Then the clanging of the lid on the pot of vigorously boiling water returns me from the day dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Back inside, the kitchen has really heated up with the boiling pot of pasta water. I add the whole wheat pasta to the water and start warming the Alfredo Sauce. It’s out of a jar, but practically gourmet, as I swish around a little white wine to loosen the sauce still clinging to the jar. I finish grilling the chicken breasts and turkey smoked sausage. We love this meal—especially on a busy work/school night. I chop the chicken and sausage, toss it into the sauce. My daughter helps whip together a healthy green salad and we sit down to a semi-family meal (my husband is out of town). We enjoy good conversation and a few laughs. I find myself sitting there, feeling a little self-satisfied in the knowledge that this is something we do nearly every night of the year. The stress is almost all gone; I then remember I haven’t written my article.

 

 

Rats! What will I write about . . .?

May 20, 2012—Packing for Picnics

This past week at the shop, we changed one of the windows to reflect the colors of warmer temperatures and associated activities. Namely the Downtown Market, Jammin’ in the Alley and Jazz on the Lawn—all great events which have recently made their seasonal return to Clarksville.

These events help us turn our minds to the wealth of activities and entertainment available in this community; added bonus—they’re free! It costs you nothing to come down and explore the market (www.clarksvilledowntownmarket.com) with the kids. The staff at City Parks & Rec has done a great job of recruiting quality vendors, as well as entertainers, awareness participants (such as the Humane Society) and providing activities for children. During Jammin’ in the Alley (the third Friday of the month, through August), you are encouraged to come with your own chairs and picnic food or to enjoy dining with one of our downtown restaurants. Then the folks at Beachhaven Winery invite you to join them on their grounds for free entertainment; again, you can bring you own food and non-alcoholic beverages.

If you’ve got plans to shop the market, you may wish to take along a shopping tote or basket for your loot. There is so much to see and buy, make sure it is large and sturdy!

If at all possible, you may want to find a basket that will do double duty—something you can use for market shopping, but will also serve as a sturdy carry-all for the items you will take along to the picnic events you’re bound to attend this summer.

When packing your picnic baskets this year, let me encourage you to consider stepping-up your list of “usuals.” Instead of using paper plates and napkins, why not consider investing in lightweight melamine plates and cloth napkins? They are sturdy, attractive AND reusable. The same is true of light, inexpensive flatware; the kind with plastic handles is available in a variety of bright colors and helps to elevate the event.

Blankets are great for picnicking, but colorful tablecloths are just as effective and weigh less than blankets. Chairs are nice, but rather cumbersome. You could use purchased seat cushions—use the tie-on straps to create a carrying handle—or enlist floor cushions for more comfort. If you try the floor cushions, you can wrap an old belt around a couple to make them easier to carry.

There are a few other items I would include (and leave in) my picnic basket: a wine bottle opener, salt & pepper shakers, hand sanitizer, candles in containers, a lighter and bug spray.

Some additional thoughts as I was snapping photos around the shop . . . these linen, roll-up utensil storage wraps are great for carrying (as well as storing) utensils.

 

These rag-style rugs make a great, easy to carry surface for picnicking, too.

A few ideas for really impressing your fellow picnickers, you can pack some “Southern Style” stemware—they come complete with lids to keep out pesky bugs and prevent spills on uneven surfaces. If you can find a vintage tool carrier, it will be the perfect transport caddy for your glasses. This is a bit of an extravagance, but well worth the effort—if for no other reason than bragging rights!

I hope to see you at some of these events this season. I’ll bring the bug spray!

May 6, 2012--finishing the chairs

Well, last weekend did not turn-out quite as expected. 
I started Saturday morning with some of my fine downtown business friends.  We volunteered to put the flowers the City had purchased into the planters on Franklin Street and Strawberry Alley.  I want to take a moment to thank Mitchell Cherry (Ingredients), Sara Esterby (The Runner’s Hub), Anne Head (Rogate’s Boutique), Linda Shephard (Edward’s Steakhouse), Clifton Whittaker (Downtown Artists’ Co-op) and Ryan Bowie (The Roxy) for coming out to lend a spade for the beautification cause!  The flowers are lovely; plus, it shows the dedication your downtown businesses have for a holistic approach to the Downtown Clarksville improvement efforts.

Now that I’ve got the public service announcement out of the way, I can get on with my whining.
So, shortly after we were done cleaning-up the mess of flower planting, I came into the shop to do a little work before heading to the flea market.  That’s when it happened.  I made the simplest of movements—one I do every day—and pinched a nerve in my back.  Oh, the pain!  After first promising God that would take better care of my temple if he would allow me to return to an upright position, I began the process of standing erect again.  It took what felt like an eternity, but I did it.  Though in pain, I still needed to go to the flea market, so off I hobbled.
After a semi-quick tour of the market, I headed home with what little loot I could manage, knowing that when I returned, I wanted to paint our Adirondack chairs.  After Darren realized I wasn’t to be deterred, he helped me move and flip the chairs and I managed to get the first coat on both of the chairs.  I don’t remember if I mentioned it, but he had already coated them with a stinky coat of oil based primer in white.
 

Being that white is a difficult color to cover AND I like the layered look, I decided to apply a “mostly covered” coat of the Provence.  Now, in case you’ve missed it, the best thing about Annie Sloan Chalk Paint™  brand decorative paints is the fact that you don’t have to prime or sand.  The priming was done by my husband before I had decided to use this paint on some outdoor furniture.  That being said, however, I was able to use this paint right on the oil based primer (usually you have to use oil based paint over oil based primer).  All I had to do was wipe away the leaves and other debris and start painting.  Applying the Provence in a haphazard manner, I left quite a bit of the white exposed.

If I hadn’t gone on to reinjure my back later that evening (go figure), I would have applied the second coat within a few hours or on Sunday.  As it turns out, I wasn’t able to add that second layer of paint until Thursday morning.  I believe I had mentioned I would use French Linen, but I decided on Country Grey instead.

Country Grey was applied in a technique we call “drop and drag,” to achieve a touch of the color here and there. 

The final finish looks as though several layers of paint—applied through the years—have worn with age.  Instant patina!
Now, instead of standing out like a pair of brand-new Keds® among some mistreated Chuck Taylors®, they blend with all of our other old, rusty and chippy patio furniture.  I am smiling!

If you’ve got plans to paint some furniture or do some other improvements to your outdoor areas, I’d love to hear about it!


PS--Now that I have been living with the chairs for a few weeks, I've decided to add a wash of french linen over the chairs.  The color is too "beachy" for our natural surroundings--I need to tone it down.  I'll post an updated photo when I am done.