Shoo Lie Loo

Experimental Photography in the Yard

I hadn't moved beyond the iPhone for a while, so it was fun to break out my actual camera yesterday to take some interesting pics of some natural touches.

 
 
 
 
 

 

Bunny Planter

I got this awesome glazed ceramic bunny planter at a garage sale for free. No distressing or painting required - it was in perfect condition as-is.

I've planted some miniature orange marigolds in contrast to the pale lime green. Color splashes everywhere! I love spring!!

Well, I Had To Be Fair...

Yes, Those Are Hedge Clippers

Hey, I let the girl ride a real live alligator...never let it be said I don't let my kids try things!!

Awesome PeeWee Gardeners

That Charlie is a REAL Creep (or so I've heard...)

As the days of spring bring us more and more plant and animal life, I'm drawn further into solving the mystery of "what lies beneath".

Yesterday, Easter Sunday, my mother-in-law walked me thru the yard and helped me to identify several plants we had growing but which I had little to no previous history tending. (I attempted this with my dad and brother on Facebook but was met with their typical goofiness...)

Hostas, flag plants (breathtaking when they will bloom!!), red maples, eunonymous, blue fescue, patches of Kentucky Bluegrass...

We discovered some old bricks covered by a vast field of a clover type of groundcover with violet trumpet shaped flowers. I had noticed this groundcover all around the yard. It surely is pretty, and it's also aromatic. I also remember seeing it quite a bit in my own yard as a child.

There was another variation of this groundcover, only the flowers were a lighter purple and were more fan-shaped. We saw far less of those.

My mother-in-law told me that we had....duh da daaaaa...Creeping Charlie. She said she wasn't 100% sure, but she felt pretty confident. And, according to her assessment of the situation, this was not a welcome visitor, but rather an invasive wildflower.

Well, my ears started to twitch and I had to practically lasso myself to the porch so as not to make a hasty, Internet-bound retreat. However, once we were inside, I was able to converse with the fam while I surfed from my phone. My poor mother-in-law - little did she know what can of worms (ha!) she had opened. Because, a little information goes a long way with me, and I've been accused of being an Internet Bloodhound.

Within minutes, as the family attempted to talk about things that most normal families talk about during a holiday get-together, I was interrupting the casual flow of the conversation dancing like a five-year-old who has to pee.

"Mom, Mom, MOMMMMMM...is this it? Is this what we saw??"

And yes, it was....Creeping Charlie.

The first site that I visited introduced "Charlie" as a friendly wildflower. Fragrant, edible, pleasing to the eyes, an easy to grow groundcover with a vast array of medicinal qualities. It belongs to the mint family. "Charlie" prefers moisture and shade. Well, our yard is a paradise for "Charlie"... With all the trees and tall houses, shade-loving plant life does quite well here.

But this left me confused. My mother-in-law had said, in no uncertain terms, that "Charlie" was a jerk. He squats on your territory and mooches off of other plant life. And that, once a resident, "Charlie" is nearly impossible to evict. This website (which I cannot recall because of the speed with which I was surfing) had described "Charlie" as the boy-next-door...

So I ventured to another website.

Confirmation.

There are two ways to look at "Charlie". As described above by the first website and then, as the next website clearly stated, "Charlie" really should go. Creeping Charlie is known to completely choke lawns, particularly those that are shady. The pretty little flowers that first display are just a tease, really, because they eventually fade into brownish clovers.

Various commercial products like Round-Up aren't even effective against this creepy chap. Borax or a chemical with a Borax component is the only way to go. It's highly toxic, smells horrible and will kill anything around it. That sort of goes against the grain (ha again!) of my organic thinking.

By the way, the relative of "Charlie" with the fan-shaped leaves turns out to be Creeping Thyme. This is viewed as a "friendly" groundcover, also easy to grow, and is very resilient to being walked on. Therefore, it is quite good to grow in between the bricks on patios or sidewalks, sort of like you would use moss.

So, I will have to debate on this to see if "Charlie" will go or if we'll let him stick around for a while. Certainly he doesn't detract from the beauty of the house (he actually enhances it with a naturistic aesthetic).

So, some of my first gardening mysteries have been solved. 
The news is a mix of good and bad, but it really depends on how you look at it.

I'm just very, very thankful that it is NOT a green mumba....Dad....  ;-)

Virginia Bluebells

When I was a little girl, I have distinct memories of picking bouquets of Virginia Bluebells and lilacs for my mom for Mother's Day. I'd put them in one of my dad's mason jar glasses and voila, instant gift.

Granted, my mom may not remember those bouquets as well as I do, because moms are supposed to accept trinkets and small gestures from their small children as if they are prized possessions. My dad usually managed something from us kids, and Mother's Day was usually a flurry of activity - go to Grandma Cleary's house, have a nice dinner, maybe BBQ out, etc. I honestly don't have many childhood memories of Mother's Day other than those darn bouquets.

Virginia Bluebells are perhaps my favorite flower. Yes, I love tulips and lilacs, hyacinths and hydrangeas, roses and Asiatic lilies, lavender, peonies, clematis, moonflowers and morning glories and asters - my taste has evolved over the years as I've started my own gardens.

However, the Virginia Bluebell holds significant meaning for me now. Like so many experiences in life, which we inevitably take for granted due to the hustle and bustle of our own worlds, the Bluebells only hang out for a very short time.

They grow in heavily shaded and moisture-rich areas, like my old backyard in Millington. There was an easement from our property to the cornfield behind us that was heavily wooded and very hidden from the sun. It was also at the bottom of a hill, which allowed for ample water drainage right down into the thick of it - where you would found bountiful Bluebells each spring. Delicate draping trumpets in lavender, violet and sky blue presented on large, green, leafy plants. (See picture.)

You had to be quite careful when picking these flowers. It wouldn't take much for the flowers to pop off the stem. So, in the clumsy hands of a five or six-year-old, it was good that there were hundreds of plants to pick.

I'd give the flowers to my mom, and then, over a very short period of time, the Bluebells would wilt and then dry out and then crumble at the slightest touch. Such a short lifespan for such a lovely, unsung flower. (The lilacs don't stay with us for very long either, but you can keep their fragrance going if you keep the branch thoroughly watered.)

I mention these flowers tonight because, as I was unloading the kids from the van after playschool, I noticed that the neighbor behind us has one lone clump of Bluebells growing. I hadn't expected to see them there, amongst his diesel engines and various other projects that he and (so it would seem) everyone is working on. I gasped because it's been so very long since I've seen my beloved Bluebells. And I took each child by the hand and showed to them the precious flower.

I'd have launched into an all-out nature lesson on the short life of the Bluebell, but both of the kids wanted to get inside to see our kitty visitor, Domingo. So, they were off and running thru the mud in their rainboots before I could really even say "Bluebell". Oh well, even kids are lost in their own worlds.

I call our daughter Lulubelle (or sometimes, Lubelle). I'm not sure where the name came from, but she's had it since she was months old. We made her a toychest, and we painted that name on the front of it. I'm as uncertain where Lucille/Lucy evolves into Lulubelle as I am where Margaret becomes a Peggy. But, no matter, that's her nickname (or, one of them -- the child may suffer an identity crisis because we picked a good name for lots of nickname opportunities).

One day, I called out to her "Lubelle!" when we were at the store. The woman beside me said "Bluebell? Is that her nickname? How sweet is that?"

That moment stuck with me, because I'm sure most people aren't used to hearing Lubelle. But it warmed my heart.

And now, when I refer to my daughter as Lubelle, I often think back to the reference of Bluebell. And sometimes, just for fun, I'll actually call her Bluebell.

And, like the flower that I love so much, the little girl that I love so much will all too soon be gone into her own world, her own life.

And that, my friends, is the reason that you really should stop to smell the Bluebells. :-)

 

Busted!

After cramming his little face into the feeder, I knocked on the window to notify him that he had been caught. Therefore, he made a mad dash... Sorry for the crummy view. The only way I could snap the pic on the fly was thru my kitchen window....otherwise, he would have scurried. away.

Our First Known Visitor to the Windmill Birdfeeder

Mailbox - Repurpose or Repaint?

Not that I don't love birds, but this mailbox has seen better days. Thoughts are to turn into a unique birdhouse or repaint into something more interesting. Ideas?

Repainted Windmill

We used a hammered oil rub bronze. Going to hang a birdfeeder - maybe stained glass?

Heavily Shaded Area Growth

Prairie Grass

Sundial or Birdbath?

New Growth

We have lots of plant surprises coming in...

Spray Paint, Anyone?

Soooooo.....

This afternoon, when I was picking the kids up from playschool, I happened to mention to Lucy and Henry's teachers that I was interested in any cans of spray paint that they might have laying around.

It was about five minutes later that I felt the need to clarify my intentions. I'm neither a tagger nor a huffer. I just want to save a few bucks on paint to refinish the many projects that I have pending.

Ms. Sue and Ms. Karen laughed - the thought of me being either had never occurred to them.

I think I have watched too many episodes of "Intervention" and seen too many rail cars.

It's true, though. In this day and age, we have to watch so carefully what we say. My thoughts are "nuts to that". I'm just an ordinary woman with a gigantic list of creative projects I want to work on. And, sometimes, the colors that other people use on their various projects have the tendency to inspire.

Right now, I'm in the "Inspiration Phase". I continue to doubt my own intuition on what will make that planter look striking or that statue really add a spark to the yard. I have a Menards, a Farm King and, the sadly omnipotent, Wal-Mart at my disposal. I could go to any of those stores and buy any old color for a few bucks. But do I have that sense? Will it be a disaster or a piece de resistance?

When my kids are coloring or drawing pictures, I never doubt their integrity. Lucy loves to make pictures of people with large ears, looooo-ooooong legs and eyes that blend with dimples. Henry is going thru his "black period" - everything he colors is primarily black, including the apology picture he colored for a boy he tussled with at playschool.

So why then do I question and doubt myself? Isn't art, in its purest form, just an interpretation? So what if the colors I choose don't match the entire planet's vision?

I'm not afraid to write. I know I make grammatical and spelling errors and ignore typos because it's not a big deal to me. I never use Spellcheck. (This could have something to do with working in the medical field - Word frequently discriminates against terms like "bilateral oophorectomy" or "diabetic gastroparesis".)

In any case, I look forward to the weekend. We are going bowling with Lucy's friend Angelina. The letter I crafted to her mommy on Monday was answered by a phone call from her daddy. Since the forecast is cold and miserable (see my post on the weather for my thoughts on that during this time of year), we decided to plan something indoors.

My writing worked then. If not a thoughtful and inspiring example of literature, it at least got Angelina's dad's attention. And all I wanted to get from that letter was a simple "yes, our girls can have a playdate". Success!

However, when it comes to the visual, I struggle. I'm spatially challenged and, even though I've been told time and again that I'm not colorblind, I still see myself making ridiculous choices that will have the neighbors howling with laughter and/or calling the city council to take me down! (Did I ever mention that my mind wanders frequently to the dramatic?)

Here's to a great weekend, no matter what's in store. And here's to asking for those things that we need and having plausible deniability....

 

Statue Garden Art

And this one, too. She's broken, but I think that adds charm.

Water Pump Garden Art

Need more ideas on restoration...

Weather Or Not...

Every spring here in Illinois, I do the same thing to myself - I burst through the doors on the first day where temperatures don't require down coats and head-to-toe bundling to drink in that delicious sunshine.

And every year, I'm hornswaggled (a term that I find is perfectly acceptable down here). The weather gives us a sneak peek, a tiny tidbit to get us all excited and to dig out the garden tools. And then, it happens...the temperatures drop, the pollen count explodes and it's miserable. For days. On end.

Case in point, last Saturday and Sunday were in the 50s and 60s. We spent those two days really enjoying the weather and watching the curtains flutter. We tackled the now infamous "leaf project".

Despite the weather...today, on my lunchbreak, I stepped outside in a coat and rainboots into a cold, miserable drizzle under a pale gray sky to lay down grass seed and to gently rake aside some debris burying unknown garden finds from the side of the house. My goal was to try to expose and  hopefully identify some of the perennials, trees and bushes that previous owners have planted.

Once again, I embraced my A.D.D. tendencies and moved quickly along the side of the house. Daffodils, lilys, prairie grass, a few ornamental trees and a gorgeous dark green leafy ground cover that appears to vine (ivy?)... Instant gratification. I would bag the piles of ick later.

I moved on further to the back of the side yard to discover another garden. I'd reference Frances Hodgson Burnett and call it my very own Secret Garden, but the area is in plain view. Just another example of the famous saying that a man will walk straight thru the gates of hell with both eyes wide open (since we tend to ignore our senses).

Perched centrally in that garden is an old metal weathervane/windmill. I posted a picture earlier because I'm hoping that those more creative than me will be able to help me come up with a way to repurpose it into something for the birds. A feeder, a perch? Should I just make it a piece of garden art?

It's clearly something you'd see down on the farm. I would love for it to make the house pop. Color - lots of color. The Victorian Period was splashed with color.

However, our house has been resided, possibly several times, into a drab off-white. The only hints of color to the house are the red cedar wheelchair ramp off of the porch (my son three-year-old Henry calls it "the bridge"), the black shingled roof and some trimwork on the front porch in a pale green. There is also bright green Astroturf covering the whole floor of the wraparound front porch, but that's not really my idea of "color".

So, this weathervane/windmill-a-ma-bob is ample enough in size that I can place it somewhere in the yard to add some eye candy.

One of my best girlfriends introduced me to spray paint not so very long ago. I keep finding things around the house that are begging to be primed and painted. I've sampled reds, blues and greens, a stony-finish taupe. Not sure where to start with this thing. I see endless possibilities. Hubby, no doubt, sees it as something he's going to have to help me haul out of the garden bed.

No matter - the weather will not get me down. Ok - honestly? It will. But only for a short time. Because I know something that only people who have spent a fair amount of time in Illinois know: if you don't like the weather, wait a few minutes because change will undoubtedly come.

 

Restoring an Old Metal Weathervane?

Looking for ideas to make this into a nice piece for the yard. Colors? Additions? Total waste?? I would like it to blend country with Victorian...

The Mystery Unraveled a Little Further...

Today's project was to buy a new van. Pending some other issues, we are waiting until Monday to complete THAT project.

One of the benefits of backbreaking yardwork (which was the back-up A.D.D. project du jour) is that you often get to converse with your neighbors.

While Chris and I watched the skies for threatening rainfall as we shoveled about 23 bags of leaves, branches and seed pods, an unknown neighbor came by to introduce herself. Forty-five minutes later and her cat Wendell using one of our eight leaf piles as a litterbox as we watched in resigned curiosity, we found ourselves covertly dancing back and forth with "we need to move on now" as she continued to talk.

However, truth be told, she was a wealth of information about the previous homeowners for at least the past 30 years and the goings-on of the current residents of our prestigious Chestnut Street. 

Chris and I have always been very intrigued by the Winchester Mystery House in California for its odd structures and designs, a la  Sara Winchester, the wife of the late inventor of the Winchester rifle. A psychic had apparently told her, at some point, that she needed to move from her native Boston to the West Coast.

The eccentric Sara Winchester required her builders to work 24/7 to appease the spirits with a grandiose house made of nothing but the finest of materials (and she was a bottomless pit of money) and also to confuse them with odd architectural designs to prevent them from following her. With the unusual staircases and completely odd architecture of our house, we had immediately begun referring to it as "The Winchester Mystery House of Kewanee."  

And guess what...there was indeed an "eccentric little old lady" who lived here. As we had suspected. And she barricaded herself into the dining room as her primary residence. As we had suspected. And she built on various additions and questionable upgrades. As we had suspected. And she had plopped a bathroom two feet from the grand foyer in our house because "she could". As we had suspected.

We also found out that this eccentric elderly lady had, at one time, turned her home into a home for elderly ladies. So parts of the picture become clearer.

This all still clearly, and possibly more so, propels me to go to the Kewanee Historical Society to uncover more mysteries.

Now - some hydrocortisone on my neck, a nice adult beverage and some blogging about the day's experiences have made me feel quite good. And I'm ready to tackle something else tomorrow.

But guess what....we FINISHED the project. The front yard, as proven by the pictures in the photo album, show the before and after shots of what we tackled today. And I'm awful proud of us. We worked as a family in the beautiful "day before spring" sun, each with our own rakes and each child additionally wielding a cheap plastic shovel. And Super Grammy came to the rescue at the right time to bring us additonal lawn bags (we seriously thought ten bags would be enough...?) AND take over childcare for the evening so we could finish without having to constantly run interference.

We have uncovered grass and hostas and renewed our belief in ourselves that we can complete a project.

The result? Sore....but very, very proud.