Monday, May 17, 2010

Digging It


I dig dirt.

And the lovely things it grows.

This weekend, I stood in the middle of one greenhouse building solely devoted to geraniums. So many breathtaking colors to choose from. I only needed one.

Planting flowers is kind of like quilting (or painting, etc.). You combine colors, patterns, and textures to create something visually appealing.


I can't remember the name of this perennial that I planted a couple years ago, but seeing it in bloom makes me so happy:

Sparkly!

I did get my Dresden plate pillows finished this evening. More on that tomorrow.

Do you garden? What makes you feel sparkly?


3 comments:

  1. I kill plants P.

    I put some things in pots a few years ago and miraculously they have survived. I'm happy with that and wont tempt fate by calling myself a gardener.

    You however appear to have very green thumbs.

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  2. I walk near flowers and they scream in agony. Last year Ed bought me a pot with tulips. He brought it home and they were in full bloom--beautiful pink colors. I know they don't belong in pots and that may have contributed to their untimely demise, but I don't think they would have died so quickly (the very next day) if he hadn't handed them to me. I told him not to. I begged him to spare their lives. He insisted. What could I do? I took them, the poor things, and they trembled and cried out. I set them on the table near the window, gave them a little water, and tried to stay away from them, but it was too late. The damage was done. May they rest in peace.

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