I'm trying to get some sweet peas started. At our first home we had a nice sweet pea patch. A former owner put them in several years prior. My neighbor told me she had done everything she could to kill them because she thought they made our fence line look "messy" but year after year they thankfully came back.
Two years running I have sowed seed from those very sweet peas but they did not come up. I also sowed store bought seeds last year in a pot...they did come up, quickly! And just as quickly, they became a tasty snack for some sort of critter. So I bought some sweet pea plants at the gardening center. They grew and climbed but never bloomed. I didn't have a really great garden year last year.
Lately, I have been reading a lot about the Sacred Feminine and I've had some lively discussions with other women. We've been reading about the feminine qualities of God and we praying using words like Her and She. We even tried the name Goddess on for size. Most of us confessed to having trouble with that one. I'm still sitting with how I feel about that.
But even in my discomfort...when I saw this variety of sweet pea seeds at a local nursery, how could I resist?
Clearly, I am no sweet pea growing expert so I followed the instructions on this site for planting.
I do have lots of good compost for planting the seeds, thanks to my hens, and I did nick the seed and I also soaked the seeds for a little while. I'm hoping that these peas come up this year but they will or they won't. We shall see.
Meanwhile, the seeds I planted in these little peat pots are sprouting...you just can't plant enough sweet basil!
My friend Kera taught me how to start seedlings in egg shells! I started these a few days ago. When the transplants are ready to go in the ground, I can gently crush the eggshell and plant the whole thing. The egg shell will nourish the plant. Genius!
Sweet peas make
wonderful old fashioned bouquets. They are one of my favorite flowers
and I sure hope that God will see Her way clear to grace my garden with
these heavenly blooms, once again.
I'll keep you posted.
Namaste,
Lisa
If I had a name for this summer, I would call it The Fairly Odd Summer. It has definitely not gone as expected or planned. The first half was pretty uncomfortable. The second half is feeling pretty darn good. I would like to explain it to you but I find my experience difficult to put into words and I think I am still processing it.
In fact, for the past few weeks, I've been pondering the profound and insightful post I was sure I should be writing. I've had several false starts involving me sitting and staring at a blank computer screen, eventually wandering off in search of something "more productive" to do. A few days ago I was absolutely determined to write something meaningful...inspiring...spiritual. I had lots of ideas but they just weren't coming together.
Couldn't get going so I decided to do "something productive" and read my horoscope instead...
"Instead of talking about yourself today, process your emotions on your own and then share your inner journey once you've had time to think about it for a while."
Good enough. Thought to myself, "Just share some shots of your zinnias." But as I began to write just a bit of narrative to tie the photos together, I realized a story was emerging and it wasn't just about zinnias...I realized that The Fairly Odd Summer has a bit of a theme.
The first thing that I noticed about The Fairly Odd Summer was the return of color in my life. Mike and I have lived in exactly two houses together. The first was a post WWII Cape Cod. Quite small and cozy and pretty darn cute. Despite the small size, we threw lots of big parties there. That house was a bit kitschy. And full of color. Inside and out. I had a ball decorating it. I remember thinking of it as a "doll house."
When we moved to our current home, we toned down the kitsch a bit and we definitely toned down our wall colors but there was still some color. And then, a few years back, I don't know exactly why, but color left the building. We moved our collection of Fiesta pottery to the basement and bought solid white for every day use. I remember the year I began limiting the garden palette to pinks and white. Bath linens were replaced with solid white, shower curtain and all. We bought a brown couch. It wasn't a conscious thing. It just was.
But The Fairly Odd Summer has harkened the return of color. Starting with the garden. The riotous colors of zinnias reappeared in our garden this year. I never actually thought, "I'm going to bring color back to the garden." It was more like, "I should plant some zinnias. Why haven't I planted zinnias in ten years?"
The year that I was pregnant with Big C (who will be 15 in a less than a month), my neighbor taught me how to plant zinnia seeds. Yes, that's right...intellectually I knew that flowers grow from seed but I didn't truly believe it. Flowers came in flats and pots from the gardening center. I also didn't know much about flowers other than the petunias, geraniums and impatiens my mother favored.
Although I loved my mothers beautiful containers and annual beds, I developed a longing for what I learned was called a "cutting garden." I could see myself standing in my garden. I'd wear a big floppy straw hat and tall wellies. In my hands I would carry a vintage floral basket and a pair of shears. I'd wander about, carefully selecting only the most perfect blooms, before taking them inside to fashion a lovely cut flower arrangement in a unique antique container.
Anyway, even though I wasn't wearing a big hat or wellies, I DID manage to wander into my neighbor's beautiful garden one evening. It was awash in a riot of colors and blossoms of different shapes. Zinnias. I could hardly breathe. "What are THEY?" I remember asking. "Where did you buy them? Are they expensive? They ARE expensive, aren't they?" She looked amused and said, "Honey, just throw down a few packages of seeds."
So the next spring I did. Our small home had a very large garden and there was lots of room to throw down more than a FEW packages of seeds. I went a bit zinnia crazy. And when Big C was born right in the middle of the summer dog days, my garden was in full, glorious bloom.
It was fantastic! I remember that as the roses and lilies and carnations that arrived in celebration of C's birth began to fade in their vases, my mother in law removed them and refilled the vases with armloads of colorful zinnias. It was definitely a case of "having your zinnias and cutting them too."
I'm not quite sure what this Return is all about but I am going to pay attention. I'm just going to watch it and see what happens.
Meanwhile, here are a few shots of my zinnias. They are planted right outside my sunroom window...I can see them easily just over the top of the computer monitor while I work. Last year that bed was dominated by a pretty but overly large clump of French lavender. I was sad when it developed some kind of blight and quickly turned brown and died but I have to say, it was really nice to have a spot for zinnias again.
More later on The Fairly Odd Summer.
Here's to color.
Peace,
Lisa
