Give it a rest.

I was standing at my kitchen sink thinking of the myriad of tasks still unfinished on my to-do list.  These included a bunch of planting and pruning tasks in my garden, not to mention the mess I have going on in my office/studio/classroom right now.

The voice of my Noisy Internal Perfectionist (let's just call her My N.I.P.) was insisting that I get everything completely in order before school starts in a few days.  My N.I.P would not stand for anything less than her perceived perfection (I swear. she is soooo noisy!), but I was still debating between giving in to my need to rest and just listening to her and plowing ahead and therefore burning myself out.

So, I was looking out of the window at all of the undone garden tasks when I spotted a hummingbird apparently enjoying the nectar from one of the bleeding heart vines.  These are the same vines that appear to be dead for the entire winter and always delight me when they return and bloom, but that's not important right now. =D

Hummingbirds and their frenetic wing activity just amaze me.  They never appear to have to stop to rest.

I was thinking this as I ran to get my camera.  (I know....)  ;-)

When I returned to the window, this is what I saw...

It was as if he was very specifically answering my "Do they ever rest?" question.

Once again, God uses nature to humble me. Lesson learned.

Note to My N.I.P. -  SHUT. UP.

Random fun-fact:
The hummingbird is called a "zun-zun" (zoon zoon) in Spanish Cuba.
(I just like the way that sounds. =D)

They only come out at night...

Onthe 23rd Day of the Month of September in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence, and this terrifying enemy surfaced as such enemies often do in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...

Mission Viejo, California.  =D

I have something to confess.
I have a plant in my garden that I'm a little afraid of terrified to be around.
I know. Stupid.
I try to ignore it. I'm afraid to transplant it. (I don't want to encourage it in any way.)
In fact, I only keep it because my neighbor gave me the cutting and I am being polite.

I know. How lame is that? Besides, where did this neighbor get the cutting? What if he's really a pod person and is handing out cuttings of exotic plants as recruitment tools for his home planet?? (I know. I kind of went straight over the edge there, but that's not important right now.)

It's kind of hideous in an exotic sort of way, isn't it?
And right around this time of year those fascinating, freakish, pinkish tentacle things threaten to bloom.

But here's the kicker: They only bloom at night.  Doesn't this just have all the makings of a horror movie?
Seriously. Not until after 9 PM. And I always forget, so I have to set post-it reminders around myself.

Because when she does bloom, which is always at night, it's quite a spectacular show, in a man-eater-life-threatening-pod-people-from-another-planet kind of way. (Seriously, how well do I really know that neighbor???)

Quite lovely (and scary beyond all reason!) and with a tempting fragrance. (oh sure, they give it a tempting fragrance if they want to attract the civilization they're trying to destroy.!)

I like to call her Audrey II.

She's beautiful, isn't she? In a sort of I-only-bloom-at-night-because-it-fits-in-with-my-plan-to-rule-the-universe way.

So I go out to check on her and she's happily blooming and I can feel a horror movie shriek trying to find it's way out of my throat when I suddenly think I heard her saying: FEED ME!
Or wait...Maybe I've just seen Little Shop of Horrors too many times..... hmmm.

The White Picket Fence - Part Deux

If you've ever done any kind of home improvements, you know that it's like knocking down the first in a long line of dominoes. It's the same wedding-invitation-logic that says if you invite so and so, you must invite the next person and so on and so on.

In this case it started with the picket fence. (which I absolutely LOVE, but that's not important right now.)
Which, of course, mandated a trip to the nursery, because the second part of my Vision for My Perfect Home Exterior involved roses.

But, of course you know that I have certain Rules for Buying Roses:

• They must be colorful.
• They must be fragrant.
• They must have cool and meaningful names.

I got a deep yellow one called Gold Medal - because if picket fence building were an Olympic Sport..... =D
And an almost magenta one with a really super-sweet fragrance called Chrysler Imperial - because of my love of classic old stuff.
The white Icebergs are planted all around the perimeter of Mission Viejo (where we live).
And my very favorite (not just because the blooms are orange and pink and has a lovely fragrance, but seriously, how cool is that??) is this one:

The name?
DISNEYLAND!   ;-)

(I crack myself up.)

How does my garden grow?

In 1970, when our home was built, the "country-look" was in. Rugged, exposed beams were the hip thing.
Fast forward to when we actually bought this house in 2001.  I struggled with those once-hip exposed beams.
Truthfully, I hated looking at those things sticking out of our roof line. I wondered if there was a way to cover them so they wouldn't look so ugly hideous.

Some of our neighbors with the same model actually sawed their beams off, but that left the front of their homes looking weird and unfinished.

So, until we can afford to completely re-do the front of the house, I figured I'd just deal with it.
I found this fabulous climbing rose called Stairway to Heaven or (STH), which promised to climb at least ten feet. I liked it because the blooms looked just like the red roses I carried in my bridal bouquet. (sigh)

So we planted the rose bush and honestly, that first year it was such a disappointment. just a few skinny sticks coming out of the ground. The next year I said to Eric, "Let's just rip it out." Apparently I said it within earshot of the STH and it exclaimed "A mi?!""  (because yes, all inanimate objects in my home speak to me with a Cuban accent, but that's not important right now. =D) Which is just like saying "Not me, baby!" and it started to grow. Not just to grow but to flourish. Every year it gets taller and fuller.  And every year it takes my breath away. 

And sure enough, every year I remember that I fell in love with it because it was a reminder of my wedding day. (aww!)
This year it didn't look like it was going to grow too high and I said to Eric (again within earshot of the rose bush), "Let's just trim it way back so we can paint this year." Again, we heard the familiar motivational words, "A mi?!" and off it went.

This is what it looks like today.... (notice how the sticky-out beams are covered by the glorious flowers?)

It's just magnificent!

People seriously stop their cars and stare.  I'm tempted to put up a sign that says ...

'Yes, it's a rose bush. But be careful, it not only eavesdrops, it also speaks Spanish." =D

Can you hum a few bars?

This was taken at The Huntington Library and Botanical Gardens. Don't we look pretty in pink? ;-)

This is in the Japanese garden and I was seriously floored by how amazingly beautiful these cherry blossoms were.  I just couldn't understand why they would plant such a tranquil garden near such noisy power lines. 

But wait . . . I quickly noticed . . . there were NO power lines anywhere near here. 

Hmmm . . .

Yikes! The cherry blossoms were buzzing

. . . with BEES!!!

Really busy, noisy bees. An entire bee army.  A whole stinkin' WALL OF BEES.

Let's get the heck out of here!! 
Well, as soon as we finish taking the Darbys with the Pink Cherry Blossoms picture.

I might be completely freaked out, but my priorities remain intact. =D

You're all invited to my Pity Party!

We took the red-eye home from Honolulu. 
It seemed like a good scheduling decision at the time.

I hadn't planned on catching a cold in Hawaii, but that's exactly what I did. 
So I got home and I was over-tired from not being able to sleep on the flight and all feverish and achy and fussy.

Oh so fussy.
And in a foul, foul mood.

Yes, I know I can't complain, after all, I just got back from Hawaii, blah, blah, blah.

But I was so cranky and sick and when I'm like that every glass seems half-empty. (I'm so embarrassed to admit that, but that's sooo not important right now.)

The super long to-do list  that I had made before I left was still sitting on my desk, not caring that I had no decent coping skills left. 
I got overwhelmed.
I went outside to have a good, long I'm-feeling-so-sorry-for-myself cry.

But I was stopped dead in my tracks by these little beauties right here.

Daffodils!*
In my garden.
That I planted years ago.
And they're BACK! AGAIN!
I love that they surprise me like this EVERY TIME.

I laughed out loud.

And I was grateful to be home and I'm starting to feel like my normal old self again. (Is that a good thing?)   ;-)

*They remind me of the original Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory  where Gene Wilder takes the daffodil and uses it as a teacup. 
(OPPORTUNITY TO PLAY THE KEVIN BACON GAME #3,175 - Gene Wilder to Kevin Bacon - go! =D)

Keep the faith

Look at that beautiful vine growing in the corner of the patio there.
(pay no attention to my daughter and her hula-hoop, even though she is REALLY good at it, but that's not important right now)
I swear.
I have these four big, fat pots sitting in each corner of my patio and in them are these amazingly gorgeous flowering vines.
No, this isn't like my version of a Jedi mind trick -"these aren't the droids you're looking for." =D
The only problem is that they seem to completely die off in the winter.
This is California, remember, and we don't really know how to "do" seasons.
So, in the fall and winter, when they get all dry and crackly and the leaves fall off, it looks as if I'm cultivating twigs.
And I tend to despair a little.
And then I think I should maybe try to do something about it.
I don't know what.
Do I continue to water the twigs?
Fertilize maybe?
Re-pot?
Take them out and burn them?
Replace them with something that looks green all the time?
(there's a lot of mental hand-wringing happening at the same time)

But then, the weather starts to warm up and things start to change.
And it seems to happen almost overnight.
And I didn't even notice when the change occurred.
But it did.
And I did nothing . . .  but hold on to a promise.

Amazing, isn't it?

Another Garden Metaphor for Your Life brought to you by. . .

The Creator.

Okay.
I get it.

(sheesh)

Our motto? Laugh. Eat. Play.

The kids are out of school and in this part of the country it's like a feeding frenzy trying to get kids signed up for "camps."

Yes. That's the hip thing to do.  (of course, I am anything but hip -  sigh)

If you don't know how to just be with and enjoy your child or help them entertain themselves for the summer, you sign them up for "camp."  (Not a criticism, just a fact in my South Orange County white-bread world)

They can choose soccer camp, sailing camp, movie making camp, swimming camp, acting camp, art camps, theater camps, etc. Not only that, but a parent could easily spend thousands for that happy and memorable experience for their child. And you usually get a cool camp shirt, too. Good stuff.
I'm thinking that with those extra thousands I could be saving here, I can buy that little Mac Mini beauty and maybe just come up with some clever ideas for "camp" myself.  ;-)

I'm thinking theses could be really fun:

• Surf camp (for sure, Dudes.)
• Painting
• Cooking
• Swimming
• Stargazing
• Science
• Scrapbooking
• Movie Making
• Teen Fitness
• Sewing
• Improv - definitely
• Then of course, there are movie nights. I'm thinking a Danny Kaye film festival. (or maybe the Marx Brothers?)

I have tons of ideas for these and more.
Let me let you in on my secret:  I'm just pretty darn childish myself. 
Seriously. I come up with ideas for stuff I'd like to do and suggest it to my kids.

I've pretty much got all the resources I need including the willing victims students campers.

The truth is that we do something like this every year.  We like to call it. . . "summer."  ;-)

Now all we need is a cool camp song. . . hmmm. . . =D

A Conundrum

There's nothing I love more than looking out my kitchen window and seeing my roses in bloom. Nothing. (Okay, well, maybe the smell of garlic and onions cooking. But that's not important right now.)
When we first moved into this house, I would look out at nothing-but-green and picture colorful roses along the side and back fences.  I swear.  I could visualize it perfectly.  And so, we planted the roses and my vision became a reality.  Love that.
But here's the problem:
I also love having fresh roses from my garden on the table.
But I love seeing them in bloom and I am reluctant to trim them.
But what a beautiful bouquet they create and the Double Delights are so amazingly fragrant.
But look how gorgeous all that color looks when you see it from the kitchen window.
But after they open, they need to be trimmed out.

Deadheaded.

That word makes me think of Jerry Garcia and The Grateful Dead. And ok, I really was kind of a Deadhead back in the 70's. But I'm not a liberal or a pot-head, and, come to think of it, I never really did like tie-dye all that much.  (But that's not important right now, either.)

I really hate to remove all that fabulous color.
See how torturous this is for me?
A Conundrum.
I have finally begun to make peace with the process. 
Fridays are the day I deadhead the roses.

And sometimes I listen to Sugar Magnolia while I'm pruning. =D

From my point of view

The year we moved into this house, we planted roses.
They each have names and a story to tell.  The names and colors all have meaning for me.  Much like everything else that decorates my home.  That is really important to me.  Sure I like stuff that is fun and colorful, but if you were to ask, I would have a story to tell about the things I choose to surround myself with.

This particular rose bush (can I really call it a bush?)  is called Stairway to Heaven. And no, it's not that I am a hard core Led Zeppelin fan. =D

I chose this one because of the clumps of bright red flowers it promised to produce.
Red, of course, is my favorite color. But the color alone was not the impetus for my choice.
It is because they grow in such a way as to remind me of my bridal bouquet.

Awww. I know. I know.
Mushy. Cheesy. Sappy. Dorky.
But confronted with these every day, I think:
Beautiful. Amazing. Fabulous. Spectacular.

I guess it's just a matter of perspective.