Gardening + Nature

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God writes the gospel not in the bible alone, but also on the trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.

Martin Luther


Homemade kombucha in the house! That’s what’s happening to-day. Way back in our Portland days (we’ve been gone three and a half years! WOW!), we made heaps and tons of kombucha. As we didn’t feel like schlepping a SCOBY or two or three across the country to Pennsylvania, we left all means of production behind. Curiously enough, when we had our pre-move garage sale, the people who bought all the gear were getting ready to start their own brew operation. Great minds think alike, eh?

This time around, we are adding flavors, upping our game a bit. Or so I hope. I made these this morning and thusly have no clue if they will actually be worth drinking. Fingers crossed! Since my memory isn’t what it used to be, AND I bought a cool chalk board pen, I made my notes right on the bottle.

Also what’s happening – much, much planting! Over the past week, we’ve put in five trees, two shrubs, and thirty-eight plants, with about fifty more to go. I kid you not. Most of the labor done by yours truly because the hubster has been earning our bread AND busting up a hideous monstrosity of a patio, sledge hammer chain-gang style, while I dig, dig, dig. “What we have here is a failure to communicate…” Not really. We are ace communicators, the two of us, mind readers even. I just think of Cool Hand Luke at times of day-long outdoor labor is all.

Anyhoo, hopefully all will flourish and our yard won’t look so very, very brown.

Happy Friday!

Look not for refuge in anyone beside yourself.

Tibetan Saying


Good morning, dear reader! Last evening’s 80% chance of precipitation brought this lovely bit of fluff down on our burgeoning patch. Always a welcome sight, I must say. The cute birdhouse is eagerly awaiting tenants, but I honestly think the entry is a tad small for most of our fine feathered neighbors. In any case, it looks darn cute.

We have tulip and crocus and daffodil, nestled and budding under the blanket. To say that I am eager for their blossoms is an understatement. How spoiled I was by the evergreen and early color of the Pacific Northwest! Camellia, daphne -theat scent, too, how I miss you. Everyting is coming along, however, juniper and lodgepole and a few whippersnapper aspens, too. Grow, grow, grow!

And there I am, wandering about, sandals and Grandpa’s robe. The comforts of home.


Woke up to this fluffy bit of snow, as insubstantial as a puff of smoke, but more beautiful, of course. Wishing I could invoke the boot trudging storms of my childhood, of snowman making ilk. Sturdy, cover the ground for days kind of snow. But alas, this is all we’ve got. I’ll take it for its beauty and keep wishing for more.

Happy Birthday, Daddy!

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