Reblooming

On my walk the other day I noticed a lilac bush sporting these small clusters of flowers.

Lilacs in October.

An old superstition says that flowers blooming out of season portend a death.

I am not worried, however.

A recent edition the K-State Research and Extension Horticultural newsletter told the story.

Spring blooming plants continue to grow through the summer after their bloom season. As sunlight hours dwindle and the weather becomes colder the plants go into dormancy.

This year the periods of hot, dry summer weather sent them into an early dormancy. When the weather became more hospitable, they broke dormancy and bloomed. Unfortunately, that means they're unlikely to bloom at their appropriate time, or at least not as prolifically as usual.

Don't plead. You can do nothing about it but give them tender, loving care.

I was a prolific writer (had to be because I worked for a newspaper) and even enjoyed writing. I found inspiration all over the place and wrote both prose and poetry, fiction and non-fiction. I also wrote a gardening column for my newspaper, which I loved, and started this blog.

However, several years ago, the gardening column stopped being fun. My other writing dwindled. Something caused it to drop petals and seemingly die, forced it into dormancy.

I wondered if I really was a writer anymore. But I had ideas and had writing projects collecting dust. I felt old and incomplete.

Gradually, however, green shoots sprang up.

A little leaf here and there.

Now buds are forming.

 This blog is beginning to green up.

Blossoms are coming. 

No poetry yet, but I think the roots are growing. They just need a bit of nourishment.

Fallowness can bring good things, if one doesn't wallow and moan. I'm starting to feel like bits and pieces of me are coming back, brighter and wiser, perhaps.

I'm breaking dormancy and ready to bloom again.

What's Going On

A lot is going on at our little homestead.

Kale, collards, arugula, brussels sprouts for greens, "spring" radishes, purple daikons, and some winter radishes, as well as cilantro. The little garden beds also sprout lettuce, but it's been a tough go getting that to grow, for some reason.

And then this (see above) has happened.

The retaining wall for the garden area in front of our house is finished. (Trumpets and cheers!)

It's beautiful, and I couldn't help but show it off.

The actual garden area in front is still a bit rough and a long way from being ready to plant, but it's getting there. As soon as the pile of gravel gets transported to the back yard for our tanks, and the little piles of rock are moved, we'll bring in a load of dirt and rabbit poop to till in. We may do some "lasagna" gardening then to make sure the vinca is dead, then determine where the paths will go.

Still lots to do, such as planting buffalo grass on the paths in the spring, and planting the landscape plants on the lower tier.

But much progress has occurred and I will keep you posted. 

My next task is to cut herbs to dry and bring the terra cotta pots under cover, although I'm not sure where I'll put them. The garage is full and they're too heavy to take up the ladder to the attic. I might have an idea here, but I'll see how it works.

This afternoon I'll get some oak logs to cut up for the bottoms of our tank garden. I'll cover the subject of hugelkulture in stock tanks for growing. That deserves its own post and photos. This will be a first for me, and I'm excited.

Much has occurred and much has yet to be done. 

When we had conversations about moving from our country place I felt reluctant because I did not want to start everything over. However, I am excited about the building process here, trying new things and seeing how much I can grow in our small (to me) space.

Loving it.

Updates to come.💖

Light

 

The waffle clouds glowed orange-pink in the morning sunlight as I sat out front sipping coffee.

Three crows flew in, resting a moment in a tree, then flew off. That felt like a blessing.

Something quietly exploded inside me, not like bombs and disaster, but like fireworks and celebration. A brilliant light of quiet joy opened a channel. Ascension?

A neighbor pulled out of her driveway to take her children to school. She stopped at the entrance to the street where a hole had been dug when the water main broke Sunday evening. She and her 10-year-old daughter got out and took the skeleton resting against a tree and leaned it on the fire hydrant that workers had left in their yard, standing tall on its pipe that had previously been buried in the ground. Later, when I took my walk, I giggled when I saw the skeleton grinning and waving at passersby.

Seeing the young girl doing that with her mother took me back almost 60 years to when my parents were contemplating repainting our house and asked me, an 11- or 12-year-old what color I thought we should paint it. My young girl self felt so proud and mature with that small question that I wrote it in my diary. I had been invited into a small bit of maturity. I wondered if that young neighbor girl also felt a sense of impending maturity in stepping out with her mother to do something silly.

The sky brightened into pastels as I sat on two stacked pallets sipping coffee. Joy and Light continuing to expand inside me as light brightened in front of me. I wandered to the backyard that contains my little gardens and sat watching the sun turn the tops of the trees in the adjoining woods golden.

Ascension.

Joy. Peace. Holy, holy.

Peace

 

When we first began contemplating selling our country home, I sat on a stone in the middle of our big garden and wondered if I would be able find a connection to nature in town. I kept telling myself I should be able to connect with Nature anywhere. But I couldn't quite believe it.

Later, after selling the 30 acres we moved into a neighbor's basement with a view of oak woods and horse pasture. While watching her horses peacefully grazing one morning, I wondered if I would be able to find that kind of peace again.

I have.

Gazing at the woods one day before we moved everything in I found that peace and connection with Nature -- with the trees, and other beings there. Birdsong predominated even though I could hear distant traffic.

A couple of evenings ago I went to the backyard, where we had just planted a fair sized witch hazel and felt such deep peace -- even as a neighbor boy practiced his drumming in the garage next door.

Peace and connection are not dependent on where you are or what you hear.

Both are something that begin inside, in the heart, in the Soul.

What I kept trying to tell myself earlier is Truth. I am not separate from Nature, for I am Nature. We humans are animals born from this Earth. Can we, will we remember that?

And Peace is always inside us, we simply need to look for it there.

I try to pray for Peace in the world every night at 8 pm.

First: Peace be in my Heart.

Then: Peace be in every Heart.

Peace, Peace, Peace.

Then I sing, "Dona, Nobis Pacem Pacem."

"Grant us Peace."

Will you join me?

PS The photo is of berries growing on large shrubs at the edge of the woods that I have been unable to identify. If you know what the shrub is, please share.

Abundance and Blessings

 

Abundance is Everywhere...

A plethora of little cherry tomatoes, the last of this season...

A dense growth of young kale (that I started thinning today) for fall harvest...

Good neighbors, good friends, good family surrounding us...

People willing to help in so many ways, if we just ask... sometimes even when we don't ask...

Too often we feel we are in poverty because we don't see the blessings and abundance surrounding us, and running through our lives like threads of gold.

But we are surrounded by abundance, regardless of any lack in our lives.

We simply need to look for it.

I certainly am not perfect in this. I focus so intensely on one aspect of my life where I feel a lack that I fail to recognize what it represents, and to give thanks for what it means to my continued health. It is an opportunity, not a lack. My perspective and expectations make it seem like poverty.

It is not. It is a blessing.

Blessings and abundance fill my life, if I simply pay attention, notice what they are... Some things fall apart, so we need to cast our gaze on what is going well... even if it is small...

In general, my tomatoes did not do well this year. I had none to dehydrate or freeze.

But these cherry tomatoes (Sun Peach) did quite well and continue to give their all. Most likely they will continue to do so until cold weather steps in.

Abundance may come in small ways, but it is abundance still.

Thank you.

Doorways and Portals

An entrance to another realm?

  "A Door is Opening."

The Autumnal Equinox has long been celebrated as the main Harvest Festival. For many, many years I've considered it to be a Thanksgiving festival and celebrated it with others, putting together a special feast we shared. 

The Equinox occurred a week ago and I did not meet with others for a feast. Instead I participated in a virtual guided meditation that began at the moment of the Equinox, when the Sun reached the halfway point between its position in the Sky at the two Solstices. 

As soon as I settled into a meditative statement the phrase "A Door is Opening..." came into my mind.

In a sense the Equinox is a moment of balance between the light and dark halves of the year.

At Summer Solstice the Sun began its descent toward the southern horizon, heading toward the Winter Solstice.

From a past Equinox celebration.

The changing of the season is obvious now as the Sun sets much earlier, almost full dark by 8 pm, and rises later. I can now easily rise before the Sun.

I love going outside in the gray morning light to sip my coffee. I'm almost disappointed when the Sun tops the trees,  chasing away the twilight.

The Day begins. A door opens...

The Door opens to new possibilities...

Blessings...

Challenges...

The new day will hold them all. If I am well grounded I will face both with stability and presence. I do not face all the challenges well right now, but each one gives me another opportunity.

For I do have a choice as to how I face each one. It's a matter of perspective.

I root deeply, raising my arms to the Sky in Prayer.

Each challenge is an opportunity to grow, to strengthen our resolve... power lifting for our Spirit.

When challenges create difficulty in maintaining calm, continuing with healing myself, doing my daily spiritual practices, and finding gratitude I often feel that I can't, or don't want to do those things. 

It's easy to find stillness within, to face the world with Love, to express Gratitude when all is well. When challenges arise and things fall apart, however, that is when we most need to find the will to do them.

Stay grounded. Dwell in Love.

I don't know what the next few years will bring, or the next few days. I don't even know for certain what words I will write next.

If I remain grounded, rooted in Spirit I might not like what comes, but I will be guided to move through as best as I can. And find something good.

When I sit outside in the backyard I delight in watching squirrels scurry through the trees, and the much rarer appearance of little chipmunks. The birds sing to me and call to their mates or sound warnings. This grounds and heals me.

Kale in my new garden, promising an
abundant harvest.

My little garden fills with green, promising future feasts of kale, collards, brussels sprouts greens, lettuce and radishes. I am grateful for the abundance as I watch the summer crops fade.

This is my joy... my Joy.

The Summer's abundance is gone, but now we harvest long-storing foods that nourished our ancestors through the Winter...

Apples, nuts, winter squashes, and a number of root vegetables. I look forward to fermenting winter radishes and cooking and freezing the greens.

Leaves fall. The squirrels know Winter is not far. They fatten themselves on the abundance of nuts, and store many for the leaner days.

Leaves fall and a door opens. What will I see through that portal? What will I find if I step through?

Will I step through?

The Choice is Mine. I create my World, the World.

Step through with Purpose, Intention, and Love.

A Door is Opening.

Moving Forward

 

This sight makes me happy.

Three months after moving, I finally have a garden again.

Yesterday I went out early in the morning and finished planting the tilled areas with leafy greens for fall harvest. At the time of this photo moisture fell from the sky.... finally, after three weeks of not even a sprinkle and unusually hot temperatures. Today we're in the low to mid-80s (Fahrenheit). Aaaahhh.

Leaves rain from the from the trees. 

Two days ago I planted kale, brussels sprouts for their greens, collards, winter radishes, aind cilantro. Everything has started sprouting -- except the cilantro, which is always pokey. Yesterday it was arugula and more kale. I expect they'll be popping up tomorrow.

What's left of the summer garden. Eggplants have done well.
I'm still waiting for the bell peppers to ripen. The tomatoes
did not do great, although the little cherry ones (Sun Peach)
have done fine.

Once the fourth bed is tilled and prepped, I'll fill it with lettuce and "spring" radishes that will fill out sooner than the winter radishes.

It feels good, a relief to finally put a garden in. I've had the summer veggies growing in big plastic tubs, but having seeds scattered on the earth feels so good. 

We're home.

Building from the Ground Up

A lot has happened since my last post.

Everything has changed.

On May 1, I expressed my excitement about pulling the first pretty little radishes from the small garden our landlady allowed us to till in the yard near the entrance to our basement rental. The tilling was done on New Year's Eve, and provided us with greens and a few sugar snap peas along with the radishes.

I planted some tomatoes in that area, but I dug them up and transferred them to the large tubs that I had been using for my garden since a year ago when we decided to sell our beloved 30 acres in order to move to a smaller space with less of a work load. In my July 17, 2025 post I discussed our decision to sell, then the sale, and the transition to the neighbor's basement, which was not, nor was it intended to be our final destination.

In the spring, our search was on again. at the end of May we found our home, a small berm house on top of a hill at the end of a small cul-de-sac in Lawrence, Kansas. A sweet, sweet spot.

We rejected the house the first time we looked at it, partly because it was more than we wanted to pay, and partly because, at first glance it had features I didn't particularly like.

The price dropped, and we decided to look at it again.

And I wondered why I didn't like the features that had bothered me the first time. What really clinched the sale was that the seller, who had lived there for 20 years and rented it the past 15 years, had not quite finished sweeping and tidying the front of the house.

Meeting her made a huge difference in my mind. She told about the history of the house in her experience and repeatedly said how much she had loved the house. We fell in love with the house through her. 

We closed in early June and immediately started moving things in, having it set up well enough to sleep there within a few days. But before we had even moved in, we started meeting neighbors and discovered that the house was not the only thing to love here. The neighbors are wonderful The neighborhood is beautiful, with many houses having front yards containing native plants, other flowers, and even vegetable gardens. I am in Heaven.

A feral woodland edges the back of our backyard, providing plenty of birds, squirrels, rabbits, chipmunks -- and I even saw a fox one morning. 

I wondered if I could find peacefulness living in town. When I sit in the backyard looking toward the woods, in spite of distant traffic noise, it is peaceful. 

We have finally gotten the inside of the house organized enough to start building garden space.

The above photo is how the "garden" looked a week ago, but it has changed every day. In another week, we'll have four 10-foot, by 4-foot beds tilled and, I hope, planted for fall harvest. Short season things, of course, such as kale, lettuce, bok choy and other leafy greens.

I will keep you updated. The heat has been brutal the past couple of weeks, but change is promised, so things will move more quickly when I don't have to limit my outdoor work to morning.

See you in a couple of days.

 

Radishes!

 I have waited and waited.

Checking once, twice and again to see if any radish roots were enlarging. Each check ended in disappointment...

Until a few days ago when I found these little beauties. A couple of days later I found a few more. 

Sigh of contentment.

Once the roots begin to enlarge, it seems the harvest comes quickly. Some varieties of radishes with longer growing seasons still haven't sized up yet, but they will. Unless the seed packet lied and they don't do well with a spring planting. Seed is left yet, so I'll try again in fall, regardless.

I love radishes. I don't know why I find them so appealing. Is it their crunch, their color, their hint (sometimes more than a hint) of spiciness?

(Shrug). Whatever. They do feel therapeutic, like they are something I need to eat. 

I do love radishes, especially my homegrown ones.

Something's in the Air

 The other day I walked up the driveway and caught a whiff of something fragrant.

I paused and sniffed the air, looking around for the source.

The columbines offer no fragrance, but are lovely.

First I saw the deep purple iris. Then I noticed the big patch of lily of the valley. I looked up and there was the lilac bush, blooming sparsely, but blooming nonetheless. I stuck my nose in close proximity to each type of bloom. Each type of bloom emitted a luscious fragrance, each with its own character. 

Delightful. 

But the few blossoms on the lilac bush were the one releasing their fragrance in enough quantity to be inhaled from 10 feet or so. The scents lifted my spirits.

Today when I took my walk I passed through another pool of luscious fragrance. I could not discover its source, though. Possibly it came from something with inconspicuous flowers. A nearby spirea full of little white blossoms gave out no fragrance. So it will remain a mystery. Until tomorrow, maybe.

Always pay attention.

Plant Happy

This warm, sunny was perfect for hanging laundry on the line strung between the posts on the porch, and potting up little plants in between washer loads. What a happy day for me. Mysteriously, I really enjoy laundry day (every Monday), especially on warm days so things dry quickly on the line. And this was a stellar laundry day, as everything is folded and put away already.

I potted up some of the eggplants and peppers that had stalled out at about an inch tall. I'm hoping that this little disturbance of changing their pots will stimulate growth. Saturday and Sunday mornings the temperature fell into the 30s F., with patchy frost predicted for Sunday morning. I pulled all the porch plants closer to the wall and threw a sheet over the most tender ones on Friday evening, then brought the tender ones inside Saturday night.

They should have come in on Friday, because the leaves of some of the really tender ones -- namely the baby cukes and bitter melons -- got burned just by the chilly breeze that blew. I'm sure they'll come out of it, but they'd be happier if I had taken better care. 

Had to show off this year's strawberry patch.

Today I checked the little radishes in the garden for enlarging roots. Nothing yet. Sigh. 

However, the lettuces on the porch are looking almost ready to eat. This batch grows in the bottom eight inches of a plastic garbage can. I cut it off a long time ago so I could use the upper portion as a bottomless container for something. Then this part was used for various other things until I decided last summer to drill holes in the bottom and use it as a planter. It's worked wonderfully. 

These lettuce plants were purchased at a nursery so I could have pretty plants for the Master Gardeners Garden show last month. These are a butterhead lettuce that forms loose heads, so they're not quite there yet. But we have plenty of  grocery store lettuce to last us a few days. Maybe they'll be ready by the time that's gone. 

The plants that I put out in the garden look more likely to head, but they're much smaller. Plus, several of them got taken out by cutworms. From now on, any transplants that go into the garden will be accessorized with cutworm collars. That is, sections of toilet paper inner rolls buried an inch deep with at least an inch above ground. This has successfully thwarted the cutworms in the past. 

The little lettuce seedlings in front of the bigger lettuces in this photo are a variety called Tom Thumb, a mini-romaine. I'm eager to see them grow.

And now the cabbage white butterfly caterpillars are hatching. They've chewed on my tub broccolis. So tomorrow I bring out the sprayer and the Bt. Along with the broccoli, I'll spray the bok choy and Chinese cabbage seedlings, as well as the kale and collards. 

Tomorrow promises to be another beautiful day, so I'll be out playing with plants again.

A Different View

 Gardening looks much different for me this year.

It's not simply the "every year looks different in the garden" kind of different.

This is gardening in a different place.

I've gone from hundreds of feet of raised beds, established strawberry and asparagus beds, fruit trees and berry bushes, as well as established native wild flowers and other perennials, to a 60-foot long, 5-foot wide in-ground garden bed and 20-some mineral tubs for my vegetable gardens. I also have a few smaller containers and flower pots for vegetables, flowers and herbs on the porch.

I can't grow quite the abundance that I used to, but we'll manage.

So this is what my gardening looks like this year. 

A portion of the in-ground garden mulched with hay provided by a neighbor. We tilled this strip on New Year's Eve, a perfect thing for starting the new year. Right now it contains seedlings of kale, collards, lettuce, peas and radishes.

It brings me great joy to go out in the morning and look at all of the little green things popping up.

As usual, critters besides me want a portion of the produce. Rabbits started nibbling my peas, so I wrapped row cover around the trellis to thwart them. Cutworms took out some lettuce that I had transplanted into the garden. And unexpected deep cold  threatened it all. But these things are to be expected. Any little plants I stick in the ground from now on will get cutworm collars made from the inner tube of toilet paper rolls. 

In spite of all the growth in the garden, I'm feeling impatient. I want to pull some radishes now! I have made my first harvest. A couple of days ago I thinned kale (no matter how hard I try I always scatter the seed too thickly) and kept most of the thinnings as infant kale for salads, etc. Some of them were cooked with several kinds of wild greens -- garlic mustard, dandelions, nettles and cleavers. Eat your weeds, kids!

The other part of my gardening adventure this year looks like this:

These tubs and buckets contained my summer and fall garden last year, such as it was. Our landlady did let me use part of her small garden for my winter radishes once she dug sweet potatoes and cleared a few other things. Maybe she'll let me do that this year, too... if we haven't bought a house and moved.

I have tomato, pepper and eggplant seedlings I started from seed, but they don't seem to want to grow. I will repot all of them and see if that helps. Mystifying. Frustrating. Disappointing.

It hurts my heart to have them not thriving. Maybe I planted them in the wrong sign of the Moon. I haven't paid attention to that for some time because I do so much that I just plant when I have time -- at least that's how it used to be. I'll repot them all now, while the Moon is waxing. Maybe that will help?

If planting time rolls around and they're still tiny, I'll go and buy plants. I hope they have the varieties I want. I overplanted these summer plants. I only have room for six tomato plants in the garden, and I'm not sure I have enough room in the tubs for all the peppers and eggplants. Overplanting the way I do things.

Three tubs and one bucket contain five broccoli plants. It started as six, but a cutworm (which I could not find) took one out. Some tubs also contain an abundance of mini bok choy seedlings, and I have some tiny Chinese cabbage seedlings ready to plant in one of the tubs. For some reason I'm craving bok choy and Chinese cabbage. These will become stir fries and kimchi, as well as salad ingredients. A little lettuce is in a couple of tubs, and I planted radishes and carrots in two more.

I wouldn't have considered carrots in a container, but I read an article about vegetables that will grow in containers and it listed carrots as one. Nothing to lose. 

As usual, gardening is an adventure and experiment, as well as a learning experience. Only more so this year. I'm hoping for good results and a decent harvest. Nothing is guaranteed, though, especially with the changing climate. 

Hopefulness has to be an ingrained trait of those of us who garden. We're never guaranteed that our seeds will sprout, much less grow into healthy, productive plants. But we keep planting.

Keep on planting.

Seeds

On the Eve of the Winter Solstice I hosted a party for many friends. First we wrote on slips of paper things we did not want to take into the new year, like bad habits, unhelpful thought patterns, etc. Then we threw the papers into a fire. Since it was chilly and everyone was hungry, we hurried inside where I first gave everyone colorful packets of seeds I had collected from my garden during the past couple of years. Most of the packets of native plant seeds were handed out, so what I had left were poppies and black hollyhocks, as well as a few other things.

Winter Solstice through January and early February is a good time to do a bit of winter sowing. Many of the seeds, especially the native plants, germinate better when exposed to winter's freeze-thaw cycles. You can simply toss the seeds onto the soil. I have often done this with poppy seeds.

But if you're planting something you're not familiar with, or want a little more control over where things go, try "milk jug gardening." That way you know what the seedlings are, if your soil is not contaminated with a lot of other seeds.

A decade ago I did a post about this method. Just follow the link and start collecting  clear plastic gallon containers.

And just keep planting seeds -- seeds of Hope. But don't stop there. Hope won't flourish without it's companions. So plant seeds of Peace, seeds of Compassion, seeds of Love, Generosity, Kindness -- you get the idea. 

Don't just scatter these seeds  "out" into the world, like sprinkling fairy dust trying to get other people to change. These things won't grow in the world if we don't first plant and nurture them within ourselves. Peace won't grow in the world if we, ourselves, continue to be violent in words and thoughts. You don't need to punch people to be violent.

Compassion doesn't grow in the world if we continue to be judgemental of others.

Generosity doesn't grow if we do not give of ourselves (being sure we don't over-give, of course.

Take a good like in the mirror, dive deep into yourself. Are you harboring the traits you abhor in others? Could be, just in a different form.

So don't sit there wishing the world "out there" was different. Look inside and discover what changes you must make in yourself. The cliche "Be the Change you want to See" has real meaning. Don't expect others to change if you're not willing to.

Plant the seeds in your own garden first.