Can’t Stop The Fall

I just got in from the backyard, and I’ve shut the door firmly behind me. It is October 16, well into the time when summer should be “shutting down”, but judging by the some of the plant activity, revolution is in the air.DSC_0273

This old timer carrot realizes the time has come for him to become a part of my salad. Digging in his heels will only bring him into danger of becoming flash frozen in the dirt. Who wants that?DSC_0337This elephant ear shows the color splotches he has earned during many blazing hot afternoons on a patio. We expect these signs of character by October. He has fought the good fight. The onions have turned from a foamy, lacy white to an earthy brown.DSC_0278The burning bush is showing its first red leaves.DSC_0279But while some backyard citizens are yielding gracefully to the change of season, a younger, less mature set is just starting out in life. They are budding, blossoming, perhaps frolicking in the headiness of youth, as though unaware that cool temperatures and short, dark days are just around the corner.

Naive optimism? Or plain nihilism?

Some expect to produce offspring. Will they have a chance? I wouldn’t want to say.DSC_0330

This gourd has at last appeared. He is an only child. Does he think he can halt the march of nature long enough for him to reach his full growth?DSC_0276

The tomatoes are churning out more blossoms, defying the notion that they should have been turned into mulch by now.DSC_0314

And look at this poor tomatillo, newly raised from seed after my first two attempts failed. It seems he wants to take his chances.DSC_0325

Meanwhile, the four o’clocks are blooming like it is June the sixth.DSC_0278

What can they all be thinking? Have they not seen this old grandma in her nightgown, telling all it is time for a long winter’s nap?DSC_0289But the youth…. they spurn the voice of experience.
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I’m hoping this dissension is not something organized. But when I see the reach of the hummingbird vine, I know that seditious ideas could easily be passed from one young bloom to another.DSC_0283DSC_0303They look innocent enough, but they would look that way, wouldn’t they?DSC_0274

Well, in case any of them are listening, I do not allow politics in my backyard. Swift action will be taken against any special interest groups which threaten the general ecosystem. I empathize with those who find themselves unready for the march of time, who still have big plans they will not be able to carry out when the weather changes. As an old lady who feels as spry as a cosmos bloom I too must accept that my time here is finite.
DSC_0318My message to any wannabe overthrowers in my backyard is this: No one can stop the fall.

Granulatin’ Bad

Sure. I look pretty harmless. I’m polite to the neighbors, fairly unobtrusive when I leave the house, as middle aged ladies often are. No one could look at me and know that in August, within the confines of my home, I’ve got skills, mad skills. Because when boiling sun and steamy air turn the tiny green figs into golden orbs, I’m Granulatin’. Granulatin’ Bad.

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You’re no doubt familiar with someone else who may appear mild in the outside world, but who leads a whole other life right under his neighbor’s noses. That’s right - Walter White.

Don’t think I have anything in common with Walter, or Walter with me? We’ll just see about that! Here are some similarities:

Photo Source: IMDB

Photo Source: IMDB

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Obviously we’re both bad you know whats.


1) Highly desirable product: Walter’ s blue meth is apparently the stuff of dreams. OK, fine. But you should see the eyes widen when I walk into the yoga studio with a box of twelve gleaming jars of fig preserves. Excited murmurs float across the studio. When class is over they make a beeline for every last jar. Unconditional acceptance of your product by a yoga class says only one thing: 99.1 % pure, total quality.

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2) Large amount of raw materials needed: Walter buys his in more than one location to avoid suspicion. But I HAVE to buy mine in multiple locations because no one stocks as many jars or as many boxes of pectin as I need. And unlike Walter, because I deal with a live ingredient, I can never predict the exact amount of supplies I need. They may suspect me of something at the grocery store when I dash in wearing sticky shoes and a stained T shirt and buy ALL of their eight ounce canning jars, but they know not to question me. I dare them to.
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3) Specialized work environment and equipment: We each need to set up a pristine, industrial workspace. Mine is the kitchen. Walter may have a gas chromatograph while I use a spoon and my own mouth for quality control, but the concept is the same.

My lab.

My lab.

Walter's lab. Photo courtesy of breakingbad.wiki.com

Walter’s lab. Photo courtesy of breakingbad.wiki.com

4) Total concentration: We can’t do anything else while cooking. We’re basically unreachable. When my harvest begins, I am in a flurry of picking, washing, cutting, cooking, sterilizing. My hands get too sticky to even think of touching a phone. So don’t call me. Walter and I agree that production stops when we say it stops.

5) Hazards: Yes, it is hazardous work. You are familiar with what Walter has faced through the years: beatings, torture, kidnapping, and even death. But what about me? I’ve bravely faced my share of challenges. Here is a short list:

a) Balancing on the part of an eight ladder where it says not to standDSC_0736

b) While keeping up with a bag of figs over one shoulder

These babies aren't light.

These babies aren’t light.

c) While grasping at leaves and branches and clutching them to your chest so you can pull off the figs with the other hand, sweat dripping off your brow,

d) And a swarm of mosquitoes gets close and personal with your armpits,

e) And getting down from said perch,

f) Dealing with the crazy violence that seems ubiquitous in the fig tree world

Nobody saw nothin'.

Nobody saw nothin’.

g) And even having to hide some ominous, foreshadowing symbols from my family, like this.DSC_0718

Inside the house, once I have gathered my figs I still have to endure deep, deep stickiness from spilled sugar and gooey figs, boiling water, hot pans, an extended cleanup, and last but not least, the sick feeling that comes from tasting preserves fifteen times. Let me tell you, I’ve paid my dues!

I'm tough enough to take the heat.

I’m tough enough to take the heat.

Walter and I, we’re a pair. We may threaten, cajole, and intimidate, but we get the product out. Still, we have our differences. First he sells his product for top dollar while mine is free of charge. Maybe I could sell mine, but unlike Walter I have no partner to handle the distribution end. Second, he can’t taste his product, but I can. Mr. White always uses the same recipe, while I I experiment with new flavors. This year I’ve added a little something different in every batch. Walter never divulges his recipes, but I can. I’m not trying to corner the market.

Walter in his work clothes

Walter in his work clothes. Photo: breakingbad.wiki.com

As fig season winds up, so does Walter’s last season. I don’t have a good feeling about his prospects, but he may surprise me yet. While we wait to learn his fate, won’t you try some of my fig preserves? Really. They’re free, and you won’t have to worry about going to jail!DSC_0710 Postscript: This years flavors: cinnamon, cinnamon and ginger, rosemary and port, pepper, basil, amaretto, and that’s all I can remember. Tell that to the D.E.A.

Code Orange No Longer In Effect

My friends, you have all heard the rumors of the Magpie Backyard Code Orange Security Alert we recently faced. It is true that I solved the case in only one day, which means you may now go back to all your normal activities. I am not responsible for rescheduling the Midsummer Fashion Review. But I would not object to chairing a Philosophical Debate Society so that we can mull all the ramifications of this recent event in our community while keeping alive ancient Greek and Roman oral and intellectual traditions. Oh. Just file my report.? Very Well. My confidential account is below.

Respectfully Submitted,

Mr. Biblio Turturis

Head Of Magpie Backyard Security
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TOP SECRET First of all, I never expected to be named Head of Security, and I don’t know why I was , except many were tired of the heavy handed tactics of Owlus Rusticus, who served for many years in this post. For years I have volunteered to oversee a debating society, yet the position remains unfilled.

Had he been at his job too long?

Owlus Rusticus: had he been at his job too long?

At first the season was going well. We had the usual complaints: the slums at the back of garden, vandalism by young figs on the pool deck.

These kids!

These kids!

Most of the time I could read and keep my eye on things at the same time. But two weeks ago I received a disturbing report of an unauthorized device in the compost heap.

Where the device was found, with the white part protruding like a periscope.

Where the device was found, with the white part protruding like a periscope.

It had a long white sinuous neck which protruded between decomposing issues of The New York Times. It was attached to a purple rectangle which held another rectangle inside it. There was instant unrest in the backyard. Mrs. Squash Blossom and her sisters had to be hospitalized after a bout of hysteria during which they were certain the object had grown up out of the Book Reviews, and posed a danger to their unborn children, for who knew what seditious ideas had seeped into the soil? The one known immature squash is being cared for, along with a young cucumber, by the Okra family. The Blossoms should be back to normal soon after emergency application of electrosunlight. One unripe tomato fled all the way to the end of swimming pool where it was last seen calmly sunning itself on a lawn chair.

A weeping Squash Blossom, as neighbors try to comfort her.

A weeping Squash Blossom, as neighbors try to comfort her.

The child seems unharmed.

The child seems unharmed.

This tomato removed himself to another clime.

This tomato removed himself to another clime.

The Red Hat Society, sure the object was a sign of imminent attack from outside the yard, instituted a daily watch along the southern perimeter of the fence, which they faithfully completed whenever they were awake and not playing bridge, whenever inclement weather did not threaten their hairdos, and before cocktail hour. After one day of watching they reported seeing no undesirables.

A member of the Red Hat Society on patrol.

A member of the Red Hat Society on patrol.

I had to appeal to Owlus Rusticus for help in this matter. He took a break from his new job as Pool Director, where he was busy admonishing youngsters not to congregate in the groundcover. He advised me to interview Grandfather Rosemary. And he complained about some of the skimpy bathing attire being worn this season. I couldn’t advise him on that, as I wear the same shell year after year.DSC_0736

Grandfather Rosemary has been here for at least thirteen yeas and does not scare easily.

This revered gentleman has many years of experience of supervision  around the diving board.

This revered gentleman has many years of experience of supervision around the diving board.

But he told me he had never seen such a thing come out of a compost heap in his life. Had it been spying, he wondered? That sent a chill down my shell. If the thing ( which by the way had uttered not one word since its discovery) had been sent by an adversary, I would need to coordinate with the Armed Services Committee Head, Cowboy Bob.DSC_0730

Cowboy Bob was under the influence, as usual. I could tell he’d been trying to lasso the new hanging lightbulbs on the pergola. DSC_0718And the Echinacea Girls were just egging him on, fluttering their petals and admiring his manly talk.

The Echinacea Girls using their feminine wiles.

The Echinacea Girls using their feminine wiles.

Mint has become absolutely rich betting him he can’t hit a single bulb.

He's filthy rich.

He’s filthy rich.

And night after night… Bob doesn’t remember that the night before he couldn’t hit a single bulb.

It seemed I was on my own for help. I squirmed that night in my shell, searching for answers. What was this ungodly object, and did it mean us harm? How would Brother Cadfael proceed in such a situation? Or Aristotle? I awoke early as is my routine, and made a sweep around the yard. All too aware of the need for speed, I made the circuit in just under four hours.

The Lantanan Ladies were entertaining insects, seemingly undisturbed by the Code Orange.DSC_0723

But I noticed that some of our expected summer citizens were not making much of an appearance this year. There were very few nasturtiums, for example, and the sweet potato vines I saw were certainly not as robust as in years past. Had the purple and white creature already begun to harm our ecosystem?

Upon inspection and interviews I found that the Celosians had become more bellicose than I had ever seen them. Instead of letting their fringy fur grow in unmanageable tufts, they were forming themselves into missile shapes in order to attack if needed.

A Celosian in a warlike pose.

A Celosian in a warlike pose.

And if not needed, I was told, they would try to enter the Midsummer Fashion Review in the Fake Christmas Tree category. When I told them there was no such category, I heard distinctly unhappy mutterings from the crowd. But they had given me an idea: what about newcomers in our midst?

I got ahold of these new flowers as the breeze blew them past me.

Should new citizens automatically be suspected of ill intent?

Should new citizens automatically be suspected of ill intent?

Where were they from? I yelled from the deck stairs. Lichterman Nature Center! they yelled as they blew in the other direction. A Nature Center, I mused. That seemed innocent enough. And they were scared, too. I could tell. Their posture was appalling. I think the rumors were getting to them.

Some in the community I didn’t even want to approach. Hettie Hydrangea, for example.

Hettie prefers the shade.

Hettie prefers the shade.

She’s so delicate her little blue hair just wobbles on her stalk. She couldn’t be involved in this, so why bother her? To be polite I did stop by and check on her. She seemed happily oblivious to the dangers in our community, and was happy to tell me again how she, Grandfather Rosemary , and the Figs had colonized this area thirteen years ago. And her mulch tea was refreshing.

Corrie Opsis, as one might have expected, approached me, wanting to know why the Midsummer Fashion Review could not go ahead as planned, since my investigations weren’t turning anything up.

Corrie with an unnamed relative.

Corrie with an unnamed relative.

Didn’t she know I would not be pressured? I felt for her though. With so many deadhead relatives that followed her everywhere. I’m sure she counted on the distraction.

I did hear some moaning and wailing over by where the Nolias live. And God help me, I didn’t go over there. I knew they’d be no help. Maggie and her sisters had been nothing but a hot mess ever since this Paula Deen thing came out. With Paula’s fall off the pedestal, they were sadder than a burnt fried chicken leg or a scalded chess pie.

The Nolias fell apart when they lost their role model.

The Nolias fell apart when they lost their role model.

Don’t base your self esteem on others’ lives, I always say. Reflected glory isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. Most of us thought privately that those Nolias needed to come down a peg anyway.

Finally I made my way over to Vlad. It’s short for Vladimir I think, but no one ever asks him.

Vlad thinking deep thoughts.

Vlad thinking deep thoughts.

He’s kind of the Zen Master of the Backyard. He gazes for hours at shapes, never moving except to grab a fly with his tongue and slide it in his mouth in one masterful movement.

He can contemplate something like this for hours.

He can contemplate something like this for hours.

What did he make of all this, I asked him. I didn’t expect an answer, and I didn’t get one. But what is an answer, actually ? I think I am developing some Zen-like qualities myself.

Defeated, I returned to my home perch in a potted plant. No one had seen the object since it had been removed by the Magpie the previous day. It upset us all to see the Magpie screaming like that as she tried to remove the maggots off the object which was still and silent as death. What a brave human she was for removing the device from our midst! As I reflected on this I heard a human enter the yard. It was the Magpie again. WITH THE DEVICE!!!!!

She threw it carelessly onto the patio behind me. Maybe its bones were broken now. Luckily my neck can go in all directions so I was able to observe her getting the hose and spraying off the purple part. I held my breath in fear that the object would detonate or release poisonous toxins. I heard her take a picture of the hideous thing with her phone. Then she called someone and said, “Do you remember when I lost my Kindle? You’ll never believe where I found it!”

The creature that had secreted itself in the compost heap.

The creature that had secreted itself in the compost heap.

And just like that, I solved the case. Code Orange Averted!

Spring Fashion Preview

It’s early days here in the South, as far as spring weather goes. We endured a blustery rainy March and early April which has just now given way to a few golden temperate days. I have risked exposing myself to a mushroom cloud of pollen lately JUST so I can get a first hand look at what well-dressed flowers will be wearing this season. A magpie will do anything for fashion!

Keep in mind that most flowers haven’t even made their appearances; this is just a preview of the early comers. I have assured all the seeds, tubers, bulbs, and seedlings on my property that this is NOT the final word. They’re a competitive bunch. As the season progresses I will be documenting ALL the fashion exploits in my back yard. Magpies don’t discriminate!

Without further ado, here are the early spring beauties. Ahem. In no particular order. Feel free to have some refreshments while you watch!DSC_0460 This little lady, a member of the groundcover family, strikes a casual pose against what is for her, a brick wall. She is dressed in a carefree frock of lavender, white, and goldenrod, with handbag to match. She is younger than many of her fellow flowers, and prefers to run in a pack. This is a rare individual shot.DSC_0476 Our next model is Scarlet Dahlia. She personifies simple, classic design with her red pleated ruff and brilliant yellow center. Her timeless look will always be in style. Scarlet leads a busy life, organizing teas, showers and the like for ladies of a certain social stature. And I’m sure she doesn’t have to do her own ironing. DSC_0477

Some were surprised to see Miss Mary Gold in our fashion lineup. In the South she is thought of as a workhorse, protecting tomato plants from pests, rather than performing the role of fashion maven. I am pleased she had enough self esteem to put herself forward. Her brilliant orange and yellow ruffles are elegant. She reminds us that her species is used as a wedding decoration in India.DSC_0492

This frail lady, a Japanese Snowball, is another surprise in today’s event. She was seriously ill last summer and almost lost her life. Her branches were ravaged by a vicious outbreak of some sort of gross insect. Her condition was critical. I don’t mean to gossip but she had to have entire branches amputated. She looks delicate in this creamy white, but don’t underestimate her; she’s a fighter!DSC_0472 I must say that purple and gold combinations are all the rage this year! Here is Miss Spiderwort, arrayed in periwinkle and gold. The deep green stems and leaves show off her complexion perfectly. Miss Spiderwort works at her posture constantly, as the gold filaments she wears are quite heavy. She enjoys tennis and other sports during the day, but by dusk she has withdrawn into herself, to rest until morning.DSC_0443 A relative latecomer to this revue is Miss Pink Dahlia. She is the niece of Miss Scarlet Dahlia, who is kind enough to have her visit each summer. I don’t know the specifics, but I heard Miss Pink has a difficult home situation. In fact she arrived this year a little worse for wear. Miss Scarlet intimated that Miss Pink would perk right up after some brush up etiquette lessons. But for now she is a vision in variegated shades of pink.DSC_0448May I introduce Miss Woodland Violet? She is the first true shade lover to appear in flower this year. Her hourglass figure is set off by a dainty lavender shade. She is a tidy little thing. Even her accompanying leaves are arranged impeccably. She runs a tight ship.DSC_0442 I am not going to tolerate any negative talk about our last model. Some of the girls have actually called her “trash” and “a possible weed.” I admit I do not know her provenance, but I can see she has worked her heart out for today’s revue. She is dressed in a jaunty orange and yellow print, with an oversized yellow button at the right hand side. The large, even clunky accessory adds whimsy to the ensemble. Miss No Name certainly has an eye for fashion.

And there they are, ladies and gentlemen! Can we have a round of applause for these fashion forward ladies? I hope we’ll get to interview each one personally this season. For now though, we admire their bold fashion sense. You’re going to see their signature looks copied over and over this season. Just remember: you saw it on MIndful Magpie first!

Magpie Monday

Every so often, from some unknown source, magic fairy dust sprinkles down on me to make the day a Magpie Day. On Magpie Days I flit from one shiny little activity to another, which in itself sounds like one of my favorite days, but there’s more. On Magpie Days, everything is shiny!

I used to think the days happened because I just happened to be at home on a beautiful day, or because I didn’t have a lot of scheduled meetings, or because stayed in my pajamas until noon. My research, however, has proven my theories incorrect. In the interests of science I will confess here that on many days I have stayed home, but found the day tedious. On other days I have had no appointments, yet spent the day in a decidedly inglorious fashion, sorting through mismatched socks and piles of old papers. And experience has shown that spending the day one’s pajamas does not necessarily lead to a state of heightened awareness.

Just yesterday morning I came to realize the futility of trying to predict the likelihood of a Magpie Day. I was preparing to cook some brussels sprouts I had had in the refrigerator for a week. My shins and ankles were sore from having worn, for a special occasion, a pair of black strappy heels the night before. Newspapers and mail were strewn all over the countertop in a way that normally causes me to feel paralyzed with ennui.

Thus far the day was not promising, Yet, as I tossed the brussels sprouts with ghee in the saucepan, a little voice from somewhere urged, “Go get your camera.” With those four magic words, Magpie Day was ON. As I joyfully scurried around the kitchen tending to my brussels sprouts, the detritus spread on the countertops seemed to melt away. ( Actually I cleaned it up.)

Brussels sprouts ingredients.

Brussels sprouts ingredients.

DSC_0339Removing the newspapers made me think I really should add some coffee grounds and paper to the soil of my dormant garden. While the sprouts simmered inside, I yanked up weeds to prepare a place to spread my amendments, and right there, among the early weeds was a darling sliver of lettuce. Naturally I had to run in the house and fetch my camera.

How did this darling live through the winter?

How did this darling live through the winter?

Greens are hardy as ever.

Greens are hardy as ever.

I never get tired of watching the light come through the pergola.

I never get tired of watching the light come through the pergola.

Time didn’t actually stop for me, but it seemed to on Magpie Day. What could be more luxurious than feeling an abundance of time in which to be absolutely in each moment? For whatever reason, that is how my day was yesterday. I was inside; I was outside. I was upstairs making plans for my niece’s portrait. I was downstairs writing a letter to my sister. I was getting ready for yoga; I was face timing my daughter. And it was timeless.

Letter to my sister.

Letter to my sister.

Of course there was time to read. That is a default activity.

Of course there was time to read. That is a default activity.

And time to learn a few new Turkish words. Hello!

And time to learn a few new Turkish words. Hello!

I need to take that color wheel upstairs where I keep my paint. And I need some new paint.

I need to take that color wheel upstairs where I keep my paint. And I need some new paint.

AND this cute top came in the mail!

AND this cute top came in the mail!

The narrative of my day would not matter to anyone else but me. I accomplished nothing fit for my memoirs, but I will remember the peace, the joy, and the process of yesterday for a long time. No, Magpie Days cannot be predicted or planned, only enjoyed and savored. I’m up for that. How about you? Any Magpie Days lately?

In the yoga studio.

In the yoga studio.

Fall: A Quiet Welcome

Shhh! The weather has ears! Pass it on! Don’t let your neighbors, after a day of vigorous gardening exult about the glorious moderate temperatures we are having here in the South. Stop your spouse before he can say out loud how invigorated he feels after washing the cars in the perky sunshine. Write in your journal; don’t talk about the delicate breezes you felt this morning on the patio, or that you could sit on the patio at all. Because we all know that speaking in superlative terms about the glorious fall weather causes the crisp, clean air to devolve into a sticky miasma, the carefree butterflies to be replaced with menacing mosquitoes, and the rays of the sun to turn from a soft blanket into a relentless roasting ember.

After a lifetime in the South, I know to take advantage of the brief weather respites, quickly and quietly. Excruciating heat is always right around the corner, and it is not too late for us to have more of it. This past Saturday morning, finding myself with no other pressing duties, I slipped out of the house with my camera, walking very softly, in shoes that covered my toes instead of flip flops.

The mission was to enjoy oops, observe how my plants were faring thus far in October. Would I find that my plants had survived the summer making the best of things with their heads facing down for protection from the sun? Had some been able to revive themselves after a recent rain? Had others, largely untended by me, given up the struggle? Which of my so enthusiastically placed plants would live to brave another summer? Here are the results!

First I contemplated the gourd vines. After some weeks of thinking I was watering them for no purpose, baby gourds have appeared! I don’t think they will grow to cover the pergola this year as originally planned.

But that’s alright with me. I think the pergola is lovely all by itself.

These asters are making a late appearance. The Four O’Clocks are going strong. These came up from seed.There is still lots of trusty Century Vine.

I’ll be expecting more peppers and okra. I’ve had some lovely eggplants too but I didn’t see any new blossoms on them. These cosmos of course are not ready to give up the ghost. I planted these from seed and they grew six feet tall even after I trimmed them back several times.The sweet potato vine is vigorous, and adding nice color and texture to the pool deck.There is no shortage of lantana blooms. I think the plant is trying extra hard to be pleasing, as it barely escaped being uprooted and sent , like an unruly child, to North Carolina this summer.But fig season is certainly over. The changing leaves will not be far behind.

As long as everyone knows I am whispering to avoid an adverse change in weather I will confess that I never feel so alive as I do in the fall. The very air with its nippy breezes suggests change and excitement. The swirling gold and orange leaves glow with brilliance. The mornings may be cool, but when the sun comes up we will be bathed in warmth that is just the right temperature. For the moment my garden is enjoying all of this right along with me. I hope you enjoy it as well!

Project Pergola

I think it is safe to say this out loud now, so here goes… Two of the worst eyesores in my my yard are about to be eliminated! Yee Hah! To provide some useful background, we moved into this house with the definite plan to put in a pool. This project necessitated the cutting down of the few scraggly trees that were already in the yard. For some time afterward we had to live with a stark, shadeless back yard until the new plantings matured. We really focused on the beds around the pool and on growing some privacy around the perimeter of the yard.

In the process the poor pitiful patio next to the house was neglected. In fact, we even cut part of it off in order to make room for a retaining wall for the pool which is at a lower level than the patio. As a further insult, a few years later we built a wooden deck under some trees we had put in after the pool construction. As time went on, the little patio sat unused, baking in the afternoon sun. Here it is, anchored by a topless wrought iron table ( The glass shattered during a storm.) and some surplus lawn chairs.

This picture was taken in he morning, so you don’t get the full sense of how relentlessly the sun bears down and heats up the area until I’m pretty sure I could bake a pizza on the surface. My sister has in fact. spread wet towels and bathing suits directly on it and found it to be a most efficient dryer. Could I be the only person who anthropomorphizes a patio? I actually avoid looking at it because it seems to be in such pain. “Shade me!” it begs.

And now the second eyesore of the yard: the overgrown beds next to the house. When we moved into the house, the beds were full of grass, along with some plants which at that time I was loath to sacrifice. For that reason in addition to the sheer unsavoriness of the task, I have avoided completely gutting the entire bed. Just look at this travesty. I put the newspapers there to see if they would kill the marauding grass.

The combination of the patio and the overgrown beds is just too much to take. Every year we say how awful it is, and how unbearable, and then other more urgent projects are taken care of, until it is just too late to do much about it this year. Then we assure ourselves we’ll tackle next year. Ah yes, next year.

But guess what? Next year has arrived! In the next week we will be putting in a pergola to make the patio area usable again, and gutting the flower bed. In fact we have already begun. Since you have seen the ugly flower bed shots, here are a few of my progress in that arena.

This is one end of the bed after I wet down the dirt and pulled out everything except that lantana, which I am saving to give to my sister. I gave away the rosebush to another gardening friend. I am trying to save some iris, red hot poker and daylillies. I don’t know if they’ll make it.

After digging up everything in the bed, I covered it all with a thick layer of mown grass.

Then I covered the grass with a layer of pine bark mulch. I’ve got some more bed space still to be done but the change is underway. In a few more days I should have the rest of the bed cleaned out, and ready for whatever new garden plans should suggest themselves once the pergola is complete. And the pergola is coming, with its benevolent shade. Hang on, little patio; help is on its way.