reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: garden


by Leave a comment

stunning, after all. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

the first. these are the first peppers we have ever grown and we are sort of stunned by them. because they are really real-live peppers!!

when we purchased the plants, they were on clearance at lowe’s. we bought our basil and parsley plants there and, as we wandered around – a tiny bit late in the early summer planting season – a few pepper plants spoke to us. on our potting stand are three pepper pots – a jalapeño, a red chili and this snack red pepper. because we are budget-conscious, we worried about the cost of failing. but, in the end, we thought it was worth the risk…this first attempt at pepper-growing. plus it helped that there were a few buds on the plants by the time we purchased them; it made us think that maybe we stood at least a chance of being successful.

and now…here we are. there are two jalapeños and multiple red snack peppers ready to be harvested and we are truly stunned. the red snacks and a jalapeño will become part of a meal we will share with 20 – stars in our fajitas. it will be a proud moment for us and we’ll be grateful for the amazement of growing our own food, just like we were with the batches of pesto (red and genovese) we made and froze last week.

we spent monday at the chicago botanic garden this week. each time we visit we are wowed by a different spot in the garden, a different grouping, a different extraordinary flower, beauty after beauty. david remarked about how much he loved the english walled garden. he said that if he were to build and plant a garden today he would plant a walled garden. i laughed and pointed out that our backyard is kind of like a walled garden. we don’t have the same level of order or discipline in our garden – for, along with our pond, there are ornamental grasses and peonies, ferns, day lilies and hosta planted slightly more haphazardly, but it is mostly walled in by the back and side fence, the garage serving as a perimeter. there is a privacy afforded, a quietness.

we sit at our bistro table or in our infamous adirondack chairs and watch our birds and squirrels and chippies. we share time and space and life with our dogga. and our barnwood potting stand – adjacent to the deck and the patio – is a place of tiny miracles.

we could have shied away from trying peppers, even at their discounted price. we could have worried that we would not bring them to fruition, that we would not be successful pepper-planters.

instead, we tried something new.

and these gloriously red peppers in tomorrow’s fajitas will remind us – once again – that life is there for the trying. it is not in the certainty of succeeding that we live. it is in risking. it is in anticipation. it is in mystery. it’s all really quite stunning, after all.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a tip-jar website where you may directly impact the continuing creating of artists whose work is important to you.


by Leave a comment

peonies in the sky. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i have sixty-three recent photos of our peonies. to say i love them would be an understatement. they have endeared themselves to me and i’m craaazy about them.

the other photos are more “normal” – they are taken at eye level with the peony or a photo of their generous flower – they are moments capturing raindrops on fragile hot pink petals. they are pictures of tightly-wound buds and sunlight escaping from an early blossom. they are peonies in full regalia.

because i have so many photographs of them it seems obvious to look for a new perspective. “the real voyage of discovery consists, not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.” (marcel proust)

so i knelt down and put my iphone on selfie mode, held the camera under the peony flowers and clicked peonies in the sky. because our world tends to be a from-the-top-down, house-stage world, it seems prudent to look from the bottom-up sometimes. it changes things.

the juxtaposition of color is intense. it takes away the denseness – and the greenness – of the whole plant. it focuses on the individual flowers, on their stems.

i’m not really fond of this photo shoot so much. i prefer the other 57 i took up-close-and-personal with my precious peonies. but it’s a good reminder to step back and look at peonies from many aspects. they will look a tad bit different depending on the surroundings, depending on the background. they will blend in and they will stand out. they will be one-of-many and they will be the star-of-the-show. each peony may be appreciated in different ways, in different contexts, for different reasons. with new eyes.

not unlike people.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a tip-jar website where you may support the continuing creating of artists whose work is meaningful to you. ♡


by 1 Comment

herbs and children. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

parsley and rosemary. in what would seem their prime, it was time to harvest, for another frost might damage them and a freeze most certainly would. we covered them – along with the basil and the mint and the lavender – but it’s november and it’s wisconsin, so it was time to make some other choices. because it’s what we do, i researched. and then, with snippers, went out and snipped off stems, laying them gently on a cookie sheet so that i might freeze them and pull them out mid-winter to use: fresh herbs in the winter from our own potting stand will remind me that spring will, yes, arrive again.

and yes, i know it’s simple to run to the grocery store and pick up a fresh bundle of parsley and one of those little plastic containers of rosemary. but there is something to be said for these herbs that we grew, that gave us so much joy to watch as they flourished this summer. we simply bought them at lowe’s, planted them in good soil in good old clay pots, placed them in the sun, watered them as needed. and we celebrated them as they grew. mighty and strong.

it’s a little like children. you try your best to plant them in good soil, in solid but permeable pots, expose them to the sun and nutrients as they need them. and they flourish. and one day you are watching your daughter fly down the biggest mountain run in summit county – one of the highest inbound ski terrains in north america – on a snowboard, her skills generously coaching and instructing others. and another day you are watching your son’s hands fly across the mixer board, spinning electronic dance music, bringing elation – even rapture – to beautiful people expressing the freedom and joy of living. and then another day and another and another…mighty and strong.

it’s good dirt, a good pot, sun, nutrients. celebration.

and a whole lot of love.

maybe next year we’ll also plant sage and thyme – to complete the old folk song that goes through my mind every time i think of parsley and rosemary.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation “tip jar” website where you may help support the continuing work of the artists you value. xoxo.


by 1 Comment

our spiffy hose. [kerri’s blog on d.r. thursday]

we were hose-holdouts. we had those hard rubber (and some hard plastic) hoses that are just difficult to deal with – the kind that bend back on themselves and kink and stop the waterflow (which, of course, is their entire role in life). one of them was attached to one of those hose rollup reel thingies that has a handle and you roll the hose onto it, trying to guide it into place (because it all somehow reels into the same spot) while simultaneously getting wet and muddy from the hose which is supposed to just easily glide into place on the rollup thingie.

we admired other people’s gardenhoses. they had nifty wrinkled-up expandable miracle hoses. they had lightweight-rubber-hoses-that-never-kinked. they had expandable-retractable hoses of many colors. we were in hose-envy with no hose-budget.

until one day.

the amazon guy left a couple boxes out in front of our door. now, this is a very exciting day. we order little and so we are ridiculously excited to see a box on our doorstep. truly, ridiculously.

two boxes. one was the spiffiest 50′ expandable hose – lightweight, all curled up like a sleeping garden snake, ready to take on our backyard. the other box had a bright neon green watering wand, which has to be one of the best inventions of all time. gifts from one of my beautiful nieces, we did a we’re-catching-up-in-the-world happy dance and relieved the heavy old hose from its duty on our deck.

it makes a difference, i must say. one wants to spend time watering with a hose that isn’t like lugging the entire water table along behind you sans sherpa-help. the wand is truly amazing (and i know we must be many years behind with this one, having been the proud owners of handheld nozzles for a bazillion years – the kinds that invariably don’t seal properly onto the hose screwtop receiver and spray sideways all over you as you attempt to use it.)

now, i stand calmly and peacefully – even zen-like – with my watering wand and obedient expandable-retractable-lightweight-miracle-hose and move from spot to spot in the backyard. i gently and tenderly – without jerking the hose along – sprinkle my herbs and rain down on our ornamental grasses and ferns.

everything has benefited from this combo. but mostly me.

the simplest upgrade-change – something newfangled! – has made a difference in a chore. it has made it a gift of slowing-down-time, of appreciating the growth of our gardens around us, a kind of meditation.

mostly, we have entered the twenty-first century of hoses. and we are feeling like the cat’s meow.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

MEDITATION acrylic 48″x48″

buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation site where you may help to support the continuing creation of work you value by artists you love. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


by 3 Comments

cornfield. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

in the way that dads are corny, my sweet poppo was just that – a little bit corny. somehow, it seems it’s supposed to be that way. his humor was lighthearted and the way he repeated some jokes was comforting. “do you think the rain will hurt the rhubarb?” he’d quip. waiting just a few seconds, he’d respond to himself – if you didn’t beat him to it – “not if it’s in cans!!” and then he’d laugh. every time.

i think he was buying time to think when he’d quip about the rhubarb. it wasn’t like he was intently concerned about the rhubarb. matter of fact, i only remember them growing rhubarb maybe one or two years, back behind the house. and even then, it wasn’t like he was a huge rhubarb fan. i think the only way he liked it was with strawberries – in a pie.

but his jokes were harmless and predictably silly. no stand-up routine for him, he was just daddy-o, trying his best to carry on. and because he wasn’t a giant conversationalist – he turned that over to my sweet momma – he’d just fill in the gaps. “well, how do you like them apples?” he’d say.

i’m pretty sure he’d had loved the corn we grew in our backyard this summer. the squirrels and chippies had everything to do with this crop. they’d deplete the birdfeeder in mere hours, tossing kernels and seeds everywhere. i have no doubt where the cornfield came from. but it was pretty astounding to see. we suddenly became prolific mini-farmers.

it was everywhere. next to breck, our aspen. inbetween the ornamental grasses. under the birdfeeder. under the potting bench with our herbs. next to the garage. yesterday we found it in the front garden bed.

i could hear david’s dad columbus chuckle from the other side when we found it in the front garden. a cornfield-lover from way back, i figure he might have had something to do with that. we laughed as well, delighted in a – hmmm – corny kind of way.

for the longest time we left it all right where it was. there was something really pleasing about glancing out at the corn.

but then we decided it was time to pull it out, so that it wouldn’t suffocate our intentional plantings. we took pictures and then pulled it, thanking it for the entertainment it had provided.

outside on the driveway we talked to our westneighbors. we talked about our hummingbirds and our feeders and the birdbaths we had placed in our yards and the chippies and squirrels stealing seed and the birds gathering in the bushes. we were all zealous, loving the little creatures in our yards. “we’ve turned into our parents,” i noted and we all nodded and laughed.

“well, how do you like them apples?” i thought.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” donation website where you can help the artists you love continue to create the things you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


by Leave a comment

zinnia-time. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

and – just when it was beautiful enough – nature raised the bar. and the zinnia produced a round of tiny yellow flowers – a crown atop the center of the already-stunning flower. beauty squared.

it’s like adding a weep-worthy soaring cello line or a mournful french horn to a solo piano piece of music. beautiful enough, raised up.

i’ve been going through old bins in the basement, boxes in the attic. i’ve found old photos and old journals i had forgotten about: pictures of early life in new york, early life in florida. they catapult me way back in time, back to hanging out on the beach, roadtripping with my cherished friend sue, early days of choir-directing, youth groups i led. i took pictures of nearly everything, so it’s the absence of pictures of people or places or events that is noteworthy.

life isn’t always a zinnia.

and sometimes, it’s the long story that makes the short stories more bearable. we survive periods in our lives that seem unsolvable, painful, unending. years later we open the bins and see evidence of our enduring, our fortitude, even our clinging to flotsam and jetsam.

so it must be during the time in-between that we grow a second row of tiny flowers inside, ready and waiting for us, whenever we are ready for them, for those times we couldn’t see the beauty.

the weather this past weekend was stunning. with an invitation to autumn, this september saturday and sunday were blissfully sunny and cooler. a good time to sit on the back patio. a good time to marvel at the plumes on the grasses, to watch the cherry tomatoes ripen. and a good time to work in the dirt, to tend to the herbs, to take a hike, to brush the dogga, to witness the dance of the hummingbirds. in the middle of several ongoing projects – really important things that need our attention – we took the good time.

zinnia-time.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you so much. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation site where you may help support the continued work of artists you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


by 1 Comment

the wise garden. co-existing. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

and all the plants live together happily ever after.

it’s a beautiful place to just wander. the walkways through bushes you may have to duck under are not edged or over-weeded. it’s not perfect, yet, in its imperfection, it is perfect.

most of all, the natives and the regional perennials co-exist, nurturing each other simply by existing.

i suppose it might be wise for us to take a few cues from these plants. somehow, they are growing and thriving – side by side – without thwarting the growth and thriving of another. somehow, they are weathering the seasons without resistance, falling into fallow and rising out of the dirt. somehow, they are just being, without overly exuberant displays toward each other, without angsty concern, without aggression. somehow, they are blooming and verdant and glorious, trusting – implicitly – that the next plant will understand, that the next plant will also weave its way in the midst, working together to find the light-space they each need. somehow, they are symbiotic, bringing their best, setting aside differences, instinctively empathic. somehow, they are aware of the precious time they have in the sun.

and the garden is vibrant. beautiful. healthy.

and the garden is wise.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. ~ thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a donation “tip jar” website where you may choose to support the work of artists you value. thank you for your consideration. xoxo


by 1 Comment

growth spurt. [d.r. thursday]

breck is having a growth spurt. like when your toddler suddenly grows inches and miles and you cast aside the tiny outfits, reaching for the next sizes up.

you don’t really know what to expect about how a child will look when a baby is born. every day – in the middle of the chaos that is parenthood – you look at this precious child, pretty much incredulous. there are days when nothing about their tiny face and body looks much different. there are days when you have an inkling of what this little person will look like as they grow. there are days you stare and wonder whose child you are holding.

breck is kind of like that. for years since we brought breck home from – yes, breckenridge, colorado – it has looked like a small quaking aspen sapling. potted and then in the ground in numerous places in the backyard, its leaves were small, easily-identifiable aspen leaves, the classic well-loved shape of mountain breezes and stands of shimmering, rustling.

and then, this summer.

breck is now – apparently – an awkward teenager. the new leaves are giant, the new growth resembles the beanstalk that jack planted. it is as high as the lowest point of the garage roof and each day there are new leaves up there, new inches. we are not quite sure what is happening out there. but it sure looks like breck is having the time of its life.

breck’s vigorous growth this very summer seems really hopeful to us. in these past five summers we have watched breck maintain, keep status quo, a little teeny growth here or there. we’ve been grateful it has sustained. we feel inordinately connected to this little tree that made its way home from the high mountains with us in littlebabyscion.

we wonder about its sudden enthusiasm. we wonder about its new and different leaves. it feels like it is somehow bursting out of slow-and-steady into what-the-heck-full-steam-ahead.

we’re hoping it’s contagious.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

visit DAVID’S evolving gallery website

QR or this link if you would like to buy us a coffee or help support our content creation. we so appreciate it. xoxo


by Leave a comment

french lavender. [d.r. thursday]

with the string you tie around boxes of cakes and pastries from a bakery or sweet patisserie, small bundles of dried lavender hang around my studio. from the big old black window frame that sits on the chifferobe i use for supplies to over by the djembe in front of the turned-off radiator by the window. bundles of lavender.

i used to have a lavender garden out back, started with cuttings divided out from the same bed these bundles were from. then the snow-on-the-mountain snuck under the fence from my neighbor’s yard and, despite my best efforts, took over the lavender (and anything else in its path). snow-on-the-mountain is like that. it barrels down anything in its way and takes much effort to eradicate. it’s aggressive and a tad bit bullying, not unlike some people i have known. i didn’t invite it into my yard, but there it was, anyway. i’ve tried to – now – incorporate it while still somewhat controlling it – the new normal. sounds a lot like the stuff of life.

each year we plant a big pot of lavender. each year, it is a slightly different strain of lavender. last year, our daughter chose the plant, as she was here at the time and we visited a nursery. it exploded into a gigantic plant – the bees seemed to love it as much as we did. this year, we chose one that seemed unique, it’s purple petals growing out the top of the stalk – french lavender, with butterfly-like narrow petals.

lavender is known for bringing serenity, for its calming soft scent. for me, it’s a balance plant. it is – without any real effort – growing in its giant pot.

i walk over and, with the slightest of touches, am caught in a whirl of its beautiful aroma. i think about tying some branches and hanging them to dry at the end of the summer season. or maybe making small lavender sachets. anything to keep it going.

i can add some to the gifted lavender in my studio. bring serenity in. and push out the ghosts of invasive snow-on-the-mountain.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

QR or this link if you would like to help support the creation of our content xoxo


by Leave a comment

the back garden. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

bunbun et al seem to love the new hosta. we added them to the back garden – along the new fence – last summer. and then bunbun’s momma added her family to the backyard.

it’s not that we don’t love hardy purple-flowered hosta. they are the hosta of my youth, the stalwart souls of shady gardens everywhere. they come back, despite pretty much anything.

but those white-flowered hosta – big solid-colored blue-green leaves – and the waterfall of white flowers bent under the weight of their blooms. i’d see them in nestled in mulch on our walks. i’d see them in peaceful garden center strolls. ahh, i was in hosta-desire.

most of our yard – prior to last summer – has come from others. plantings, cuttings, full transplants from people dear to us. so it has been less about landscape-planning and more about gratefully accepting gestures of friendship and generosity.

and then, when it was time for a fence, it became about planning.

our fern garden is tucked into the back left, over by the garage, under a canopy of many big old trees. we dug up and transplanted all the hosta from along the back fenceline to over by barney – kind of a vintage garden, old-fashioned flowers tucked in next to each other, next to our almost-100-year-old piano. it’s where our sweet peonies are and all the daylilies.

along the back fence, though, we now have various-sized ornamental grasses. switchgrass and zebra grass, blue sedge and a big piece of driftwood that tiny birds seem to love. they perch and linger, eyes on the birdfeeder, waiting their turn for the birdbath. we added three of the darker-leafed hosta. these are the ones bunbun loves. tiny bites of leaf – evidence of bunny snacktime.

each day – with the coolest watering wand and hose gifted to me by my niece – i wander slowly around the backyard, taking note of new growth in each of our plants – the gifted ones, the carefully-researched, chosen ones. it’s simplicity at its best – a slow walk nurturing all the living things back there. we fill the birdfeeders, knowing the chippies and the squirrels love them too. we clean and refill the hummingbird feeder and late dusk watch the hummer fly in to do its feeding circuit. we scrub out the birdbath daily, refilling it – just as the woman walking through the parking lot told us to do when she enthused about our purchase on the rolling flatcart and i asked her about things we should know.

it’s a slower summer. because of circumstances, we don’t know if we will be able to travel much. but that makes dogdog happy. and, in my imagination, i can hear the house wrens and the cardinals and the robins and chickadees and sparrows clapping. and bunbun’s ears perk up too.

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

QR code or this link if you’d like to help support our content creation. thank you. xoxo