How do people do 365-day photography challenges?  19 days has stretchhhhhhhed my creativity and excitement.

I feel pretty much done here, folks.  But I somehow feel I’m on the team, and can’t let the team down.

When I got married, my husband brought prehistoric plants from his mother to our home.  When we had a bunch of little kids, I forgot to water them, and they started dying.  He finally took them to the shop, where they thrive on little more than wood dust.  ( The story is much longer, like when he asked me if I was killing them on purpose, but I won’t bore you with the rest.)

Several years ago, my friend told me succulents were hardy (and oh, so cute!).  I bought some on clearance one summer, and they aren’t exactly thriving, but they ain’t dead, neither.





Just shooting away.


A friend’s simple blog post today inspired me to post a picture again.   I don’t have a problem shooting, just where to go from there.  I think too much about it, instead of just enjoying it.

I am thankful I don’t over-process what to do with a ripe tomato:  Should I enjoy it now?  Should I do something useful with it?  Nope.  Just eat it.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

These are the first two tomatoes I picked from the garden.  The first tomatoes are so anticipated.  We sashay into the house with them, skip to the kitchen, fry up the bacon, and immediately gobble B.L.T.’s with abandon.

I need a steady supply of tomatoes so I don’t have to go a day without eating them in season.  Out-of-season tomatoes taste like dirt.  However, by the time the 67th tomato comes along, I have misgivings.  I still want to eat them fresh daily, but I know I need to commit an afternoon to canning them.  Canning is a good thing, I just never “feel” like it.

These feelings never prevent me from planting sixteen tomato plants, so I guess I need to buck up and get busy when the time comes.  I will try not to whine.  On the outside, at least.


DPP 21: Book and gardening ramblings.

When I was much younger, I used to get the seed catalogues out in February, and start dreaming of the exotic garden I would plant in the spring.  I would even start seedlings inside, and lovingly take care of them until the danger of frost was over.

No more.  My battle with drought, disease and critters has destroyed my enthusiasm, and I stopped getting Burpee’s years ago.  But I still remember the excitement of it all, and could identify with my friend who is writing an article about gardening and outdoor books, for those people who are just itching to get back in the dirt.

I was very happy to take a picture to accompany her article.  I say “happy” because any photography subject you are not accustomed to stretches your capabilities, and teaches you something new.  And that is fun, unlike sharing most of the fruits of your garden with nasty, ungrateful pests. Humph.

Totally unrelated sidenote:  Indigo Bridge, the local bookstore where I took my pictures, had some of their books wrapped in brown paper with these drawings.  Please show them to the artistic force in your family so you can decorate like this, too.

More drops in the bucket.

My sister-in-law came out with her 3 kids to pick cherries today.  It reminded me of Blueberries for Sal.  Except no one wants to snack on pie cherries.  And there were no baby bears getting separated from mama bears.

But there were plink, plink, plink sounds as little fingers dropped cherries into their buckets.  And little eyes kept peeking at the bottoms of their buckets, hardly believing they had made so little progress.

Child Number 1:  “Mom, I’m tired.  Tired of doing this.”

Child Number 2:   “Aunt Jen, can you put your cherries into my bucket?”

Sister-in-law: ” Son, can you just find 5 more cherries for your bucket?  You know cherry pie is your favorite.”

Aunt Jen, trying to be helpful:  “Do you remember the story of the Little Red Hen?” (Of course I retold the story with funny voices.)

Child Number 3:  “Mom!  I need the ladder!  Mom!  Mom!  Mom!  I have some cherries, Mom.  Mom?  Mom!”

I am sure I  smiled the whole time, reminiscing about the days when I tried to talk my own little women through harvest time.

Lord, today I am thankful.  Thankful for little hands picking cherries.


MCP Project 52’s theme this week was “hidden”.

I found a spider on a flower, but it wasn’t impressive.  A mushroom under a plant – blah.  Finally, I saw a baby bird peeking out of his nest at me this morning.  He quit peeking after I got my camera.

So you get my Jonathan apple, which lurks in the leaves until September, when it gets big, juicy and red.