At exactly 7 a.m., we dashed into Home Depot, Lowe’s, Wintour Garden, and the Grange Co-op in pursuit of roses. The plan was simple: one red, one blush or peach, and one pink - big, glorious tea roses in containers to grace the rocks under our living room window. But apparently, post Mother’s Day, red roses are rarer than a four-leaf clover.
After diving headfirst into the meager selection, I emerged victorious… sort of. The “red” rose looked suspiciously like hot pink. We bought it and planted it anyway, and vowed to hunt down a true, deep red next year, at which point the hot pink will be reassigned to another corner of the yard to live out its days in eye-catching glory.
The mini roses my Dad planted are overachievers. Starting life in a small pot as a romantic gift for Mom, they quickly realized indoor living wasn’t their style. So Dad freed them to the great outdoors in the mid-1990s, where they’ve been thriving ever since.
I’m smitten with this beauty. A blush so perfect it could win a prize. About 4-5 inches across.
Hopefully, this summer’s the charm!
Thanks to local churches, over a million dollars was raised for the facility and a year’s expenses. With less space for their belongings, they went on a spree of selling, donating, trashing, and ultimately handing out perfectly good treasures like it was Christmas in July...or May?
My husband came home with two boxes of black pots from Hobby Lobby, $5.99 each, that had been used as Gala centerpieces.
Now I’ve got 33 of them
Any ideas?
I need to touch up the sign to match the vintage redwood chairs my parents bought in 1959 from a truck in San Francisco’s Haight-Ashbury when I was a kid. There were two chairs, a small end table, a settee, and a picnic table with two benches. Sadly, the picnic table and benches bit the dust decades ago.
My sister and I used to play “wagon train” in the backyard, turning the picnic table into a covered wagon by placing two chairs on top with sheets draped over them, while the benches became our trusty horses. We braved the Indian attacks and trekked miles of hot, dusty trails as we crossed the Sierras in search of gold.
Finally, a home for my bird bath! It’s not perfect, but I’ve learned to live without perfection. I’m sure it’ll grow on me. When you’re not wealthy, you make do with what you have, and I’ve always been pretty good at that.
All that’s left to do is install the drip lines to each individual pot, which should happen sometime this week.
My husband put a small water reservoir beneath each rose bush in the pot, a smart move in Redding’s hot, dry summers because it trains the roots to grow deep and keeps moisture where the plant actually needs it. I do wish we had planted them a few weeks earlier, but so far, the roses we already have are doing well.
I picked up some Dollar Tree globe solar lights to place inside each pot, and I’m excited to see how they look tonight.
Laydee's ashes stayed in the pretty bag since the end of March because I couldn’t bring myself to take them out. On Saturday, I finally brought out the beautiful box, and my husband placed two rocks on it. One was a small rock she had brought to him as a puppy, and the other, a larger one, was picked up by my husband during one of her last walks to remember their journey together.
That box is heavy.
Her paw prints will be framed as a keepsake. She’ll be laid to rest in the backyard, alongside two other cats, two dogs, and a couple of fish.
Well, that's it for me on this late Monday afternoon. I need to fix our dinner and get ready for the BIG day tomorrow.
See you tomorrow.
Debby
Psalm 127:3 (NIV) reads: “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring, a reward.”
This verse highlights the sacred worth of human life, especially in its earliest stages, portraying children as a precious gift and blessing from God.
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