Marsbarn Designs...

Big E: The Return of H.

Today is h's last day in Paris.

She return's tomorrow.

The blog soon will be back to normal.

Friday, a mother at school asked

if I was ready for h to return.

I said, "No. I wish she could spend another week.

This is a once in a lifetime experience. I would not take that away from her."

The mother looked at me strangely and walked away.

Of course, I miss her, and I could not care for the children

without the help of Auntie O, but I want a woman

who has her own adventures and is not shackled to me.

Yes, I killed the cut worm and dozens of his brethern.

Big E, the Bane of Blackberries

Woe are the blackberries.

There presence has diminished. 

The strongest canes have been cut down. 

The oldest root clusters have been razed.

The runners have been ruined.

The glory is to the gardener.

English Ivy weep.

Dandelions, you are doomed.

See the yard debris bins

and know your fate.

Big E in the Garden of Benign Neglect.

Ladies and Gentlemen, 

family and friends,

while my dear wife is away,

I have decided to commander her blog.

Yep.

I am bad man.

I need reminders and a good wife

to keep me on track.

Case #1

H's garden here at the Marsbarn

has been affectionately dubbed,

"The Garden of Benign Neglect."

Our effort in the yard is sporadic

and occassional, but with good intentions.

Long ago, before children, pregnancies,

abdominal surgeries and gun shot wounds,

H planned out a peaceful retreat in the yard.

Without care, the weeds of the city encroach.

The Marsbarn is over a hundred years old.

Blackberries and English Ivy, 

morning glories and hemlock,

night shade and strangle weed,

lay siege to our yard.

On days like yesterday,

days that are warm with a cool wind,

I attack the yard.

In series of border skirmishes,

I fight back the black berries,

trim back branches foot by foot,

and then remove the roots.

Dandelions die.

Innocent plants are collateral damage.

Grubs and slugs are captured

and cast in the the yard debris can.

The berserker fury of my heritage

subsided to my hunger.

 I stepped into the yard at eleven.

It was now two.

Oops. 

Time to pick up Little E 

and Sweetheart G from school.

Wintersweet, year 2

It is that time of year again, and I am happy to say that my Wintersweet has blossomed for the second year in a row.  The blossoms appear to be forming on new growth, about 3 inches from the main trunk along lateral branches.  It is an odd place for blossoms (I expect them to be on the tips of branches), so it took me a bit to spot the blossoms the first time.

In even more exciting news, I found a seedpod, with seeds (!) on my wintersweet.  

girl tough as thorns or vice versa?

Today was little e's well child check up, which meant she had to fall out of bed last night and land on her face. (An event she couldn't even remember in the morning.) What would a check up be without fresh facial abrasions and a puffy eye? Her doctor properly admired the lumps and bumps, as well as little e's lack of concern for them. The show of toughness continued when my wee monkey shrugged off the pain of 5 shots to run to the treasure chest for her 6 stickers and special prize.

It was a gorgeous evening tonight. I worked for a bit in the yard while Sweetheart G and Little e played with friends in the backyard. I had to admire my Winged Thorn Rose (Rosa sericea pteracantha). I have to love a rose you grown just for its thorns. There is something just.. so ironic about it.

And then the clean up begins

These are the organizers I've made up for Big E's Gaming tournament at the end of the month. See I did do some sewing this week! Saturday we are throwing a big party, and it is time to start cleaning. Blech. I rented "Hogsfather" last night. It is well done, but a bit slooooww. So I've been doing chores while I watch.

Snowball fight... an annual tradition

Do you have your pocket full of ammunition? Some families have Mother's Day traditions like peaceful country walks or days of reading in bed.. but we have the Annual Snowball Fight of Doom!
First you gather your weapons at the Snowball Bush. Then you make your move. No one is safe... even the camera person!
This year we had three granddaughters, two grandmothers, two grandfathers, an auntie, a PhD Candidate, Big E, and I all involved in the Fight. The conflict was grand! Happy Mother's Day.. however you choose to celebrate!

Cyclamen, my love

Isn't she lovely?? Oh my... look at that fat little corm, and those curlicue stems complete with berry at the end.

This is one of my prolific cyclamen, and I love her. She entertains me throughout her growing season. I love the swirly leaves, the lovely bright flowers, and even her little seed pod shown here. Even better? I have two varieties, so I have cyclamen in the fall and the early spring. The little beauties thrive under my big doug fir where nothing else is really happy.

grass, grousing, and lilacs

Big E and the girls are at the gym playing in the pool while I am trying to remove the lawn from my flower beds. I hate grass. The cursed stuff does no good, and doesn't stay where it ought. I go out, hack at clumps of wandering grass, come in to ice my arms, sew a seam or two on a sewing project, and then repeat. The weather is lovely.. sunny, warm, and the lilacs are in bloom. Big E's allergies have prohibited lilacs in the house, so I guess if I am to enjoy them I might as well be weeding around their roots.

Plotting: in the garden and against the machine

My mom came over today and we worked a bit in the yard. The wind blew, the rain whipped around us, and blackberry vines died. Yep, this is gardening in April in the Pacific Northwest. It didn't actually hail, and every time it seemed like the rain might actually be the wet kind (instead of the dry kind.. it's a NW thing) the sun would peep out and we would keep working.
Yesterday I sewed a pile of quilt blocks, only to have to rip out half of the seams. I hate that! My sewing machine's motor just doesn't like the thickness of the fabric and it pulls the pieces out of alignment as it chews up the fabric. It's enough to make a girl think about (soft voice) a new machine. (Shhhh... Old Reliable might up and quit on me if it thinks I am planning a coup... You know how titchy sewing machines can be... "Oh you're thinking about getting rid of me? Ha! I'll show you!" and then the smoke and tears start..) Of course (loud voice) I am not getting rid of my Wonderful Old Reliable Machine . After all, Bunny just gave me light bulbs for it!