Is Spring of 2013 FINALLY, FINALLY springing? (PART FIVE of FIVE) ASK THE PLANTS, ORNAMENTAL GRASSES and a few FLOWERS!

MAC, A MALE CARDINAL

April showers woke-up Ajuga flowers! These are the light purple ones seen here where they "live" with my Crocuses in the "home" of my Actinida kolomikta and Actimida (Kiwi Vines). They are all thrilled to have Cam's beau alight on their "home," especially this morning when the crocuses and ajuga are scheduled to be some of the "things" featured in today's post: part five of my series (which I introduced this past Friday on Blogger) where the things I grow are assisting me in answering the question: Is Spring of 2013 FINALLY, FINLLY springing?

Both the ajuga and the crocuses share the "limelight" today with my plants (Farfugium japonicum AKA 'Cristata', Creeping Jenny, and my Pyracantha coccinea AKA Orange Charmer Firethorn), as well as my ornamental grasses (The Hakanechola Macra Twins AKA Japanese Forest Grass All Gold and my Ophipogon planiscapus Triplets AKA Black Mondo Grass).

IF the dog hadn't STOPPED to SNEEZE . . . .

The anniversary of my father's death will be at the end of November, for he died on November 30, 1995; and indeed it is a fact you might recall, as I've referred to this event here on Blogger in prior posts, including one which you may refer to by clicking here. One of my father's favorite sayings was, "if the dog hadn't stopped to sneeze, he'd 've caught the rabbit!" The dog's itchy nose was the rabbit's fortune, as you probably can surmise; but, as you can also surmise, that has nothing to do with why my father reiterated this quote time and time again.

I confess I tend to be an "if only XX had happened, YY would be ok" type of person: playing scenarios that have come and gone, over and over in my mind, as if that would somehow change the outcome; but alas, there is no Edit/Undo or Ctrl/Z outside of life in cyber-space.

Most recently (this past Friday, November the 7th), I was caught up in what I had done wrong re plans I had made with my friend, Michael (pictured above). 

Michael is a longtime friend of mine who lives across the street —  a few doors west of me — and among other things, we share a love of gardening. Moreover, it was Michael who helped me prepare my urban (NYC) garden for a so-called renovation in September; and then again for Hurricane Sandy this past October. I've discussed both of these "scenarios" in previous entries here on Blogger, and you may refer to them by clicking here as well as here respectively.

New Arrivals: The Coccinellidae novemnotatas aka THE LADYBUGS

Last week, at this very time, I was preparing for a hurricane who has ben named Hurricane Irene, which I discussed in this past Saturday's post, and in the conclusion of that entry, I reported that, in regards to Irene, I'd return to blogging with "hopefully little damage to report."

Thankfully, that was the case, as I've already indicated earlier this week. I am very grateful to God — though I don't express it nearly as much as I should. In fact, since I sleep on a foam pad — which is directly atop of my floor, I often don't kneel when I say prayers before going to sleep, although I did (as is the standard) kneel at mass yesterday, with thanksgiving that, in terms of Irene, I was unscathed; especially given the damage which Hurricane Irene did cause for many people, including those who live  on or near the Jersey Shore, a place, where I took the photograph (posted above) in late July, of a shore town's resident's garden fence with the affirmation, God Answers Knee-Mail. 

Since the place where I took this photograph is very near the ocean, I hope the folks who own the property as well as their surrounding neighbors did not sustain too much damage, but, whatever the case turned out to be, I am fairly certain they relied on their knee-mail to God to see them through the situation.

And speaking of God; are you, dear reader, familiar with the adage, If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans" ?

Well, what has happened, dear reader, is that I've recently discovered this very same  thing that happens with a muse. If you want to amuse your muse, tell him/her what you intend to write about. 

For as you may recall, dear reader, last Saturday I confessed that I had planed to write about my "journey towards elegant garden lighting", but my preparation for Irene took precedence. I did promise to return to my garden lighting epiphany today, but I admit that (because I have now been writing this entry in my head for over a week) my insights do not seem as poignant as they did last week, and I am tempted to renege on my promise; not out of an unwillingness to fulfill a task — but out of a bit of pride — that I may not sound as prolific in cyberspace as I do in my head, when it comes to the insights which I thought the new lighting system in my urban garden had taught me.

Good Saint Anne, July's Rain IS your Dowry!

Today, July 26th in the Western Calendar is the feast day of Saint Anne (her feast day is July 27th in the Eastern Calendar), a feast day that she shares with her husband Joachim. 

The image posted above today's blog entry is a screen shot of a pencil sketch of the beloved saint, titled Saint Anne after Leonardo Da Vinici , by an artist who calls herself Trish. (For information on this image or to view other works by the artist, please click here).

Saint Anne is the mother of the Virgin Mary, and grandmother of Jesus Christ, according to Christian religions; however, her name is not mentioned in the canonical gospels. 

Among other things, Saint Anne is the patron saint of "childless couples", giving them "special aid in obtaining children", and, perhaps, she was instrumental in my sister and her husband's successful adoption of two Russian children, whose voices I "showcased" in a blog entry that I made about the use of "voice cards", which I made this past January (that you may hear by clicking on this link). Their adoption came through after much bureaucracy and heartbreak, which were both preceded by several futile years of unsuccessful in-vitro fertilization treatments.

Lessons Learned in the Garden on Mother's Day (Mother may know best.)

It is Mother's Day, and my seeing my Paeonia suffriticosa (Tree Peony) enjoying its friends is cause for a pleasure to be shared — probably like a pleasure mothers have in taking photographs of their children and sharing them proudly with anyone and everyone who is kind enough to view them — as you are, dear reader, in viewing my chronology of this season's Paeonia suffriticosa and other things that are flourishing in my urban terrace garden. 

My Paeonia suffriticosa is truly enjoying her friends, as evidenced in the photograph posted above, which shows a view of the most southwest corner of my terrace garden. It appears to me that my Paeonia suffriticosa is bending down, to give my Fancy Leaf Coral Bells aka Heuchera 'Marmalade' a kiss; a kiss much like the kiss I gave my sister soon after she was born, and a gesture that inspired my mother to take the photograph posted below of yours truly with my younger sister —

— a woman I've blogged about in a previous post and where the same photograph is posted.

My Well-Read Farfugium Japonicum 'Cristata' Mimics Oliver Twist

New York City has certainly experienced April showers in the past few days. More like April downpours, but out on my urban terrace garden, my Farfugium Japonicum (known as 'Cristata' to his friends) seems to be extending its leaves asking for more rain as  evidenced in the photograph posted below.

His leaves reminded me of the hands of the young Oliver Twist from the Charles Dickens novel of the same name. Perhaps you can see a similarity by comparing the extending leaves above to this photograph (copyright details here) posted below of a lad portraying Oliver.

However, the comparison stops there as my Farfuguim Japonicum (AKA 'Cristata') unlike Oliver Twist, was not kidnapped, but raised in a nursery in Bayside Queens, where he received plenty of care before making the trip with me in 2009 on the Long Island Railroad to join the plants and shrubs in my terrace garden.