July 11, 2008
For Sheila
And Daryl, who both asked. Daryl first, “What I grow that [we] eat.”
My wee basil, last year by this time they were well on their way to being, by end of season, three feet tall and lush. You can also see Mom’s sage, the chives and if you squint you might see oregano and a couple baby sprigs of Rosemary. (The coral bell, far right, was given to me last year by my employer, kristopher, because it’s called a “Lime Rickey.”)
And for Sheila:
The patio/backyard. Here, a couple of details…
My favorite plant this year is the small leafed coleus, crayola-green leaves with deep purple centers, tucked under the mandevilla and potato vine. By summer’s end, just past my birthday, I expect this will all be profuse and crazy if I follow kristopher’s advice. “Fertilize, fertilize, fertilize!”
Daryl and Sheila (and also Deron and Alek), when it comes to gardening (and photography), I’m a rank amateur. Just a manager-type, businessy guy who tries to “grease the skids” in a landscape firm.
Wanna see something really nice? In my opinion, one of the finest examples of our work at the greensman. (Obviously, I did not take this picture.) Who wouldn’t want to spend the dusky hours of an evening sitting here with good, good friends?
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5 Responses to “For Sheila”
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Rick, I’d be happy to lounge in either spot (the professional or the amateur) so long as you and Danny were there.
And maybe a feral bunny.
Thank you for posting these.
I know Cooper likes rosemary. That’s for remembrance.
Me, I’m a sage kind of girl.
Oh, and the coleus is lovely.
Lovely plants and a lovely place, Rick. It’s nice to think of you and Danny cooking, and popping out the door to get a basil top or a few leaves of sage. If you make it down this way I’ll load you down with cuttings I’ve started. When I’m cleaning out the herb beds I just can’t stand to throw everything away–so I start new plants and pass them on.
“I didn’t eat the rosemary or thyme, for that matter. I just rubbed them and smelled my hands.” (Cooper)
I do this whenever I cook with garlic, which is five days out of seven. After mincing or otherwise handling a clove, I smell my hands. Given sufficient wine, I invite others to smell my hands.
And I do eat the garlic as well. Lots of it. All manner of ways. Maybe I’m not a vampire after all.
Cooper, I meant to say earlier about your comment Sheila pulled out above, I do the same thing. I “pet” my plants and carry their scent on my hands throughout the day. And Cooper, in revisiting the Q, your pieces! One in particular, and I’ll briefly paraphrase the title: The Men of ‘81… God, how much seeing that meant to me then and what a reminder it is now for how it once was for me.
Sheila, tonight in KC would be the perfect time for the amateur experience, can you catch a flight? The temperature is mid-sixties, (I imagine cooler in Galena just now, but maybe not much different.) The humidity is gone for the evening. The chair I’m sitting in feels cool to the touch. If I stay out long, I might need a long-sleeve shirt and to trade my flip-flops for socks and slides.
Daryl, for these photos, I “worried” that the patio isn’t perfect, the beds aren’t either. Sometime today I realized, if we were to go to Tuscany or the South of France or some Greek Isle, we might sit on a similar patio, with cracks in the stones (or concrete) under our feet, perhaps with weeds peeking out among the edges or cracks. I doubt I’d notice, if the company were good to keep. And the company here is Good.