Ha! You thought I was talking about some girlfriend of that guy who lurked in the tree outside Grandma’s window. You may be excused for thinking I’m the equivalent of my own imaginary friend, in fact, but yes indeedy I did climb a tree today. Sometimes it’s good to be a crazy old bat. Here’s why I did it:
The backyard tree was calling my name . . .
I mean, really. If you had this Bradford flowering pear tree glowing at you through the kitchen window, could you have resisted? Granted, there was also a squirrel-decimated finch feeder glaring from its branches, and removing the skeletal remains from sight seemed like rationalization enough, if I needed any, but the pear trees are unsure we actually had a winter, and so both our front and backyard pears are not only bursting into bloom a tad early they are starting to leaf before the blooms are even fully open, and getting just a little ahead of themselves, as I often do too. It’s not especially sunny today, but pretty warm, and who wants a ladder when it feels like springtime? It may be apropos that from up there I had a nice view of the sweet cedar bat house I’d mounted in the adjacent red oak, but I think a tiny bit of tree-climbing may also have cleared a few of the bats from my own belfry, or at least knocked out a cobweb or two.
You might even wonder why I’d be looking out the window all that much when it’s grey and overcast and kind of, well, lackluster in the great and brown-grassy out of doors here in the first place. Here’s why I did that:
The little patio nursery is awakening . . .
You could ignore this? Me, I just have to look every few minutes or so just in case the sprouts are suddenly eight inches taller. It could happen. See those adorable little fine-haired leaflets? The dainty little red stems on what I will assume are the sprouts of beetroot plants?
The charmingly incorrect way I have of throwing everything in together and planting at the same time, same depth, same channel ought to at least entertain me . . .
No one who hangs around this blog for the briefest length of time will mistake me for an orderly, proper, or logical gardener. But I love my mad-scientist fun in yard and garden and the often profligately rewarding things the dirt gives back without regard for my deserving. I was going to say, “my deserts”, but you might easily mistake me in this instance for plotting an entire property full of nothing but cacti, given last year’s Texas drought, my stated intent to move toward a fairly solidly xeriscaped property, better water management, prairie-native plants, succulents, and all of that sort of thing. And I do plan all of that in the long term. But it won’t stop me from, say, planting a few things here and there that mightn’t be strictly ideal for the situation, because I do have that experimental urge and my wildly impractical loves. So yes, I did go ahead and put in a few orange and white tulips in the planters out front, thank you very much. And here’s why:
The yard--front and back--thus far boasts some fantastic trees (and the two little sticks, one of which you can barely discern here centered on the porch, that I intend to raise into trees eventually), but there's not a lot more to commend it . . . yet . . .
I have my ambitions. Not least of them is to get proper drainage around the house perimeter and evict the hopelessly useless and rarely attractive lawn in favor of paths and planting beds and places that would invite the local bees and butterflies and birds and the greenbelt denizens from out back to come and linger, and the eyes and hearts of visitors to find pleasure. All of this, in place of dull hard St. Augustine “grass”; having lived in temperate climates I find I can’t quite call this scratchy variegated-brown stuff by the honorific reserved for something a lot kinder underfoot and a lot more able to thrive on its own than what we’ve got now. I like to believe I can make a bit of a change for the better! It’ll take a lot of resources, but I have hope. Here’s why:
In an earlier time and place I went from a similarly "low maintenance" yard (don't you just adore Realtor Speak!) of mostly unhealthy grass and stumpy evergreen shrubs yard to something nicer in only a couple of years . . .
I think you can get a hint of the Why, no? Granted, that was a west-coast climate very friendly to all manner of plants from just this side of tropical (I did grow a banana tree as an annual out back) to alpine. But I’m optimistic that with the right ingredients, a bit of effort and plenty of imagination, I will be able to transform, if slowly, this place too. I may not achieve the lushness of my temperate garden, but I look forward to something a bit more dramatic and inviting. Here’s why:
The neighborhood wasn't honestly the most upscale, but given the growing climate, I finally decided Parkland wasn't *entirely* a misnomer for it either . . .
This photo was taken less than two years after the whole property had been bulldozed. I dug up and salvaged a number of the rhododendrons and other shrubs, and of course the magnificent Douglas-fir off camera to the right held its ground (after the arborist gave it some tender loving care following its attack by lightning!), but the rest was a big scraped-off dirt pile. So I’ve seen what dirt can do. I’m going to go on believing in what it’ll offer until and unless it proves otherwise. Then you can all say I was just out of my tree.
Art-Colored Glasses 
I’m sure everybody will want PICTURES of you climbing the tree. đ
Fortunately, there was nobody on hand to document my adventure, pictures of which would more likely resemble a poke in the eye than a roadside attraction of any sort! Now, if I get around to my planned swing installation at any point, I will perhaps relent. But you never know, if I get addicted to monkeying around in the trees someone’s sure to notice eventually. đ
From Lindy Lee to ki: I thought THAT photo, mentioned by thebardonthehill just above, would be positioned at the bottom of your post, ki…
Love the “realtor speak,” yes! Great photos as per usual.
Thanks, my friend! Nobody appreciates dramatic overstatements like a theatre maven!!
Love the view into your backyard, not to mention seeing the narcissus and tulips in bloom! Things are moving quickly up here, too.I hope Old Man Winter leaves us quietly now without a parting shot. That may be asking too much of him; rarely does he act so civilized.
‘Specially in the upper midwest, by my recollection, Mr Winterpants can get mighty uppity when we think we’ve escaped his clutches! But we’ll keep our fingers crossed and hope he’s just absentminded enough to let us slide by this time. đ
I love the peek into your yard and your world. Thank you.
Glad to have you come in for a visit! đ
The flowering tree is gorgeous, and it is a pleasure to see your home, your little nursery of new plants with fresh leaves, and your beautiful back yard. It is obvious that you have put a lot of work into it. But what is most important, you have done things right, despite all your disclaimers, because it looks very beautiful. I am sure that makes the home all that more pleasurable to live in. Happy for you.
Mother Nature has always been very forgiving with my garden hijinks, so I’m hoping that will hold true here in Texas as it did in that former garden. It’s worth a try, at the least!
I love the Pear Tree it is a beauty. *Grin* And I will be smiling through the day, envisioning you climbing that tree… it would be irresistible to me too! đ It is still a wonder to me that you are enjoying and looking forward to the first showing of spring… and I am savouring the height of summer for all it’s worth, under the sunny skies of South Africa. Thank-you for sharing and for letting me take a peek into your garden. it has been a delightful ‘insight’ ~ thanks, Mands
Despite the serious arachnophobes among my blog-friends, I’m tempted to put up a photo of our beautiful Writin’ Spider from last year after seeing your fabulous Golden Orb Weaver!!! But I hope that by improving this garden as much as I can I’ll invite all sorts of wonderful bugs and birds and creatures to come over and play. I hope I’ll get to see SA and its beauties one day too, but for now I love being able to visit thanks to wonderful blogging friends there! Enjoy the summer’s delights to their fullest while they last!
xo
Kathryn
What a beautiful day!
đ Mandy
Every day that reconnects me with the garden feels more beautiful. đ
xoxo!
Kathryn
Oh dreams..dreams..dreams…where would we be without them? Certainly not in a wild and blooming garden nor between the blooming branches of a pear tree.
Sending you lots of green thumb energy which, to be perfectly honest, I could use some of too. đ
And happy tree climbing! It holds a wealth of pleasure, I know. We had a Gulmohar tree in our backyard when I was growing up and it was my home away from home.
*ZING ZING ZING…………….*
(that’s the green thumb energy coming your way)
Ooohhh, I appreciate the GTE zings!!! Back at you, my dear! I am going *right* off to look up Gulmohar trees!!! Yippee!
xoxo
I look forward to the majical transformation of your yard! đ
Me too–hope, hope . . . đ
I must have been tired today, for I just noticed how I spelled magical! Remember, hope springs eternal(y)!
fantastic .. nothing like Growing Girl Power! and climbing trees!!! fab.. c
I’m millennia behind *you* on the GGP! And I’m pretty sure I recollect you having some serious tree-climbing experience yourself. Any time you want to come and swing from the branches here, feel free! In the meantime I shall busy myself trying to get some excellent garden-y stuff going beneath them.
I can’t wait to see how you transform the your yard.
Or at the least, how *it* transforms *me*!!
I love your green thumbed optimism, Kathryn… how could you not have big plans and dreams for your home when I see what you’d done to your other place (is that a swan sculpted plant I see in that yard?). I think it will be so neat to see that little stick in your front yard transform over the years into something magnificent.. if anyone had a magical touch, I think it would be you:) xo Smidge
ps Yes!! to your tree climbing urges!!
Heh heh heh! Not a topiary swan–that house had an old but still super-strong steel-posted clothesline by the back fence, so I started some vines up it, and that’s where they were starting to curl over the lines. Much fun, eh?!
I totally thought, only Kathryn could make a topiary swan:)
A blank yard is a blank canvas…seeing what you did before, I’m sure you’ll create another beauty, Texas-style!
I never got the appeal of St. Augustine grass, either. Grass should feel good on your bare toes! Mom’s lawn was fine-bladed Burmuda – a soft green carpet in all but the driest years.
Yes, Bermuda grass is far preferable, if one is to have actual lawn. Since we seem to be potentially headed for a dry-ish cycle, I suspect that (having no pets or small persons in the house who would require it) I’ll bypass the whole question and go straight to some other sort of greeny groundcover to offset the upright plants, if not do as I’ve done before and let the paths take on that duty entirely.
And who where declared that climbing a tree made one a crazy old bat? I protest! I may not be as fearless as I once was but given the opportunity I will climb a tree, mountain, butte, whatever as long as I feel it safe enough to avoid a trip to the ER. I can’t wait till it’s safe enough to head off to the nursery and start my micro farm on the deck once again. Happy growing to you đ
Fear not, I have no delusions that tree climbing in any way contributed to my bat-hood; I merely use my already fully-blown case of Fledermaus-itude as excuse and inspiration for anything moderately out of the dull ordinary. đ
I’ll look forward to seeing/hearing what happens in your micro farm this year!
Wow. I am so impressed by you climbing a tree, I would have been scared. I am commenting a bit *in arrears* so hopefully your sprouts are now sixteen inches high!
Not yet, but I did manage to get more than sixteen inches off the ground myself, if that counts for anything! đ
These are all beautiful! Makes me want a garden to take care of and spend time in when I’m older. đ
I never thought I’d find it so addictive–I was that kid who dreaded being summoned by Mom to work in the garden (and still don’t like weeding, rock-picking and the other drudge-work)–but once I got to do some of the planning, design, sculptural pruning, etc, and saw the enormous payoff of one babied plant in full leaf or bloom, I was off and running. And of course when the plants produce edible stuff too . . . đ
I’m determined to start a veggie garden – even just a few little window boxes – with Joe once we live together in a few years. I want to be like my grandparents and have half of my groceries come with no charge except a little care every day!
Is the drudgery really all that bad? I would think that eventually you just get into the rhythm of things and are too focused on the task to be bored. đ
No, of course, if the drudgery were so terrible I wouldn’t even attempt gardening! I’m too weak-willed for that sort of determination. đ