My! How My Garden Grows!

Continuing with our series, “Things in My Garden Besides Me”….

A young deer in my petunia patch.  Note boulder flower pot with smashed petunia and flag behind the hapless deer.

A young deer in my petunia patch. Note boulder flower pot with smashed petunia and flag behind the hapless deer.

Lovely lavender

Lovely lavender

I've kept these geraniums for the past ten years, originally from my dear friend, Michelle.

I’ve kept these geraniums for the past ten years, originally from my dear friend, Michelle.

The faithful echinacea or cone flower, comes around every summer.

The faithful echinacea or cone flower, comes around every summer.

Lotsa lovely lilies...

Lotsa lovely lilies…

Mom used to call them Snowball flowers.  Today it's more politically correct to call them Hydrangea...

Mom used to call them Snowball flowers. Today it’s more politically correct to call them Hydrangea…

The squirrel gardeners planted this sunflower.

The squirrel gardeners planted this sunflower.

Come and visit the garden of Mother Goose anytime! Complimentary cushions to the first fifty guests who crash land…

One Word Wednesday

image

Cheerful

Spring Poses a Question

How does it happen?

Out of nowhere
Out of the cold, hard ground
Out of woodchips
Out of winter
Out of sight
Out of mind
Out of death

Flowers happen.
Spring happens.
Love happens.
New life happens.

We didn’t have to do a darn thing.
Could there possibly be a spiritual connection?

Woodchips and daffies

Woodchips and daffies

Snowdrops.

Snowdrops.

Purply crocuses.  Or crocusi.

Purply crocus.

Golden crosusi.  Or crosuses.

Golden crosusi. Or crosuses.

We Tour the Gardens of Mother Goose

The gardens of Mother Goose are surprising in their early bloomingness. I’d like to share some of my flowers with you today! I only wish you could be here in person — we’d stroll the grounds of the Goose Estate and chat about all things flowery and bright.

Cascading white blossoms

Some folks call it the Bridal Wreath. I’ve also heard them named Wedding Flowers. To me, they are fresh and lovely as a bride as she cascades down the aisle to her groom. “Now wait just a minute, Mother Goose,” I hear you say. “A bride doesn’t really go cascading down the aisle. Cascades are for waterfalls and fountains. A bride gently floats down the aisle to meet her groom.”

“Floating down the aisle is like floating down the river,” Mother Goose replies. “It’s really peaceful and picturesque — you look around you at the lovely scenery, slowly passing the weeping willows and the stately oaks. Does that really describe a modern day bride, for gooseness sakes?”

You smile and nod your head in understanding. “Ohhh yes, Mother Goose, you are right again. The bride is much more appropriately described as cascading because of the adventure of the wedding day. Over the waterfall we go, into who-knows-what-befalls-us!” And we continue our tour of the garden…

An old-fashioned charmer, The Iris

Let’s look a little closer at this one.

All the frill of a summer dress.

“Mother Goose!” you gasp. “Why are we looking so closely at this iris?”

With all due sensibility, I calmly reply, “We must look deeply into the folds, deeply into the petals of the purple iris in order to determine whether the act of pollination has occurred. The birds and the bees, you know, dear friend…”

And you look at me with such a look of consternation that I quickly add, “My dear, the whole point of flowers is that they are seed-making factories. They are God’s assurance that life in all it’s remarkable forms will carry on. I’m quite certain that you are familiar with the parts of the flower, the pistils, the stamen, the pollen. Our friends at Wikipedia define it so well: Pollination is the process by which pollen is transferred in the reproduction of plants, thereby enabling fertilization and sexual reproduction. Why, in fact, this iris is so extremely gorgeous to the eye of the bee that the very process of pollination may be taking place even as we speak. Here’s let just take a peek…”

I glance into your face and see the strong disapproval in your eyes. I wonder if you are afraid of bees or perhaps overly-sensitive about the privacy of the flower’s reproduction process…

“Oh very well, let’s continue our tour…” Mother Goose takes your arm and gently guides you under the trellis heavily laden with greening grape vines. “Please watch your head, dear.”

The lush grape arbor of a Goose

And as we stroll into the woodsy back yard of Mother Goose, a cloud passes over the sun and spring rains begin to fall. With hardly a comment, we pass the most overlooked of all spring flowers, The Lily of the Valley.

The Lily of the Valley

You put forth a rather random comment, “Oh, I see you have Lily of the Valley, Mother Goose.”

“Yes, I do,” I answer with a touch of curtness, and we continue on our way, barely stopping to admire the humble little miracle.

Tiny little bells, only a fairy could hear them ringing amidst the arrogant chatter of a friend of a goose.

We stoop at last to examine a strange golden flower. You are quick to label it as a weed.

A weed, or perhaps a misplaced wild flower, completely uncultivated or cultured.

“And what is this, Mother Goose? It certainly seems out of place in your formal garden.”

“Yes,” I reply. “It is surely a wild flower. I had nothing to do with its appearance here.”

You give me another look of disapproval and casually stroll away. Mother Goose is beginning to wonder why she ever brought you to the garden in the first place.

The rare and beautiful Clematis viticella 'Venosa Violacea'

“And your clematis!” You exclaim with sudden excitement. “Why, for heaven’s sake, Mother Goose, why didn’t you tell me that you had the rarest of climbing blooms back here along the fence. I have not seen this variety of clematis since our trip to the Balkans several years ago. In fact, I’ve been told that this particular genus had disappeared from the face of the earth due to the problems of global warming. You ARE keeping its roots cool, aren’t you, Mother Goose?”

Along the rustic fence

And in that moment in time, Mother Goose felt as proud as a peacock. Ruffling and fluffing up her feathers, stepping gingerly towards the flower with her rubbery feet and tossing her beak into the air with disdain, she replied, “Well, of course, I keep the roots of Clematis viticella ‘Venosa Violacea’ as cool as can be expected. I keep my buckets of ice water very close at hand for careful administration at the necessary times.”

And without further ado, Mother Goose picked up the watering can and doused her friend with ice water. They did not finish the tour of the garden that day…

When the Goose Neglects Her Garden

Whilst we were all lapping up the delicacies of the Titanic tale with Mother Goose, stuff was happening in her garden.

I’ve been somewhat preoccupied with my storytelling, and lo! and behold when I went out this morning to admire the spring time glories, I was shocked to discover that the weeds have overrun my pretty little space. My exotic spring posies can barely be spotted amongst the “native flora”. Most of these pests have developed puff balls on top of their long, gangling and rubbery stalks.

A native fauna standing amongst the native flora.

Mysterious puffy plants...

Very long stems and puffy tops. Hmmm....

More of the same, plus some pretty yellow flowers...

It's surely an invasive species...

So please enjoy this little song brought to you by The Muppets and the late and wonderfully great John Denver whilst Mother Goose figures out a plan for removing weeds, fluffly flowers and various noxious vegetation from her garden whilst at the same maintaining a vigorous and entertaining storytelling regime.

Green Hope

Mother Goose is celebrating Spring and all things green and pink. These pretty pictures were all taken in my yard, and it’s a real blessing to share them with you.

Bleeding hearts seem to come up overnight like mushrooms!

I love the two-toned beauty of our Plum Tree.

Our Weeping Crab tree has tiny white blossoms.

Peonies and Sedum are on their way.

New leaves on the grapevine. Who could ever forget the failed jelly of Mother Goose last autumn?

My special Clematis which transplanted miraculously from Carol Stream in 2010 will bloom purple in a month.

The waxy and pink magnolia blooms are bigger than the rubbery foot of Mother Goose.

So much GREEN!

Mother Goose could expound on the beauties and miracles of springtime. I could talk for hours about hope and rebirth and all things pink and green. But I think the Scriptures say it best:

“Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, fill you up with peace, so that your believing lives, filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, will brim over with hope!” [from Paul’s letter to the Romans, Chapter 15, The Message]

Lyrics of Love

It’s no secret that Mother Goose is feeling the love. With Valentine’s Day only twenty days away, I’ve got hearts in my eyes.

The eye of Mother Goose, courtesy of Frescoes

Yes, it’s certainly time for making our preparations. Have you made your dinner reservations yet? Maybe you’re a stay at home traditionalist when it comes to Valentine’s Day? What’s on your menu? Have you spent any time perusing the Valentines in the card aisle of your favorite mart? Browsing the flowery bouquet websites? And what about the chocolates? It’s time, folks.

Life is like a box of chocolates, Forrest

No matter who you love or who loves you, this is your holiday. Our lovers, our boyfriends and girlfriends, our spouses, our children, even our pets come to mind when I think of Valentine’s Day. It’s actually one of the last remaining universal holidays that’s appropriate for everyone — who gets offended by celebrating love?

In honor of this loverly holiday, Mother Goose will spend some time examining some outrageous love song lyrics. We’ve been singing love songs all of our lives, haven’t we? (Is this starting to sound a little bit familiar…like the expose` Mother Goose conducted in the fall? 🙂 ) Together let’s take a closer look at some of those love songs to determine just what exactly we promised with those sweet, sentimental, and sometimes sappy lyrics.

Truly some of the songs will bring a tear to your eye. Be prepared for that and have your tissues handy. Other songs will simply rock your socks off. We will laugh and sing and muse together, dear and gentle readers. Shall we begin?

Our first outrageous love lyric comes from the song, “Me and Bobby McGee”. Written by one of the greatest songwriters of our time, Kris Kristofferson, it just goes over the top if you ask this goose.

Busted flat in Baton Rouge, headin’ for the train,
Feelin’ nearly faded as my jeans.
Bobby thumbed a diesel down, just before it rained;
Took us all the way to New Orleans.
I took my harpoon out of my dirty red bandanna,
And was blowing sad while Bobby sang the blues.
With them windshield wipers slappin’ time,
And Bobby clappin’ hands,
We finally sang up every song that driver knew.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing’ left to lose:
Nothin’ ain’t worth nothin’ but it’s free.
Feeling good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues.
Feeling good was good enough for me;
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee.

From the coal mines of Kentucky to the California sun,
Bobby shared the secrets of my soul.
Standin’ right beside me, Lord, through everything I’ve done,
Every night she kept me from the cold.
Then somewhere near Salinas, Lord, I let her slip away,
Lookin’ for the home I hope she’ll find.
And I’d trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday,
Holdin’ Bobby’s body next to mine.

Freedom’s just another word for nothing’ left to lose:
Nothin’ left is all she left for me.
Feeling good was easy, Lord, when Bobby sang the blues.
Buddy, that was good enough for me;
Good enough for me and Bobby McGee.

Wow! Did you see that line? “I’d trade all my tomorrows for a single yesterday, holdin’ Bobby’s body next to mine.” That’s just outrageous LOVE. Have you been loved like that? Who loves like that? Trading away all of our days, our whole futures just to get one yesterday back. To relive one day in the arms of a lover and never have anymore days. How much love is that? Can the heart of this goose even fathom love like that? I think not.

How many tomorrows would you sacrifice just to have one yesterday back? It’s a heartbreaking thought, and Mother Goose is going for a tissue now…

Important Stats for a Goose

  • 63,048 honks to date

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