Weeds or Wildflowers?

Anyone who has done any gardening knows about weeds. Those pesky plants just seem to pop up everywhere you don't want them -- in the flower beds, among the vegetables, and along the garden path. They even spring up in the middle of a pristine lawn, ruining the effect of a beautiful carpet of green grass. Untold hours are spent pulling them out of the ground or spraying them with chemicals. We want to have beautifully manicured lawns and picture-perfect landscaping, with colorful blooms in just the right places. But inevitably, things will grow that we hadn't planned on.

I have lots of weeds in my garden, and they grow year-round. Instead of raking leaves, I pull weeds. Instead of shoveling snow, I pull weeds. And sometimes, when I just want to relax on my patio with a cold drink and a good book, I am taunted by the Virginia creeper (Parthenocissus quinquefolia) invading my gardenias and the Spanish needle (Bidens alba) springing up in my Argentine ivy (Tradescantia microfolia). Fortunately, I prefer a more natural-looking landscape to an artificially clipped and snipped plot of land. To most people, these plants look like weeds. But upon further inspection, one will discover their beauty. These aren't weeds; they are wildflowers! It's simply a matter of perspective.

 

These tiny flowers may not look showy to a passer-by, but their colors and shapes are really very pretty. Honey bees buzz from blossom to blossom, collecting pollen to take back to their hives, and butterflies dance around, decorating the air with their jeweled wings. Ants and other  insects crawl on the leaves and stems, and lizards hop from one plant to the next to catch a tasty morsel. All this activity that goes unnoticed by the casual observer attracts birds who want to join in the fun. And then the birds splash about in the birdbath and sing from the trees. From the tiniest insect to the most colorful feathered friend, my garden is humming with activity -- all because of a few weeds.

Yes, weeds can be a nuisance. But wildflowers add to the abundance of life in my garden. And for that, I can be thankful! It's simply a matter of perspective!

Coffee Break: The Strawberry Tree

Every morning our golden retriever, Penny, and I go out in the back yard to "see what's going on". We usually play a little ball, and I check to make sure the birdbath is filled. I water the plants if necessary, and inspect the trees for pests. Penny follows along happily, chasing lizards and rolling in the grass. 

This morning, I picked a few berries from the strawberry tree to enjoy with my morning coffee. It's just a young tree that we planted a couple years ago; eventually, it should grow to about 25 feet. Also known as Jamaica cherry, the strawberry tree (Muntingia calabura) is so named because of its small, white flowers resembling those of a strawberry plant. 

The fruits are about the size of a blueberry. But the best part of all is the flavor! These little berries taste just like cotton candy! 

We discovered this tree on our first trip to Mounts Botanical Garden. You can read about our recent visit to this lovely oasis in the city here. As soon as I tasted one of the fruits from this tree, I just had to find one for my own back yard. A trip to our favorite nursery the following week proved to be successful, and we brought our strawberry tree home. Now, each time I put one of these little red berries in my mouth and taste its sweetness, I am reminded of that heavenly spun sugar and fun times at the fair -- a sweet memory of childhood!

Mounts Botanical Garden

As we pulled into the parking lot, I looked anxiously at the sky. We had driven 45 minutes to reach our destination, and now it looked like it was going to rain. I grabbed my umbrella just in case, and we walked to the entrance of Mounts Botanical Garden. Located so close to an international airport that the quiet beauty was sometimes interrupted by a large plane flying overhead, Mounts is an oasis of tropical and subtropical plants in the midst of the city. Its 14 acres are beautifully landscaped with over 2000 species of plants.

We strolled through the Rose and Fragrance Garden, filled with colorful flowers and plants that smelled as lovely as they looked. Ylang ylangs and gingers, bay rum trees and, of course, roses greeted us along the path. Two ladies worked in the garden, pulling a few weeds and tidying up, obviously enjoying their occupation. Butterflies flitted about happily and a pair of cardinals flashed their pretty feathers as they flew by.

The Garden of Well Being featured herbs, teas, and medicinal plants, as well as benches and a lovely fountain to soothe the soul. A Butterfly Garden was filled with plants for food and nectar to please the multitudes of butterflies it attracted.

There was a Begonia Garden, an Edible Landscape Garden, and a Tropical Cottage Garden. When a sudden rain started coming down, I opened my umbrella and we made our way to the Gazebo Garden for shelter. Preparations were being made there for an afternoon wedding. Fortunately, South Florida rains usually only last ten minutes or so, and that proved to be the case this time. Before long, the sun shone brightly, making for a hot, steamy walk. We passed by a Dry Stream Bed, created with both wet weather and the dry season in mind. 

We stepped into the Tropical Forest and breathed a sigh of relief from the heat as the shade of the trees sheltered us from the sun. Lush ferns, vines, and orchids decorated the trees, and benches invited us to sit and enjoy the cooler temperature. Birds chirped overhead, a raccoon sniffed about, and a few mosquitoes kept us moving. 

Mounts is filled with unusual plants and trees, and each time we visit, we see something new. This was where we first discovered the music notes plant that I described in my post, Music Notes. The variety of gardens here, from the Florida Native Plant Garden to the Mediterranean Garden to the Tropical Foliage Border inspires me to look at my own garden with fresh eyes. 

I am blessed to live in a subtropical paradise where so many interesting plants abound. But no matter where you live, God has made beauty and living things to enjoy -- if only you open your eyes!

And God saw everything that he had made, and behold, it was very good...

Genesis 1:31 (ESV)

One of My Orchids is Blooming!

It's been sitting there for quite some time. Just a couple green leaves in a terracotta pot. I'm not sure this particular plant has ever bloomed. In fact, we don't even remember where it came from. But one day, while I was outside working in the garden, I noticed that a flower spike with a few buds had appeared. And a couple weeks later, four beautiful yellow orchids are smiling at me!

It's always a nice surprise when one our orchids blooms. They don't do it often, but when they do, their blossoms are breathtaking. We see them in stores all the time -- exquisite plants with several flowers standing cheerfully on a stalk. Their beauty is enticing. And even though they cost more than we would like to pay, we often can't resist the temptation and hand over the cash for the fleeting beauty of a plant that isn't much to look at when not in bloom. 

When we bought our first orchid years ago, a lady at the store told us to put the plant outside when its flowers were gone. We had paid good money for that orchid and were afraid that if we banished it to the outdoors, it might get bugs on it or something. So we kept it inside and added a few more to our collection. We pampered them and fussed over them, but they didn't seem to do much. They just sat there, occasionally growing a new leaf and not looking very pretty. 

Finally, we decided to take "Orchid Lady's" advice and put them outside. God could take care of them for us. We placed them on a little table in a shady spot under a tree and hung another one, in its basket, from one of the branches. I watered them once in  a while but, for the most part, I neglected them. There they sat, through the heat and rain of summer, through dry spells and windy weather and a cold snap or two. And then they decided to bloom. 

Now, I am no expert on orchids. But I think that orchid lady was on to something. Actually, I believe that the plants need some changing temperatures to give them a little kick. When they are kept indoors, there just isn't the fluctuation in temperature that they seem to want. Obviously, you don't want your orchids outside in freezing weather. But a little cool weather might just wake them up and get them blooming. And when you get those lovely flowers again, bring your plant inside  and enjoy!

A Day in the Garden

Saturday was a lovely day. It started out a little chilly, but once the sun woke up and rose from the horizon, the temperature warmed up nicely. After a week with too much rain and too little sunshine, it was the perfect day to work in the garden.

I started out with a walk around the property to see how the most recently planted trees were doing and picked a few green beans from the vegetable garden. I took a couple cuttings from my coffee tree (Coffea arabica) for propagation and dug up a small firespike plant (Odontonema strictum) to give to a friend. I filled the birdbath with nice fresh water and noticed that three of our orchids are getting ready to bloom! Then I decided to put on my old work clothes and get my hands dirty.

There is a small area beside the patio that has become a dumping ground for all sorts of junk. No one can see it from the other side of the fence, but ladders, stacks of flower pots, and old wooden pallets make the place an eyesore. A scraggly dwarf powderpuff tree (Calliandra haematocephala) had seen better days, and I had recently taken it out so that I could revitalize that little section of the yard. Thinking it might be a good place for a Japanese garden, I went to the nursery looking for some bamboo to set the scene.

Since bamboo can be very invasive, I wanted to get a dwarf variety that I could keep contained in a planter. Unfortunately, they didn’t have what I was looking for, but there was a colorful threadleaf copperleaf (Acalypha godseffiana ‘Firestorm’) that looked like it might be a good substitute.

Of course, we never seem to get out of a plant store with just one plant. We spotted a gorgeous purple Persian shield (Strobilanthes dyerianus) that we couldn't resist, as well as a few other small beauties.

And then we saw it -- a little tree with flowers that look just like Japanese lanterns! The Chinese fireball maple (Abutilon darwinii x striatum), pictured above, was just what I needed to add some interest to my garden. So it came home with us, as well. There is still a great deal of work to be done, but after planting the tree and the copperleaf, pulling some weeds, and lining a path with stones, I'm beginning to see some progress. Stay tuned for updates on this project! 

Something Beautiful

A few months ago, we had a terrible storm. It wasn't a hurricane, but it sure looked like one from my dining room window. Rain poured down, and the wind blew the palm trees so that their fronds all faced west. Lightning flashed, and thunder crashed, and my patio umbrella tipped over. Then it happened. The big acacia tree we had planted about ten years ago fell to the ground, uprooted by the wind. It had been a messy tree, always dropping branches when there was any kind of storm, and spreading seedpods everywhere. But it had given a light shade to a section of the property, and the birds seemed to like the flowers high up in its branches.

As we cleaned up the mess, we discovered the reason for the tree's shallow roots. Some time in the past, someone had buried large chunks of concrete in the very spot we had placed the acacia, thus preventing its roots from growing deep into the ground. We started digging up the yard, finding more and more debris, and the pile got higher and higher. What on earth were we going to do with this stuff? After some consideration, I decided to try imitating the delightful stone walls one sees in New England or in the English countryside. We began stacking our "stones" along a path, and the result was surprising. We now have a beautiful, natural looking addition to our landscape. And it started with a storm.

Sometimes life brings us troubles. Sometimes it seems we have been defeated. But God takes notice when we are afflicted. He comforts us, encourages us, and raises us up, changing our ruined lives into something beautiful for His glory -- if only we will let Him. 

O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted,

 behold, I will set your stones in antimony and lay your foundations with sapphires.

 I will make your pinnacles of agate, 

your gates of carbuncles,

 and all your wall of precious stones.

 Isaiah 54: 11-12 

(ESV)

Music Notes

Two little shrubs grow in our yard that have intriguing flowers. Clerodendrum incisum is an interesting plant whose flower buds resemble music notes before they open into pretty white clusters of white petals with red stamens. In fact, the flowers themselves remind me of herald trumpets, complete with visible music resounding from the bell of each horn. The first time my husband and I saw the music notes plant at a botanical garden, we knew we just had to get one. After all, we are musicians.

I have always loved music. When I was two years old, my mother claimed, I picked out the tune Happy Birthday on the piano. To be honest, I believe I was older than that, because I can remember doing it -- and I don't remember being two...We had a big old upright piano in our house that served as a focal point in the living room. Sometimes, we would put on puppet shows by draping a towel over the bench and hiding behind it. Then, sticking our hands above our heads, we would play with the puppets, using funny voices and making up a story as we went along. But usually, the piano was making music.

Of course, music didn't just emanate from the piano on its own. Often, it was my sister who played it. I can still hear, in my head, strains of Mozart's Piano Sonata 15 in C Major, Henry Mancini's Charade, and the music of the Beatles filling the room as she practiced difficult passages over and over again. When my brother-in-law joined the family, that piano came alive as he played Light My Fire, and other groovy songs. Sometimes it was my brother playing Moon River. And occasionally, my mom would sit down and practice What a Friend We Have in Jesus. 

I would sometimes pick out a tune, and I took piano lessons for about a year. I even performed in a recital at my teacher's house -- a little song called A Waltz for Judy. But then I started playing the flute. Here was something I could do that nobody else in the family did! Something different! I remember the excitement of that first day in band, when I learned how to play those first few notes. I quickly learned to play reasonably well, for a fourth grader, since I already knew how to read music. And as I got older and practiced more, and with a couple years of private lessons, my playing improved. I played in concert band, marching band, and jazz band. I even toured Europe with a group of musicians from across America. And among the boys in the band, I met my husband.

Music filled our apartment when a fussy baby wouldn't go to sleep. Music played in the kids' room at bed time, soothing little ones and covering up any outside noises that might prevent them from drifting off to dream. Attending and performing in concerts and ballets filled our lives with music. And over the years, my husband introduced thousands of students to the joy of music.

These days, most of my music making is for God. Singing in the church choir and playing my flute is my offering to the Lord, much like the gift of the little drummer boy in that beloved Christmas song. After all, He first gave the gift to me. And I hope that, in some small way, my music will glorify Him. Each day, I eagerly look for those pretty little flowers in my garden. And with a song in my heart, I thank God for music.

Praise the LORD!

Praise God in his sanctuary; praise him in his mighty heavens!

Praise him for his mighty deeds; praise him according to his excellent greatness!

Praise him with trumpet sound; praise him with lute and harp!

Praise him with tambourine and dance; praise him with strings and pipe!

Praise him with sounding cymbals; praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD!

Praise the LORD!

Psalm 150

(ESV)

Gardenias

Fifteen years ago, we bought a house. It came with a big backyard -- somewhat of a rarity in middle class neighborhoods around here. But with five kids and a dog, the space was attractive, albeit high maintenance. About half of the yard is grassy. We call it the field, and sometimes, when life gets busy and the grass doesn't get cut as often as it should, it grows into what I call amber waves of grain. The other half of the property that sits closer to our house is filled with a variety of plants -- trees, shrubs, flowers, and of course, weeds. Some of the things that grew out back when we moved here were taken out and replaced by other plants. But there are three residents that still stand proudly along the path that leads to the field. The day we moved in, they were just green, leafy bushes. I didn't even know for sure what they were. That spring, lo and behold, flower buds appeared on the mystery shrubs. And when they opened up into blooms, they revealed their true identity. They were gardenias! What a lovely surprise! The creamy white blossoms adorn the bushes for months, their fragrance filling the air. Sometimes I cut a bouquet of them and put them in a vase to brighten up the house. They add a touch of elegance to our home while their perfume permeates the room. 

This week I picked one of the flowers and brought it in to paint. Just one bloom with a few green leaves lay on the table as I tentatively started to work. The white petals were a challenge to depict, since in watercolor painting, one does not use white paint. The artist must instead reserve the white of the paper in the appropriate places. So for my second weekly painting, I bring you Gardenia.

Come Along With Me

My last post got me thinking. Is there something new that I would like to try? Or perhaps something I have tried in the past and given up on? So I sat down and made a list. It got rather lengthy, but here are a few of the things I thought of:

• Japanese gardening. There is a beautiful Japanese garden in our area that always captivates me when I visit. It's actually a collection of historical gardens inspired by famous gardens of Japan. The pathway takes visitors through gates, over bridges, and alongside a koi pond. There are benches throughout the park that invite guests to relax and listen to the music of the bamboo as it sways in the breeze, the birds singing in the trees, and the waterfall that splashes over rocks into a glistening pool. There are stones in abundance -- stepping stones and boulders, raked gravel and dry rivers. Japanese lanterns and bamboo fences enhance the gardens with just the right touch. And there are trees and flowers and bushes, so precisely placed and carefully shaped that one cannot imagine anything more perfect. I would like to create a small Japanese garden in my backyard.
• Bonsai. Another Japanese art form, bonsai is simply a tree in a container. The art of bonsai, though, is in cultivating and shaping the tree in such a way as to create a miniature form of a mature tree in nature. There are bonsai trees available in stores and in nurseries, but I would like to start with my own plants, using cuttings or propagating by air layering. 
• Making mini fruit tarts. I know, it sounds silly. But I always see these lovely little treats in pastry shops, and I would like to try making them some time. I have a recipe for a large fruit tart. The trouble is that it would have be cut to serve, ruining the whole effect. A fruit tart must have its berries arranged just so -- otherwise, what is the point? Little, individual tarts allow the artistry of the confection to be enjoyed as well as its flavor.
• A painting a week. Artist Duane Keiser started a blog back in 2004, in which he made a small painting each day and showed his work. A Painting a Day, it was called, and the resulting movement became popular among serious artists and amateurs alike. I am realistic enough to know that I would not be able to turn out a painting every day, so I would like to aim for one each week. It has been a long time since I have done any serious painting, but I think I will dig out my watercolors and get to work. Just getting started is the hard part...

So stay tuned, and let's see if I get anywhere with these ideas. I will try to post updates on my progress. Meanwhile, what things would you like to attempt? Come along with me, and try something new.

Maple Tree Memories

Today I spent the morning pulling weeds in my front yard. With the Florida sun beating down on me and sweat dripping down my back, I smiled as I thought of the maple trees. Some of my fondest memories are of those times when I was a little girl, pulling up maple trees with my daddy.

Our house had three big old Norway maples on the property. One stood in front of the house providing shade on hot summer days, and the other two formed a room of sorts at the end of the backyard. They were beautiful trees. The shade they created was lovely, but grass would not grow under their branches. Instead of having a front lawn, we had a bed of ivy interspersed with wild flowers collected from the woods. I remember the trillium with its three petals smiling above three pointed leaves, the mayapple, whose flower hid shyly beneath two green umbrellas, and the jack-in-the-pulpit with its spadix standing inside a hooded cup. It was an intriguing plant. I could see how a person might imagine the structure to hold a little man, but my daddy was a preacher, and he never stood in a pulpit that looked like that. My favorite flower that grew in the front yard was the lily-of-the-valley. The dainty white bells would bloom in the spring, lined up on a stem just a few inches tall. And oh, what a fragrance they had! Sometimes I would pick a little bouquet for my mom and put it in a tiny vase to bring the scent indoors. And then there were the maple trees.

You see, as nice as those majestic shade trees were, they had a nasty habit of bearing seeds that insisted on sprouting and growing babies. Helicopters, we called the double samaras that twirled like propellers as they fell to the ground. Sometimes I would take one of the seeds, open it up, and put it on my nose. The sticky substance inside was made just for this purpose, and I would pretend to be an old witch, or Jimmy Durante, whose trademark schnoz made him famous. The maple trees produced millions of seeds, it seemed, and every one of them turned into a little tree. We couldn’t just mow them down, since they were growing among the ivy and wildflowers, so they had to be pulled up by the roots. My daddy would patiently remove them, one by one. He showed me how to identify the pesky plants and demonstrated the way to get the roots by pulling them from the base of the stem. We would remove the weeds and talk, as robins sang above us and the smell of fresh soil filled my nose.

The two giant maples in our backyard grew next to each other so that, together, they shaded a large area that we used in the summer as an outdoor room. The branches formed a canopy so dense that we could sit under them when it was sprinkling and not get wet. We kids would play games under the maple trees and camp out at night in our sleeping bags. Sometimes we would have picnics there or lift rocks to see what kinds of bugs were hiding in the soft humus. And on hot summer days, my daddy often sat reading in a lawn chair as a gentle breeze rustled the leaves and I picked raspberries nearby.

When autumn came, the leaves of the maples turned a beautiful golden yellow that lit up the neighborhood like sunshine. As the weeks progressed, the leaves turned orange and brown and began to fall, and soon we were crunching on them as we walked to school. Raking the leaves was great fun. We would make huge piles of them and, like children always do, get a running start and jump into the mound, laughing. There was nothing quite like the smell of those autumn leaves. That woodsy aroma had a way of conjuring thoughts of football games and apple cider, and reminding us that soon it would be Thanksgiving. And then would come Christmas ─ and snow!

The maple trees looked naked in the winter, standing there in the cold with their bare branches showing. The sun would sometimes peek through the overcast sky, trying to keep them warm, but they always looked a little sad, I thought. Unless it would snow. There was something magical about the snow. It always seemed to start at night while I was lying in my bed. Out there in the silence, the world was being transformed. I heard the sound of a car spinning its wheels as it tried to go up the hill in front of my house, and I knew that it was snowing. A quick peek out the window confirmed my suspicions, and I drifted off to sleep hoping that school would be cancelled the next day. When morning arrived, I threw open the curtains to behold the glorious sight. The ground was covered with a perfect layer of snow, marred only by a few tiny footprints from a bird who braved the winter weather instead of heading south. And each branch of the maple trees had a soft white blanket that glittered in the sun. Sometimes the snow would begin to melt, but then it would get cold again and icicles would form, decorating the maples with sparkling jewels.

Eventually the weather began to get warmer, and the maple trees stoically stood their ground through wind and rain. Then one day, as the sun shone brightly, little buds began to swell and then open. Tiny green flowers and shiny new leaves appeared, and before we knew it, the trees were clothed in majesty again. The robins returned from their winter vacations, built new nests, and filled them with pretty blue eggs. Soon there would be babies in those nests, mouths open, waiting for juicy worms for breakfast. The wildflowers would begin to bloom. Lawn chairs would be brought out for the summer. And my daddy and I would pull maple trees.