Each Little World

Fiber Friday: A treat for the seamstress

As part of my process of turning our former guest room into a studio, I've been making space on the bookshelves in there for art and fiber supplies. This week I dropped off three grocery bags stuffed with gardening books to Olbrich Botanical Gardens. They'll determine which of them to add to their collection and which to put out at their plant sale in May. I gained three empty shelves that I quickly filled with supplies stashed hither and you around the house.

But I left room for a new sewing item that I recently found at a local antiques mall. Despite trying to downsize and not bring in a lot of new items, sometimes one just can't resist an unexpected find. This is a small folk/tramp art sewing box, date unknown. It's not large, only abut 9 inches in all dimensions.

You can see from these first two photos that the maker did not quite get the middle section figured out and put together as neatly as the other parts. But that's the charm of old unusual items like this: They exhibit the hand of the maker. And this maker showed her (or his) clever hand in a design that lets 8 different strands of thread neatly unspool through the white rings. 

The top section is a box whose lid lifts off revealing 8 nails that hold short spools of thread. The middle and bottom sections are drawers that still held old sewing supplies, including a little travel kit from "Grant's Golden West" in Hobbs, N.M. The container also advertises some brand of medicine called Calvert which the print says "tastes better" and suggests you switch. So maybe it originally held pills and someone later added tiny sewing supplies. 

I thought I would add a few of my own quirky sewing supplies like this old package of gold eye needles and black enameled entomology pins "for extra fine fabrics." 

Though the stuffing inside the pincushion on the top of the box has lost its oomph, I decided to leave it alone so that the entire creation is intact. Though the whole box is in usable condition, I have a strong suspicion that I will give it pride of place more like a tiny sculpture than a tool.

Unintended consequences

The three oldest Hellebores in my garden were planted so long ago I don't have an id card for them. They are all Royal Heritage Strain developed by John Elsley, who was at Wayside Gardens at the time. They have always been the biggest clumps and the earliest bloomers. They were planted in a triangle under a Washington Hawthorn tree that came down a number of years ago. A tiny Carolina Silverbell tree was put in as a replacement. It's centered in the opening among the evergreens.

Last fall I decided that I would move two of these Hellebores. They were all next to a main path and visually overshadowed everything planted behind them. I decided I would leave one where it was and move the other two plants behind the Silverbell. Essentially I moved the wide base of the Hellebore triangle so it now faces the fence with the point at the path. Previously it had been the other way around. Somehow in those warm sunny days I neglected to remember that I had just moved my early Hellebores into a spot shaded by a fence where the snow melts last.

Who ever thinks about the "law of unintended consequences" when gardening." Certainly not me — which is how I brilliantly moved plants from a perfect location into a spot that is much less so. I assume these old Hellebores will recover from the transplant and will arrive as usual one of these days. But they may no longer by the true harbinger of spring in my garden. Rather they've become the harbinger of unintended consequences, reminding me to think my plans all the way through before I start digging. 

Wordless Wednesday

Silk embroidery, 18th C.

Now and then, then and now

Last year I posted this photo of Hellebores pushing up in my garden on the first day of Spring, March 20. I noted that the day was warm and sunny with very little breeze. I went out in the garden for almost six hours cutting back plants. The temperature eventually hit 60 degrees F. (15.55 C.) and I sighed over what a fabulous beginning to Spring it was. 

I cut back a tremendous amount of Hellebore leaves. Most of them were still green after being buried by snow all winter.

Jump to this March and the weather and the scene are entirely different. No matter where in the garden I have Hellebores planted they all suffered the same fate. Lack of snow and extreme cold turned everything brown. The leaves finally got flattened with our February and March snows. Today's warmer temperatures and drizzle will hopefully melt the last of the snow holding the leaves splayed in place. 

The beginning of warmer weather has finally melted the ice on the header pool. Sunday afternoon it was still completely frozen.

When I went out a few minutes ago to look around, it had opened.

The overnight temperatures are still below freezing according to the forecast for the next ten days. But a few more warm days should also get the ice off the big pond. This is what it looked like on Sunday afternoon. 

And here's the view this morning. Despite the fact that brown is till the predominant color in the garden at the moment, the melting ice proves spring is moving forward — even if the pace seems imperceptible. 

IVOM: Still waiting

One group of snowdrops are up and I've cut a few for in the house, but the stems are still so short they make a rather sad little vase. So I am spending these last days while I wait for the garden to come to life again, looking for floral inspiration. The images below show creations by floral designer and stylist Amy Merrick, of Brooklyn, NY. What first struck me about Merrick's bouquets is that she so often uses flowers that many of us are growing in our gardens. But she's combined them to great effect as good designers do!

You can see what I mean about her flower choices in this bouquet of lily of the valley, daffodils and Epimediums. This combo is on my list to try this Spring.

The arrangement below has me in search of a yellow Hellebore to add to my collection of dusky dark bloomers.

Hosta and Begonia leaves, fern fronds and some long flowering stems of Lady's Mantle. Utterly simple and yet totally sophisticated.

Will I have a bouquet of my own next week? I am hoping that will be the case but there is not a lot of warm weather in the forecast and snow is on the horizon for next weekend. Such classic March weather: on again/off again right up to the end of the month.

To see what gardeners whose plots have sprung to life already have put in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this Monday meme.

Under the snow

Ugh. And ugh again. Despite T.S. Eliot's famous line, I find March to be that cruelest month. It's still more winter than Spring here in the Upper Midwest. The snow — like a dirty glacier — is slowly receding out of my garden. One year I had Mark go on the roof of our house to take photos of its path as it so clearly showed where the sun is at this time of the year.

It was a perfect blueprint for where to plant early bulbs. But only the snowdrops in the sunny spot right next to the house have dared to make an appearance. My Spring garden is all about the debris that came down in the last storms of autumn and has been buried under the snow. 

Thousands of honey locust pods still carpet the garden under our three trees of that species. I've picked up five big bags of them so far this month and untold bags last fall. Most of them were in the garden on the slope below the Tea House that is filled with early flowers. It's home to Hellebores, Hepaticas, and Epimediums so I needed to get those pods out of there while the ground is still mostly frozen, otherwise I would be stepping on little plants pushing upwards. Last Sunday I managed to clean the Tea House Slope and the gravel garden that is visible from the living room. Still lots to do but at least it is not shouting at me every time I look out of the window.

The end of the snow also reveals unexpected surprises like this metal mold for a 3/4 size cello. It's been hanging on the fence for quite a few years but clearly couldn't take any more abuse this year. It's landed right on the crown of one of my favorite ferns so I moved it out of there right away. This fence has been in place since long before we moved in over twenty years ago. It's time to replace it but neither we nor our neighbors have been ready to face that project. Alas, I don't think we can put it off much longer.      

Luckily there are a few lovely surprises like the first Hellebore buds starting to break through the surface of the earth. This one is right by the house and the extra protection is likely responsible for this plant being the first one to appear. I moved a few big Hellebores last season and I am not sure how — or if — that will affect their blooming. I haven't cut back any plants so far and I scattered some dry leaves over these buds. I am not expecting them to do much until later in the month — though I would not mind being wrong.  

Spring flower show at Olbrich

Every year the horticultural crew at Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison somehow manages to come up with an inspired concept for their annual Spring flower Show. They completely transform the same space into a new and brilliant arena year after year. This year's theme — Under the Sea — includes everything from mermaids and sea creatures to a sunken ship and views out the portholes to the mysteries of the deep. I think most of the pictures are self-explanatory, so I won't say much more. But the show ends this weekend, so don't miss it. (details at the end of the post).

Even with the crowd who were taking in the show before last night's WHPS meeting, we still managed to see everything up close. 

The crew built a boat dock close to the ceiling to add to the effect of viewers being under water. 

 

In addition to the hundreds of blooming flowers and unusual tropicals and greenery, there were a number of small inexpensive touches that actually were among my favorite creations this year. They include all the quirky solutions to making the barnacles and encrustations that one might find at the bottom of the ocean. The creative team used pinecones, crocheted "bowls" and cupcake papers aged with a bit of paint. Too clever!

' ' '

The Spring Flower Show only runs through Sunday, March 25 so hurry on over before it's just a memory. 

 March 10-25, 2018

10 a.m. to 4 p.m. daily 

Show Admission

•$5 for adults (ages 13 & up)

•$3 for children ages 3 to 12

•Children 2 and under are free

•Free for Olbrich Botanical Society members

Win a $300 Shopping Spree!

While you are visiting the flower show and Obrich, buy a ticket for this special raffle and you'll get to shop the Plant Sale with the Pros with the expert eye of Olbrich's Horticulture Director to guide you! Jeff Epping will spend an hour assisting the lucky raffle winner in selecting $300 worth of free plant material during the Early Bird Shopping on Friday, May 11 from 9 - 11 a.m.

Wallpaper for a gardener's child

I've got a big Boston fern lending a spot of color to the living room along with the few small ferns that I picked up at the grocery store a while ago and my cup of snowdrops. I really thought I might have enough new garden growth to proclaim the arrival of Spring. No such luck. Thus I am celebrating Spring with this "wallpaper" I designed back in grad school. I've been cleaning out bins and boxes of papers and found these when perusing our flat file storage.

The bunches of asparagus and the dotted edges of the clouds were screen printed if I remember correctly. Then I handpainted the stripes, triangles and shading inside the clouds, all of which is more obvious if you click on the images to enlarge them. I am clearly a mixed media gal and can never seem to stick to just one technique in a piece of art. 

Of course, I did a pink version and blue version with reverse color mats back when my ideas appear to have been more gender specific. Today I would most likely only use those colors and the theme of gender in an ironic fashion.

Spring has sprung

Or so the calendar tells us, though you can barely prove it in my garden. The buds on trees and shrubs are plumping and coloring up.

But there's still a thick coat of ice on the pond. While it started to melt at the edges with Sunday's temperatures rising into the low 50s, it still has quite a ways to go to be fully open. My records indicate that that typically happens from March 24 to the end of the month. Looking at it this morning, I would say that timetable is right on schedule.

But it is officially Spring today and I am ready to get out in the garden and do some cleanup. Most of all, I am ready to see some green tips pushing up out of the ground.

In a vase on Monday: Still wearing the green

My patch of double snowdrops were up enough by the weekend that I was able to dig up a few for a St. Pat's bouquet. The lovely shamrock teacup and hanky belonged to my late mother-in-law. Her daughters gave them to me as mementoes after her death in 2013. I've created this same arrangement before so it is not new, but still a favorite way to showcase this green and white March flower. 

This patch of snowdrops need to be divided and spread about, so attempting to dig out just a few gave me an idea of what will be involved to break up the solid clumps and tease them apart. That job is going  near the top of my early spring chores list, though I won't actually do it until they're done blooming. 

My youngest sister got married in the late 1990s in New York City where she lived. She arranged for all the family members to stay at the lovely Irish hotel, the Fitzpatrick, in Manhattan. The  hotel had a large portrait of Mary Robinson, the first woman President of Ireland behind the reception desk if I remember correctly. I was not really familiar with Robinson but made it a mission to learn about her. After her role as the symbolic leader of Ireland, Robinson went on to be the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights. She has continued to fight for human rights and to reveal injustice around the world. 

"Everybody Matters" is her memoir about the path she followed from being the middle child in a family of four boys in a small town in Ireland to a law degree, and a career teaching law, arguing cases and serving in the Irish government. Her role as President in Ireland was considered largely symbolic but it was the one position that was an office that the entire country voted on. Robinson made every effort to use that role as the moral center of Ireland. She understood that symbols define us and can move us forward doing the right thing. Since my name is based on Irish myth and symbol, I found this concept fascinating. 

In her address at her Inauguration as President in 1990, she spoke of the mythical "Fifth Province," which she hoped to represent. As she said, "The Fifth Province is not anywhere here or there, north or south, east or west. It is a place within each one of us — that place that is open to the other, that swinging door which allows us to venture out and others to venture in. Ancient legends divided Ireland into four quarters and a 'middle,' although they differed about the location of this middle or Fifth Province. While Tara was the political centre of Ireland, tradition has it that this Fifth Province acted as a second centre, a necessary balance. If I am a symbol of anything I would like to be a symbol of this reconciling and healing . . ."

Clearly not your ordinary President! To say nothing of the fact that she used "Here's to You, Mrs. Robinson" as her campaign song (with new lyrics). "Everybody Matters" is a fascinating look at the journey of a woman only a few years older than me. Like me, she was educated at Catholic schools until she, too, broke with the church over its roles for and treatment of women, and issues of contraception and divorce. The book also look at contempororay Irish history and politics and the positive and negative effects of globalism and Robinson's role in all of it.

 . . .

To see what other gardeners have found to put in a vase today, visit Cathy at Rambling in the Garden who hosts this marvelous meme!