Happy Half Year's Eve to You! (PART THREE May and June 2011 Follow-Ups)

As  promised, I am continuing with my follow ups in honor of the half-year.

In terms of May 2011 follow ups, as you may recall, dear reader, I spoke about The Five Boro Bike Tour, at the onset of that month (in blog posts that you may refer to by clicking here and here). In the latter of these posts, I expressed gratitude for Max Osso being able to step in that the last minute when my regular captain, Zoe Waldron, hurt her Achilles tendon, but thankfully, she graciously loaned us her tandem, so that we could participate in the event. Fortunately, she ultimately recovered for the most part, and has cycled "solo" as well as with me on a tandem on a number of occasions since that time. 




Additionally, since my May 2011 posting, I have received photographs, purchased by Achilles from Brightroom, of Max Osso and yours truly in various stages of The Five Boro Bike Tour, and I have posted one of them above today's blog entry that shows us cycling in Central Park, and one below which was taken early on in the tour.

Also in May, on May 11th, to be exact, my flowers quoted Dr, Suess saying, "Today was good, today was fun, tomorrow is another one", and now in this  half-year follow-up, I can attest to the fact that indeed, they are having fun as evidenced by the photographs of some of my honeysuckle flowers posted below.

enjoying the trellis which, as you may recall, dear reader, was installed (to serve as a hedge) on  May 17th 2011.




In another posting, this past May, the birth of my H.F. Young Clematis's flowers was announced in an entry that you may refer to by clicking here. My H.F. Young Clematis's flowers were indeed a beautiful asset to my terrace garden; however, they have a short life. Since their departure, they have left me with beautiful, yet playful, "hairy" pods, as evidenced in the collage featuring one of them in both flower and pod which is posted below.

The follow ups for June  2011 include news on my Anethum graveolens (Dill), which I wrote about approximentaly ten days ago. (This may be referred to by clicking here.) Since that time, a change has already occurred, it is sporting little yellow flowers as seen in the image  seen below. (I am in the process of rendering this image into a note-card and will release details as soon as they are available).

Other June follow-ups in terms of my terrace garden include the flourishing of my Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium), which can be seen below. (As you may recall, dear reader, when I initially wrote — please click here to read — about the arrival of my Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium), I was a little concerned it might not do well. This is because I have have attempted to grow Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium) on a number of occasions in my terrace garden, but it never fared well. Perhaps because the Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium) is in a different location within my garden, or perhaps because I have now used a different soil, it seems to be thriving this time. Still, as I've mentioned before, even though I know people do it, I cannot imagine eating these beautiful flowers — no matter how good they may be in a salad. Instead, I will render images of my Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium) into the selection of unusual communication materials that I create: invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication; all of which you can find information on, by going to my down-loadable brochure, as well as my on-line brochure or the store-front of my web-site; where purchase information is available.)  

  

My terrace garden was not the only urban garden mentioned this past June. As you may recall, twice in June of 2011, I blogged about the gardening endeavors of Danielle Rosa (who honed her green-thumb skills through an internship that she participated in at Riker's Island in New York), as she expanded the family's urban garden. (You may refer to those blog posts by clicking here and here.) As you can see from the most recent follow-up photographs (posted below) of the urban garden that Danielle revamped, it is thriving. My they grow up fast indeed!

And with the thought of how they grow up fast, I'll end  this follow-up posting with two more follow-up pictures of how one of my plants, my Ophipogon planiscapus (Black Mondo Grass) — that I have eluded to in blog enteries I've made this far this year which you may read by clicking here —  is doing now.

He's Blooming! Check out his awedome white flowers, beautifully contrasted with his black foliage. And now, as for my follow-ups . . .  that's all folks . . .




But , you dear reader, if you are a gardener, how has your garden evolved during this half -year? If you are not a gardener, what changes in the year thus far have you noticed in gardens or plantings you have seen in your area?

Where is my Spilanthes oleracea when I need him?

The unusual looking plant in the photograph (for image credits click here), which  posted above is a Spilanthes oleracea plant. Its flowers resemble pimento olives and it is somewhat of a funky plant to have in one's garden. (I can just imagine the Spilanthes oleracea plant saying 'what do you mean by funky?' — if he is anything like my Physocarpus opulifolius aka Coppertina, who took homage at being called Copper-Tone — not by yours truly by the way — and took it upon himself to express these thoughts in a blog post which you may refer to by clicking here.)

Whether you perceive the Spilanthes oleracea plant to be funky or not, it does provide a unique purpose to one's garden as it is a documented fact that when one chews on the leaves, one experiences a numbing effect on the mouth. According to an herb guide (source can be found by clicking here), "a decoction or infusion of the leaves is recommended for stammering, toothache, stomatitis, and throat complaints," and that eating a whole flower bud results in an extremely strong tingling sensation accompanied by excessive saliva production."

In 2006, I had a Spilanthes oleracea plant in my terrace garden as pictured below:

I was not taking many pictures or blogging during that time, but I can assure you that he can be seen in the far right hand corner where the purple arrow is pointing (on a direct diagonal from the SODAS sign which I only recently removed from my urban terrace garden, a gesture that I wrote about in a previous blog entry that you may refer to by clicking here).

The normally perennial Spilanthes oleracea plant, in the zone where I live and have my terrace garden is an annual. Therefore, I am not always able to find them in any of  the green-makets when growing season arrives; hence, I have not had one in my garden for a number of years. However, the Spilanthes oleracea plant is on my mind today, as I am scheduled to have a tooth extraction this afternoon —an unfortunate necessity precipitated by its being fractured.

When you are a child, you receive money for losing a tooth via the tooth fairy, but when you are an adult, you pay money — a lot of money. Money that is not easy to come by, especially in this economic downturn, but, fortunately for me, is exactly why an empathetic neighbor is loaning yours truly the money in order for me to have my tooth — which is fractured — extracted this afternoon. I am not only dismayed at the prospect of this dental procedure; I am petrified. Even though as a child I did receive a few coins under my pillow for losing a tooth, in attempt to make it a positive experience, the losing of the tooth was always fraught with fear. This is because when I was in elementary school, and my tooth became loose, close family friends threatened to tie one end of a string to my loose tooth, and then tie the other end to a door knob, then slam the door in hopes that the tooth would come out. If that did not work; the option was pliers. To this day, despite my having undergone numerous, and often painful, medical procedures due to my having Neurofibromatosis Type-One, dental pain and dental work send me into a panic.

I tried to share my anxiety by phoning someone I know named Terry, who, simply said, "I've had eight teeth extracted, including permanent," and she hung up the phone. A closer friend told me that "there are worse things than losing a tooth", and I agree with her. I certainly have had worse things happen to me, my family, my friends, and I am well aware of the "worse things" — far worse things that are happening throughout the world; still, I find myself in the need of some consolation and comfort in dealing with my physical and emotional pain in dealing with this eminent procedure. So I ask, where is my little ol' plant-friend — the one who looks like a pimento olive — when I need him? The friend I am referring to, of course, is the Spilanthes oleracea plant pictured above in the photograph at the top of this blog entry and the plant that I have been discussing. However, despite its proven ability to relieve tooth-ache pain, I confess that I do not find eating the leaves of plants appealing whatsoever. This is mostly because I enjoy taking in their beauty, and could not think of eating them — a fact that I have expressed regarding the eating of other plants — in a number of blog entries, most recently ones on Anethum graveolens (Dill), and Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium), (posts that you may refer to by clicking here and here respectively.) However, perhaps, had I not just taken in the quirky nature of my Spilanthes oleracea plant, and eaten it in a salad instead, I might not be suffering so much today. 

There are even recipes for using this salad such as the one I've posted below.

Spilanthes Salad:

1/4 cup Spilanthes leaves (Spilanthes oleracea)

1/2 cup New Zealand spinach (Tetragonia tetragoniodes)

2 cups Swiss chard leaves (Beta vulgaris var. cicla)

2 cups lettuce leaves

1 tablespoon chopped salad burnet (Sanguisorba minor)

2 tablespoons chopped garlic chives (Allium tuberosum)

Rinse all the ingredients to remove any dirt or insects that may be present. Towel dry or use a salad spinner to throughly dry all ingredients. Tear the larger leaves into bite size pieces then add all the ingredients to a large bowl and toss well.

Salad Dressing:

2 cloves garlic minced

1/2 cup olive oil

1/4 cup balsamic vinegar

1 tablespon freshly grated parmesan cheese

salt and pepper to taste

Whisk all the ingredients together in a small bowl. Prior to serving the salad drizzle the dressing over the top and toss to evenly coat all the leaves.

The salad and dressing recipe posted above is from information found in the link mentioned in the second paragraph of this post, however, I confess I have not tried this particular salad.

What I can say about the Spilanthes oleracea, from my experience, is that its quirky flowers added a sense of humor to my garden in those earlier garden years, but, as for chewing on them for numbness, I'd rather achieve that by sipping from a glass of chilled une robe de vignes, the Loire wine, or induldging in White Knights on the rocks, with a splash — just a splash of cranberry juice and a twist of lemon.

Anethum graveolens (Dill): Anise's Misnomer

Like parsley and fennel, dill (Anethum graveolens), is a member of the Umbelliferare family, known for its distinct umbrella-shaped inflorescences. I grow  Anethum graveolens, and it is truly an exquisite addition to my garden. It is wonderful to use in  homemade soups, scones, and in cookies. However, I confess that I rarely use it for such purposes because like my Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium) and my Strawberries, (plants that I have discussed in previous posts which you can refer to by clicking here and here respectively), I often find  the beauty which it adds to my urban terrace garden, keeps me from cutting it.

I have just recently learned that dill "regularly appears under the misnomer 'anise' throughout the King James version of the Bible", and, that "confusion has continued to be perpetuated partly because botanists and zoologists were not part of the team of transcribers of this authorized interpretation; and so the apricot that Adam and Eve ate became an apple, the crocodile became a whale, the bull became a unicorn and dill became anise."

My source on this trivia is credited to Abbie Zabar who included it in her book, The Potted Herb, a delightful read with beautiful drawings.

Tuesdays Thoughts: It me again, AKA "the lone white tulip" (with some thoughts on time)

Remember me? I'm the "lone white tulip" who wrote a blog entry (three weeks ago tomorrow), which you are welcome to review by clicking here, where I expressed my concerns about Sylvia Plath, the poetess, and of her accusing members of the Tulip family of having, "the mouths of an African lion", in her poem, Tulips. Tulips is a poem which Youngquist included in her April 26th post which you can reread by clicking here. My aforementioned concerns have been somewhat alleviated, because Youngquist addressed them (as she does with all of my needs) in her May 4th 2011 posting,Dearest Tulip, even you could not console Sylvia Plath, which you can read by clicking here.

Today, because my petals are starting to fall, I am keenly aware that I may be entering the last days of my life, because, as you may know, we tulips have a short life — and we are replaced by other ones in subsequent seasons.

That being the case, I want to take the opportunity to express my thoughts about what my life has been like in Youngquist's urban terrace garden — a terrace garden which is tended by her (your blogger under the title of The Last Leaf Gardener), as well as Juan V, a man she admires very much.

First, I want to express my thanks to Youngquist. Perhaps I should've done this within the Comments Menu of her blog, but I hope you will still hear me out. I am most grateful that Youngquist explained to me that sometimes you humans do not want to be be consoled when in certain instances grief or despair have taken overcome the individual. I appreciate Youngquist not only sharing the sorrow which Ms. Plath surely experienced, and by doing so, letting me know that Plath's feelings were beyond anything us tulips could do in terms of consolation (or anything else for that matter). What a relief it was for me to learn this information, and on behalf of my tulip-community, I'd like to say how relieved we, the tulip-community, are to know that our fellow-tulips did not fail their mission, yet I still feel sorrow that anyone was in such a depth of despair.

In any event, at this moment, some of the herbs, plants, shrubs and trees that make their home with me in Youngquist's terrace garden are giving me the heads-up, letting me know that I am getting too philosophical — at least for a blog entry, and now they are also reminding me that people don't read lengthy things these days. Pity, I say, because there is nothing like being a part of a garden where people come to read, and thankfully our gardener, Youngquist does spend time reading here, but I am digressing again from my original intention for today's post in which I want to discuss (briefly) my thoughts on borrowed time — since with my petals falling (as evidenced by the photographs posted below:

where a few of my petals can be seen on the black-topped surface which supports Youngquist's container-filled terrace garden), I am keenly aware that my borrowed time is closing in on me. What you see in the photographs above (in addition to my white petals), are yellow fragments (that were blown by the wind from where they were resting inside a peony flower from my gardener's Paeonia suffruiticosa, also known as a Tree Peony), a shrub whose flowers earned the rights for the cover page of my gardener's on-line brochure, as well as her downloadable brochure,where she showcases a collection of communication materials that she has designed (such as invitations that enhance any occasion, event program covers that preserve a moment in time, and greeting cards that are about more than communication), which she sells in the store-front pages via her web-site

Most of her communication materials are based on things she grows in her terrace garden, but like her Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina), I have not "made the cut" of those selected to be in those venues, although, I have heard Youngquist say that anyone can special order art prints, invitations, event program covers, and greeting cards using images of their choice from her blog entries. Therefore, if you like any images of me, her white tulip (and occasional blogger — at least Youngquist lets me post even if she does not feature me as an art print, invitation, event program cover, or even a greeting card), please leave her a comment, and I'll make sure she gets back to you.

I am digressing again! Back to what I was saying, the yellow fragments in the photograph with my petals are from my gardener's Paeonia suffruiticosa flowers. I've included a profile shot of one of the flowers which emphasizes the inner yellow part of the peony flower below,

and you might have surmised this to be the case because, the Paeonia suffruiticosa, in addition to being the cover girl for the Welcome Page of the on-line brochure and featured on the back page of the downloadable brochure, has been written about on so many occasions, including a DOZEN features: as evidenced by the following links:

May 7th, 2011

May 6th, 2011

May 3rd, 2011

May 1, 2011

April 16th, 2011

April 13, 2011

May 29th, 2010

May 22nd, 2010

April 24th, 2010

April 23rd, 2010

April 17th, 2010

April 10th, 2010

I have spent a lot of time discussing the Paeonia suffruiticosa thus far, however, my point in posting today isn't about my possible slight case of envy towards the Paeonia suffruiticosa. Rather, it's about sharing with you, dear reader, something I've learned being born a tulip, and consequently, knowing from day one that life is short (which is perhaps a reason I appreciate, as do the other tulips in this terrace garden, all the creation surrounding me, and, if I do say so myself, tulips are great at showing appreciation for life's constant surprising moments). If the world gave Facebook accounts to us flowers, and I were on it, here are a few of the photographs I'd show to share with you just some of the ways tulips embrace life:

"Excitement: Jumping for Joy"

"Kindness: Welcoming the Scent of the Rosmarinus officinalis — Rosemary Herb"

"Appreciation: Encore, Rosemary, Encore"

"Celebrating the Arrival of Antethun (Dill)"

"Awestruck: Getting a Closer Look (Starring Even) at the "Trailing Rosmarinus officinalis"

"Comfort: Resting in the Bosom of Paeonia Leaves"

So there you have it, dear reader, an inkling of some of the awesome moments we tulips have had in this terrace garden, appreciating life; knowing we only have a limited amount of time here. It's a hard concept to grasp, I realize, especially for folks who bear many burdens, but it can be done.


Maybe I am just a tulip, but I've come to learn a lot in the time I've spent in this terrace garden; however, I didn't come by this "borrowed time" insight on my own. I must confess that I came to it vis a vis a story I've often heard Youngquist tell her clients and friends about a woman who was the mother of Jennifer Mahoney. Jennifer is the subject of one of Youngquist's original Black and White photographs (which can be seen in the photograph posted below,

as well as in the Black and White Print Collections posted on Youngquist's web-site. In the photograph, Jennifer is with the man she loved who is blind. The photograph was taken of him by Youngquist at the request of Jennifer. Unfortunately, Jennifer, who suffered from a case of Spina-bifda, died before the photograph was printed. She died while in the throes of living — "running" around Manhattan in her motorized wheel chair — with her blind boyfriend in tow, in an effort to do her Christmas shopping. In the holiday rush, she misjudged the height of a curb which caused her wheel chair to topple upon her — killing her instantly.





"I always knew I was on borrowed time with Jennifer," her mother evidently told Youngquist when she attended Jennifer's wake, "and so I let her do what she wanted to do." This is a quote Youngquist recounted in one of her first blog postings in 2010 in relation to her own attitudes toward her endeavors in Black and White photography (which can be viewed here, but the quote is apropos today, as I, your blogging-Tulip, attempt to share the blessing in knowing the value of "borrowed time".