"Perfect love sometimes does not come until after the first grandchild." (Welsh Proverb)

According to a Welsh proverb, "perfect love sometimes does not come until after the first grandchild". Does this mean that perfect love comes immediately — or soon after — the birth of the first grandchild? Or, does this mean that after the first grandchild is born, perfect love does not come until after another grandchild is born?
I imagine perfect love probably comes with any grandchild, or child for that matter (although I have neither, and my maternal instincts are mainly exercised in the extreme care I offer in tending my terrace garden). In any event, whether perfect love comes with the first grandchild or not, the fact that I am my maternal grandparents' first grandchild causes me to like to believe that the first interpretation offered in the aforementioned questions is true. Not only am I my grandparents' first grandchild, but I was born on their wedding anniversary, a fact not lost on my grandmother, who can be seen holding yours truly in the black and white photograph posted at the top of today's blog entry, July 23rd 2011.


My grandmother (whom I have referred to in posts which you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here) is on my mind and in my heart this hot and humid July 23rd afternoon, for she was born on this date in 1900, and in the listings for bizarre holidays that occur on this date, both Gorgeous Grandma Day and Hot Enough for You Day are included. (I confess that I often refer to this listing because I design invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that go beyond communication — including unique selections which can be found within the pages of my down-loadable brochure as well as in the store-front pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art where purchase information is available). 


The latter of the aforementioned bizarre holidays for today  — Hot Enough for You Day — feels like an understatement, what with the oppressive heat wave that has been enveloping New York (which I have referred to in a few blog entries that you can find by clicking here as well as here and here). Consequently, I find myself on the subject of weather once again in today's blog entry. For at 3:30:12 EDT, when I was in my terrace garden, giving my containers of herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs and trees their much needed third watering of the day, the thermometer registered a little over 100 degrees as seen in the photograph posted below.

  
I hope, dear reader, that I am not a photo-artist, writer, blogger, gardener, that is turning into someone obsessed with weather, but the fact remains, in prolonged periods of heat I am concerned about things dying in my garden. Hopefully, my fears are unfounded. At least the bees seem non-plussed in the brutal heat, and they are thoroughly enjoying my Echinacea plants as evidenced by the photographs posted below.

I can certainly understand why the bees love the Echinacea's flowers: they look lovely even after the petals have fallen off, as seen in the photographs posted below.

The petal-less Echinacea flower adds a unique touch to most any cut flower arrangements that you can create to celebrate a number of occasions, including today's unusual ones of Gorgeous Grandma Day and Hot Enough for You Day, introduced to you, dear reader, at the beginning of today's blog entry, along with the Welsh proverb, "perfect love sometimes does not come until after the first grandchild". 


However, upon my reflection of that proverb, I must say that, for me, perfect love sometimes occurs in witnessing the miracle of how things grow in a garden.  

Baby, it's HOT outside . . .

On the southern wall of my urban terrace garden, I keep a thermometer (seen in the photographs posted above, taken over two consecutive days respectively, before seven o'clock in the morning). I initially got this outdoor thermometer to keep in a cold-frame which was built specifically to use in the winterizing of my garden (as discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here and you may see photographs of the cold-frame by clicking here). Winter and its freezing temperatures prompting songs like Baby, It's Cold Outside, seem a distant memory. For at 6:41:23 AM, EDT, this Tuesday morning, the thermometer registered a little over 80 degrees as it did yesterday, giving me a good indication that by late morning or very early afternoon New York City, where I live and have my lovely garden, will officially meet the heat wave criteria for the tri-state area on this summer day, July 19th 2011.

A heat wave "is a prolonged period of excessive hot weather (we have been experiencing this in New York City) which may be accompanied by humidity" and "severe heat waves have caused catastrophic crop failures." (For more details on heat waves, please click here.) In addition to the extreme heat that has plagued New York City for the past several days, even more high heat, humidity, and near 100 degree tempeatures are anticipated for the remainder of the week and throughout the weekend. Therefore, the latter part of the aforementioned quote is what has me concerned when it comes to my terrace garden; because baby, it's hot outside . . .



Under "normal" summer weather circumstances I have to water my garden, where I grow over sixty things, by hand, three times per day (early morning, late afternoon-early evening, and late at night). However, when the weather conditions are severe, I need to water more often than that or I, too, have catastrophic failures with a number of my herbs, vines, plants, flowers, trees, and shrubs. Although the task of watering is time consuming — since I do it by hand — it does give me the opportunity to attend to minutest detail of each of the things which I grow in my garden (as discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here).




The scheduling of my watering ritual is always in between my free-lance writing, movie-making, and photo-art assignments, which for the past several months have dwindled. Thankfully, the majority of them can be fulfilled by my working at home, and, therefore, I am able to maintain my garden very well. However, for part of this week I have accepted a job to work in a Lower Manhattan office all day. While it is a blessing to have an opportunity for extra income in this economy, the job is spiritually draining, which is ironic since it is in a church;  and, so, today, after I gave each of the things that I grow in my garden a generous morning drink, I began to experience a feeling (perhaps prompted by the fact that where I'd be working would be spiritually draining) which is very familiar to me, and that feeling is regret.




Regret for the things I have done in my life; and regret for the things that I have failed to do. For if I had made better choices in my life, or if I had overcome certain physical and emotional obstacles, I might have more "regular" work, or I might book bigger free-lance assignments, and I might even have a garden with a watering system like the urban garden of a woman (whom I will call TD) that I know who, like yours truly, lives in the Upper Westside of Manhattan. TD's place is thirteen blocks north and four blocks west of where I live, and, like me, she has a terrace garden. Her garden has a has a lovely Hudson River view — with no high buildings to block the view's sight lines —  so the feel is open and expansive. Because her garden is not "hemmed" in by surrounding buildings, it gets a chance to cool down at night, unlike the garden of yours truly. Her garden also has an elaborate watering system, and another thing that is unlike yours truly is  TD and her computer scientist partner own their place, which I was told that they, in 1999, renovated for $400,000 — a fact not lost on me,  who at her ripe middle-age still struggles to pay rent.

I initially met TD a few years ago in 2008, through the Achilles Tandem Program (a cycling program that I have referred to in previous posts which can be found by clicking on the following links: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, and SIX). The program, as I have said in the aforementioned posts, was initiated to enable blind, and legally blind folks like myself, to participate in cycling.




One Saturday morning after completing a ride offered by the Achilles Tandem Program where TD had been my cycling captain, I was invited by her to attend a party which she was throwing for her partner's birthday. TD and I had discussed gardening during our tandem ride, and she thought I might enjoy seeing her garden. I showed up at her party with a bottle of special vino, a box of my handmade greeting cards (which I showcase in my down-loadable brochure  as well as throughout the  store-front pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art , where purchase information is available).




I also brought TD and her partner some small cuttings from my herbs and a small — but very unique — plant from my terrace garden. I had thought that they might enjoy adding what I grew in my garden to hers. I did not know at the time that her apartment was a two story floor-through; nor did I know that her terrace garden overlooked the Hudson River and was a two floored garden chock full of numerous lush things including plants, herbs, trees, shrubs, and vines — all of which were watered by a very elaborate watering system.

At the party she served a huge array of foods, many of which were cooked on a large grill. The food was accompanied by a vast selection of wines and beers, and there were over sixty guests. Sixty guests is quite a large number to accommodate in a New York City apartment party. Therefore, the vast garden, and the enormity of the food and alcohol being served, quickly caused me to feel that all my humble (but heartfelt) gifts were inadequate, and that I too was inadequate. These feelings were cemented by the fact that the guests in attendance were highly educated and held successful jobs with large salaries. Even though I am highly educated and graduated with honors, I never landed or was even considered for employment that paid very much money. My feelings related to the personal and physical struggles that are associated with this fact came back at full force that evening. It was hard for me to accept that I was barely living pay check to pay check as everyone toasted their accomplishments with the latest and best vintage, but I nodded and smiled as they told of their success stories and was somewhat in awe that TD, with all the amenities one could ever want in her large apartment, all the loveliness in her garden, and the evident support of her computer science partner, was distressed that night because her ice-cream making machine was not working; it was only producing a cold runny soup-like dessert.

As it happens, I did ride with TD a few times after her soirée, including The Transportation Alternatives 2008 NYC Century Bike Ride , and ultimately she came 

to my garden for lunch, but, with some staff changes at The Achilles Tandem Program, TD stopped participating, so 

I don't see TD often, but, as it happens, I did see her recently on July 4th 2011, when I was on Manhattan's Westside Greenway to watch the fireworks, and so perhaps it was my seeing her again that made me think of her garden with its watering system today, and to revert to the inadequate feelings that I experienced the night of her soirée when I found myself imagining what my life might have been like if only . . .

Of course, my imagining if I had done things differently that I would be more successful by now is not only futile; it is also presumptuous and even ungrateful. It is futile because in real life there is no Control-Z or Edit+Alt+Undo, to change what one has done with their life choices. Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, has told us, "What's done, cannot be undone"; and as my father used to say, "If the dog hadn't stopped to sneeze, he'd have caught the rabbit.". 

Sometimes I think, and perhaps you do as well, dear reader, that the mental reshuffling of the cards of life choices is an effort to keep them still active, keep the possibilities still open, sparing the pain of loss and failure. For me it is interesting to note that when I, as do other folks that I know, reshuffle the past, the outcome of my imagined scenario, and the imagined scenarios of folks I know, is always to believe that, had we done other things, life for us would mean that we'd be healthier, thinner, more talented, have better jobs, and always have more money. It is interesting to note this, because rarely in the reshuffling of life choices game, do I, or folks that I know imagine the scenario being having ill health, being fatter, being less talented, or having a worse job or no job, or being poorer; or, to not be alive at all to indulge in what ifs and if onlys, which is why I pointed out that my doing this is futile, presumptuous and ungrateful.




However, on a hot morning such as today, it is harder for me to keep a good perspective as I hand water my herbs, vines, plants, shrubs, and trees, with a prayer that they will not suffer and die from this afternoon's predicted heat, since I will not be around to water them, and cannot ask others that I know to do this for me, nor can I afford to pay someone to step in for me today while I am in Lower Manhattan.




My recently added Echinacea plants seem to understand my ambivalence about leaving them for the day, reassuring me with their waves and smiles as seen in the photographs posted below,

that they will hang tough in today's heat.




And they do seem to be enjoying terrace garden life. Now if the photographs that they pose for, which are available as prints, or as images rendered into invitations that preserve a moment in time, program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, would start bringing in some revenue, they'd be earning their keep and possibly a watering system!  (-;

A Helichrysum bracteatum's (Strawflower's) Sensibility

The image posted above is of me, a lone strawflower, with a pesky ant making itself at home on one of my petals now that he has no flowers from Youngquist's Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony) to bother. You may recall Youngquist blogged about these pesky ants in a previous blog entry which you may refer to by clicking here.


Now, dear reader (as I've heard Youngquist call you), if you have been following this blog you know that, on occasion, the things that grow in Youngquist's urban terrace garden take it upon themselves to weigh in by posting on this blog including her Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony), Tulips, and her Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina).


With the knowledge that the things that grow in Youngquist's terrace garden have been posting on this blog, my comrades (my fellow strawflowers who live in a clay pot — which means we need to be watered often —  with me as you can see from the image posted below) took turns, and we drew straws (if you will excuse the pun) to see which one of us would get to write today's blog entry, and I picked the winning straw! (And its not because I look like E.T. in this picture either!)

We strawflower are members of the daisy family (but please don't hold that against us), and our Latin name is Helichrysum bracteatum. The flowers that we produce have a papery, straw-like texture, which is why you humans refer to us as strawflowers.
It is said that yellow is our traditional color but , being yellow, I take offense at that as I feel there is nothing traditional about me (or the ones that I live with in this clay pot in our blogger, Patricia Youngquist's garden), as evidenced by the photographs posted below.

According to Jean Dion, "the strawflower dries extremely easily, making this a favorite plant for gardeners into wreaths and winter-crafts." That being said, I, as a strawflower, am so glad that my gardener (AKA your blogger) is not the craft type. This means that she lets us hang out as long as possible with the herbs, vines, plants, shrubs, trees, and other flowers that she grows in her terrace garden. Besides, Youngquist will probably try and let us winter-over as she does with everything that she grows in her terrace garden. (This is a fact  which you you may read about by clicking here, and from what I have heard, everything — even things that are "not supposed to"  — come back from season to season.)
Having told you that Youngquist will not turn us strawflowers into wreaths or use us in winter-craft projects, this does not mean that she won't use images that she takes of us to include in her line of invitations that preserve a moment in time, her event program covers that enhance any occasion, or her greeting cards that are about more than communication. Information on these materials may be found within Youngquist's downloadable brochure as well as within the store-front pages of her web-site where purchase information is also available.


Meanwhile, due to our animated nature, we bring total joy and a sense of humor to even the most serious gardens. However, we almost didn't make the cut of chosen plants for Youngquist's terrace garden, because she has the weirdest association when it comes to us strawflowers.


Her association is this, apparently Ms. Youngquist's high school graduating class's student council chose the strawflower as the class's flower, and since Youngquist had a "Janis Ian" experience in high school, there is a lot of pain associated with those days. I guess I shouldn't assume that you know what I mean by a "Janis Ian" experience, dear reader, but I am referring to the song, At Seventeen written and initially sung by Ms. Ian , whose lyrics include:

". . . To those of us who knew the pain

Of valentines that never came

And those whose names were never called

When choosing sides for basketball

It was long ago and far away

The world was younger than today

And dreams were all they gave for free

To ugly ducking girls like me . . . " 

I guess you humans are really affected by these things. I've heard that Youngquist's graduating class voted for people that had the best smile, greatest legs, biggest mouth, prettiest eyes, prettiest nose, prettiest mouth, prettiest hair, prettiest feet, best body, best hands, best neck, and who were the most handsome and prettiest. These were  just some of the "honors" that did not go to our gardener and your blogger. She didn't  go to prom or even date in high school, but, hey that's no reason to associate us strawflowers with a select few of people, who may or may not have those features anymore, or who may have even excluded her from activities due to her legal blindness and her having Neurofibromatosis Type-One. It sounds as if students and teachers could be kind of thoughtless —  in fact down right cruel in those days, but whad-ya-gonna-do?

Besides how many of them have gardens in New York City with strawflowers?         

Happy June!

Well, dear reader, according to the comic strip Mutts, created by Patrick McDonnell, which is an animation that I adore (and one that I have sighted in a previous post that can be found by clicking here), we are in "half time", and, while I appreciate this animation (and often the sentiment that goes with it); I do not think "half-time" officially begins until the end of June, as that is the time the calendar year is half over, or perhaps, and maybe even more important, is the time of the onset of the remaining part of the year, and a chance to begin again.
I have had soirées in the past to celebrate the half-year mark (as evidenced in a previous post honoring last year's half-year mark, which you can refer to by clicking here), and many of my clients have found the line of invitations that I create (and that preserve a moment in time) quite suitable and elegant for such an occasion. Many selections are included in my on-line brochure, downloadable brochure, as well as the store-front pages of my web-site where purchase information is also available. 


Whether today, the first day of June, or the end of the month signify "half-time", the month of June and all the wonderful celebrations (and reasons to send cards —which can also be found within the aforementioned links — to those near and not so dear to you) are on the way. This year they include ones associated with religious observations such as the Jewish celebration of Shavout and the Christian celebration of Pentecost, as well as many confirmation celebrations. Some other festivities in June that are enhanced by sending cards and invitations include graduations, Father's Day, and the Summer Solstice, so I encourage you to "get out and reach out" with my unique snail-mail forms of communication, and roll out those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer!

"The best thing one can do when it's raining is let it rain."

The photographs posted above are of one the many flowers that only recently bloomed on my Paeonia suffruiticicosa (Tree peony) . These pictures were taken only two days after the flowers had bloomed. Flowers that took much longer to open than the beautiful flowers my beloved Paeonia suffruiticicosa produced last year. Flowers that inspired the image for the the back page of my downloadable brochure, where I feature selections from my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication. Flowers that inspired a variety of blog entries by yours truly, as evidently my Coppertina plant reported in yesterday's blog post.

And Flowers whose images I posted a few days ago in my blog entry, Blessed are those who mourn . . . , where I mentioned my concern for my dear friend KM, whose sister, MH, had suddenly died, and whose surviving family members were not letting her know of the occurrence. Soon after that blog posting, New York City, where I live, and have my terrace garden, experienced an unusually heavy downpour that had me thinking that I had it all wrong when it came to quotations. I thought it was the April showers that brought the May flowers, not the May showers that drowned the flowers.

I found myself tempted to treat my plants like the actions of an over-protective mother: I wanted to go outside and place umbrellas around the newly born Paeonia suffruiticicosa flowers, so that the heavy rain would not knock off all of their petals — especially since the flowers had just bloomed a couple of days prior, however, I did not go out and place umbrellas over my Paeonia suffruiticicosa, because my rational mind kicked in, reminding me that rain is good for flowers. 




Reminding me too of the American poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow's quote, "The best thing one can do when it's raining is to let it rain." Longfellow's quote has a "let-it-be" ring to it, and so as it continued to rain, I thought about my Paeonia suffruiticicosa's seemingly vulnerable state — newly born and subjected to an intense  downpour — but I also knew that my Paeonia suffruiticicosa would find a way to endure the rain, and that no matter what happened to it, I would love, nurture and appreciate it anyway.

There's something about rain that stills the mind, and, during the downpour, I thought about my friend KM, and of her not knowing that her sister had died, and also of how I might handle visiting her while keeping the surviving family members' confidence. My thoughts turned to JH, KM's surviving sister, and as I reflected on her, I thought of JH's granddaughters — whom I'd met on a number of occasions. I hadn't gotten a chance to speak to them at MH's funeral, but they were certainly on my mind.

The relationship that they had with the departed MH was probably not unlike the relationship that I had with my Great Aunt Grace — my grandmother's sister — someone I've referred to in previous posts which you can read by clicking here and here. In any event, upon thinking of those young girls, JH's grandchildren (which makes them the great nieces of the departed MH), I phoned JH to once again express my condolences to her, and, to share my concern for the well being of her grandchildren. It was with this phone call that I learned that JH had finally told KM that their sister MH had died. "I was on Metro North on my way to visit KM in the nursing home, " JH explained, "and I was determined in my resolve to not tell KM of MH's passing, but something was lifted when I entered KM's room, and I told her. Told her that MH had died, and, KM's reaction was accepting and beautiful." If you knew KM dear reader, you would not be surprised at this, for she is a strong woman with great faith.

This morning, when I stepped out onto my urban terrace garden to see how my herbs, plants, shrubs and trees survived the torrents of rain I was delighted to see my Paeonia suffruiticicosa was unscathed, and back to its business of flourishing, as seen in the photographs posted below:

In fact, dear reader, one of the flowers seemed to be playfully winking and waving to me (as seen below) as if to remind me that KM would endure the probable rain in her heart caused by the passing of her sister MH.

Blessed are those who mourn . . .

"It's May! It's May!"  

My peony opened today!

"It's here! It's here!" 

I am still thinking of the lyrics posted above this blog entry that are from a well-known song in Camelot.  (I posted the lyrics to it on May 1st.) Consequently, what a nice surprise to go out on my urban terrace garden this morning and find this little guy, my first peony flower of this season, from my Paeonia suffruitcosa (Tree Peony) as seen in the photograph at the top of this post.

The peony flowers are appearing much later this year than last, but it appears that they will be just as lovely. As you may recall, last spring my Paeonia suffruitcosa (Tree Peony) flowered in April, and provided the inspiration for many posts including, The Peonies Are in Bloom Again, posted on April 24th, 2010, as well as earning the bragging rights for being featured on the back page of my downloadable brochure, where I feature selections from my line of invitations that preserve moments in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion and greeting cards that are about more than communication in both venues.

Today's peony, which appears to be playfully peeking out on to my garden, is especially precious: a nice sign of life and hope for me, after having attended a funeral Mass yesterday for Ms. MH, a sister of a dear friend (KM) of mine who has very advanced multiple sclerosis, is legally blind, and was recently moved (not her choice) from her apartment — which she loved — to a nursing home on the Upper Eastside of New York City.

Although KM has severe health issues that have rendered her wheel chair bound and unable to see much of anything physically, she still managed to find joy in listening to music, and was always on top of every breaking (and non-breaking) news story. However, for now, KM is not on top of the "breaking news" story of her sister's death, because her surviving sibling, and other family members, have decided not to tell KM, that her sister MH has died.Although, it is none of my business, the family's decision to not tell KM of MH's death, and their request to me that I do the same, has deeply disturbed me. While I hate being the bearer of bad news, I abhor harboring secrets, and I am not sure how I will be able to visit KM — until she is made aware of what has happened. I don't want KM to feel that I conspired against her if she finds out I knew and did not let her know.



I was put in this position as a child by my father and his wife — in different circumstances — with the same "don't tell" rule. After moving out of the family house to be with (and to eventually) marry his secretary, my father and his wife adopted her grandson, Eric, and raised him as their own, a generous act (given that the child's mother wanted to pursue endeavors other than motherhood) that became a dark secret when they forced other family members to keep the fact that their son was adopted confidential. My father's hold over me on this matter was that the few times that he did visit would be taken away, and so because I wanted to see my dad, I kept the secret but never felt right about it during the times I was in Eric's presence.

The truth about Eric's being adopted came out nearly sixteen years ago, right after my father died, when his wife had an argument with him in which she retaliated by telling him about his adoption and that she was not his mother — but that her daughter — the woman he had believed was a sister — was his mommy.

Admittedly, this was an awful way for Eric to find out the truth of his past; however, the secretiveness in the grandparents- raise-a-kid-as-your-own (including let the child think its mother is his sister) is not uncommon. In fact, the actor Jack Nicholson was raised by his grandparents and told that the woman (who was his birth mother) was his sister. Nicholson only found out about his past when "a journalist for Time Magazine, who was doing a feature on Nicholson informed him of the fact. By this time, both his mother and grandmother had died."

Evidently Nicholson has not chosen to pursue the matter of finding out about his real father, and I don't know what Eric has done as I have not seen Eric or my father's wife since my father's funeral, but I do recall while at my father's funeral that I was wondering how would Eric feel towards me for keeping this matter secret? And yesterday, at MH's funeral, I could only imagine the betrayal KM might feel if she knew that I had knowledge of her sister's death when she knew nothing of the matter.

I am sure the surviving members of KM's family have made their decision out of what they perceive as love and protection, but who are they protecting really? Themselves because they may not be able to cope with KM's grief? Or KM who is very depressed and has not been eating much of anything since she was moved against her will into a nursing home?

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted " is a promise made in the faith both KM and I practice (a faith that the deceased MH also practiced actively). KM may have lost the use of her limbs, and most of her eye-sight, and now her apartment, but she has not, has not, lost her right to mourn.

A sensitive subject, I realize, dear reader, but I certainly welcome your thoughts on it but will leave you with a more promising thought, or at least promising image and here is what it is: whilst I was writing this post, my early morning peony opened up and embraced the day, providing some comfort, as promised, for those who mourn. (Check it out below);

Just a reminder, dear reader that most of the images from this season's garden growth will be rendered into my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, so please continue to check my web-site  for details and feel free to download my paper brochure.

BTW, if you have an immediate need and want to use a certain image for your communication needs, arrangements can be made for exclusive, custom made orders.

Singing in the Rain: The Flowers are Singing Praises for April's Showers (ahem, April's Downpours)

Tomorrow marks the end of the thirty days of this "so-called" cruelest month of April (alluded to in a previous post that can be seen by going here), and, it has been a cold and rainy one in New York City, where I live and have an urban garden on my terrace. Thankfully, with the help of April's rain, my flowers are singing; a sentiment appreciated and expressed by Mutts (in the comic strip posted above this blog entry). If you listen closely, the songs of the flowers might even be heard by you, dear reader, as you view my garden photos below:

As you can see, my white tulip (that I discussed in a blog entry this past Tuesday), has been joined by a friend, clothed in purple. I did not guess the color properly from looking at their tips (as you my recall from that post which you may click here to read if you'd like to refresh your memory or just to take a second look at the tulip's tips before they opened), but I am overjoyed by its magnificent presence.
To its immediate right are the burgundy leaves of my Avellana corylus (Contorted Hazel Nut), a plant I have written about in the past which you can reread by clicking here as well here. The twisting and turning of its branches are fun to look at during the winter months when they are bare, but the lovely textured burgundy leaves are always a miracle to behold as spring commences, and a smidgen of this can be seen in the photograph posted below:

Funny how folks shed their layers of clothes in the spring and summer months — the exact time that my plants, herbs, trees, and shrubs get dressed. In any event, The Avellana corylus will be featured in my soon to be released You Tube movie that I mentioned in yesterday's blog entry. My crew and I have had some technical difficulties, so the release has been delayed, however, we won't have nearly the delays of Broadway's, Spider Man Turn off the Dark. Please stay tuned for release of my movie, or leave me a comment with your contact information and I will contact you with the details on when and where to view it.



Meanwhile, there seems to be no delays with my plants and shrubs celebrating spring. Even the Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush), also known as Grace, is bursting with buds (as indicated in the photograph posted below), 

and it appears that it will flower this year, which will truly be a treat, as Grace has not produced any flowers in previous years, but this has been all right with me because Grace's branches and foliage stand on their own— and have added beauty to my garden in all seasons (as indicated in previous posts which you can access by clicking here as well as here and here). Grace has been the inspiration for  the collection of single-sided greeting cards that I produced, which are great to send if you want to send a greeting that goes beyond communication. Please feel free to view it via the store-front of my web-site where purchase information is available.

Also there is a new voice that joined the chorus of my flowers, and that is the presence of these little white flowers (seen in the picture below) on my hakonechola macra 'All Gold' (Japanese Grass) whose foliage provided the inspiration for my 2010 Christmas card, as you may recall from a prior post.

Not to be out had, my Phlox subulata has come out of its winter hibernation to grace my garden with its presence as seen below:

Finally, in terms of today's post (but not my garden where there is much more growth than this blog entry can hold), my H.F. Young Clematis, is once again bursting with buds as you can see in a photograph posted below.

These precious buds never fail to provide inspiration and even hope, something I discussed last season when remarking on the on going gift of the H.F. Young Clematis.

Most of the images from this season's garden growth will be rendered into my collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, so please continue to check my web-site and on-line brochure for details and feel free to download my paper brochure.

BTW, if you have an immediate need and want to use a certain image for your communication needs, arrangements can be made for exclusive, custom made orders.

Happy end of April, dear reader, with a suggestion to my gardener comrades — go out into your garden and join your buds and flowers in their song of praise.