Maturity (in the garden, not me)

My garden is yielding to maturity. But not me, no sir-ree. Okay, well, maybe a little. Seed heads are drying on their stems. Flower blossoms too. And it's time to start gathering them for an abundance of free spring sowing next year.

Dill is one of my favorites to gather. I love to plant a large grouping each Spring. I touch, sniff and fondle them regularly. Remember, I lack maturity.

Cosmos seeds are a must. Their blooms help bring pollinators to the garden and their dill like appearance so wispy and light is hard to resist.

And marigolds, are good bullies in the garden. Undesirable pests avoid their natural repelling nature. I collect the whole dry heads easily for next years bumper crop of sunny blooms.

Finding ways to bring a little garden to the table? Me too. I try to find ways to bring some to the table by searching out some mini varieties of my favorite herbs and veggies. I planted miniature romaine lettuce among some of my potted plants on our patio to nibble at will. And I'm completely smitten with tiny Basil Pistou. Their lovely herbal fragrance would charm the socks (or pantyhose, maybe girdles. Wait, folks don't wear those anymore do they?) off wedding guests attending summer nuptials! Maturity forth coming, I promise.

I treasure my wire gate. It's a fine sturdy trellis in our garden. It's flanked on one side with light and fruity lemon cucumbers and zinnias on the other. It's rarely in the same place each year but that's what I love about my found wire gate, it's versatility and constant up-cycle-ability.

Whoa, I can't turn my back for one minute!

Way too much maturity happenin' around here!

Re-purposed

It's no secret around here, that I like red. All shades of red. But it's the rusty, bricky, oldy red that really floats my boat. I'll reserve the conversation that this is an age related ailment for another time. It's also known that I have a penchant for re-purposing things, recycling, upcycling, whatever.

See, there is just too much dadgum rusty metal, wire, rakes, nuts, bolts, chains and OLD TRUCKS in the country. And when you live on a 100 year old farm like ours, you can be sure there are plenty of nicely aged pieces to choose from.

I've come to appreciate the varying hues, character, and stages that a little weather and age will impart to a miscellaneous hunk of metal. So much so that if I spot some anywhere. Even at the cemetery (sorry Jules), I swipe it. Don't get worked up. It was laying alongside a ditch, and no, there were no birth and death dates on it. Anywhere. okay?

So while you're deciding whether or not I'm still your friend. Check out my address.
Rusty wire numbers, check. Old rusty battery cover, check check.

P.S. True friends brake for rusty stuff. And cough up trunk space in a flash.