Friday, May 31, 2013

The History of Iten's Acres: The End of History April, 2012

 The End of History

     Okay.  It's not actually the end of history; just the end of the "History of Iten's Acres" segment of this blog.  As you remember (right?), the back of the property had just been bush hogged and now I had to decide what to do with all that space.  Decisions, decisions, decisions.  Three things had already been decided:  a "show stopper" as one entered the "expanse," an orchard, and a wildflower area.  Lots of things were still to be decided, and the make up of the area has changed over the years.  Things added.  Things removed.  I'm sure there are still some changes to come.  I certainly have a few things I would like to do.
    The "show stopper" ended up being a pair of crab apples:  one deep red, one pinkish white.  The show only goes on in the spring, but as you enter the back through the path through the trees in mid-May usually, the first thing that catches your eye--or at least is designed to catch your eye--are two trees ablaze in color.  They catch my eye, of course, but I'm looking for them.  They are still young so the color splash should only get bigger as the years pass by.
     The orchard is still growing.  Katie used to be Thompson helped me get it started that first fall.  I guess I should name it after her.  Immortalize her.  If my memory serves me right, it was a cold even snowy (?) day when we planted those first saplings.  But my memory is not to be trusted.  The first two trees were two "cherry" trees.  Unfortunately, they bloomed and had fruit last summer for the first time, and the fruit looked and tasted an awful lot like pears.  I guess I need to add some real cherry trees to the orchard one of these days.  Also in the orchard are apple trees, blueberry bushes, raspberry and blackberry bushes, some dying peach trees (Surely, there is a brand of Yankee peach trees somewhere.  I love peaches!), and a hazel nut bush.  I need another one of those in order for it to produce nuts I think.  Only the pear cherry trees have produced so far.  I would like to add some peaches that won't die, and I heard that there is a Northern plum tree out there somewhere.  When they all mature, I can fight it out with the birds and wildlife for pie making rights.
     The wildflower area was easy to do--just don't mow it and let it grow.  I do mow paths through it so that I can meander between them and enjoy them up close.  And I do mean meander.  There's little I enjoy more than a slow trek through the wildflowers.  I have, in fact, let the area expand over the years and even added a little wild area detached from the main garden.  I may add another one this fall.  To be honest, I was stunned by the vast variety of flowers and grasses that just grow naturally in the area.  And every year God adds a few new ones.  Last year, for example, my gardening angels planted spiderwort and prairie coneflowers in the wildness.  I suppose I'm strange but I delight in such surprises.  It's a fascinating spot to spend some idle time year around.  What?  Yep, you caught me.  I have added some flowers of my own and usually throw a bag or so of wild flower seed in there every late fall or early winter.  You do know that the best time to throw in those seeds is after the first snow?  They then go through the natural sequence of cold and wet that they go through in nature.  The only unnatural things I've planted in here are hundreds of daffodils and a few hyacinth.  The deer and other creatures ignore them, and they are not intimidated by the battle with the natural stuff already out there.  Competition does not scare them.  I expect that in a few years Wordsworth or one of his disciples will want to come, stand on the top of my hill, and write a poem about them.
     I have added two other areas to the back acres in the last few years.  One, despite the fear of deer, I put a flower bed in the back.  It's made out of old cement blocks I found on the property.  I hope all you Better and Homes and Garden folks aren't too aghast at my choice of material.  And I did hedge my bets by putting it right up near the tree line--a hop, skip, and a jump from the back of the house.  Well, I can't hop, skip, or jump anymore, but you get the picture.  Close.  I think if I ran at full speed, I could get there in a day or two.  Only once have I caught deer starting to nibble, and I fired my .22 in the air and away they fled.  Now, they're hop, skip, and jump experts.  And a rabbit was chewing on my phlox in there last summer.  He is no longer among the living, and it appears he did not pass on the information in the genetic code of his ancestor.  He, too, is no longer with us--the tulip muncher has met his end.  Nope, not a single regret.  It's a lovely bed by the way:  daffodils, iris (of course), phlox, coneflowers, lilies, tulips, corydalis, monkshood.  Beauty from early spring to frost.
      The other new addition is the Rock Pile.  It, too, is gorgeous, especially right now in early spring.  The thrift and the creeping phlox are spreading like crazy carpeting the area.  And there are some daffodils, iris, lilies, balloon flowers, and coneflowers as well as other stuff in here as well.  I enjoy it immensely.  Even if in the winter it is just a pile of rocks.
     The main thing I would like to do back here is add some decent size trees--not many, just a few.  I've tried small ones but they don't last long.  Dinner for the deer and ground hogs.  Thus, the need to get some trees a little more developed than the sapling stage.  Time will tell.  As for now, I just spend some quiet time sitting on the green throne at the top of the hill, taking in the beauty and the silence, feeling the breeze, and dreaming of what the next few years will add to the History of Iten's Acres.

Today at Iten's Acres: Self-Discipline April 30, 2012


I made myself wear my Cardinal hat as I worked outside.
I made myself plant some more flowers.
I made myself take a few pictures of new blooms. (Firsts today: periwinkle; wild geraniums)
I made myself feed the swallows.
I made myself have a nice chat with my neighbor and pet Bonnie.

Man, do I possess some self-discipline or what? Forcing myself to do all those horrible things. And in one day! Sometimes I amaze myself.

Today at Iten's Acres: The Unhappy Hunting Grounds April 29, 2012

Daniel Boone would not be proud of me tonight. Had another flower eating rabbit in my sights--5 times. 5 misses. Do rabbits chuckle in disdain?

Today at Iten's Acres: The Happy Hunting Grounds April 25, 2012

The neighborhood fox has been busy hunting in my "woods" and my neighbor Dennis' strand of trees as well. Happy hunting red; may all the squirrels and rabbits be caught with their backs turned.
More buds on the iris!!
Hibiscus and balloon flowers coming up. The Rainbow Bed by the house must have 50 balloon flowers in it. It's going to be a blue summer and that's a good thing.

Today at Iten's Acres: Focus Groups April 23, 2012


Today at Iten's Acres: A Visitor April 22, 2012

 Did some mulching. I could do it all year I imagine and still not be finished. I enjoy doing it at least. Also, did a little planting--seeds: morning glory and cosmos. I know, I know, more morning glories? You see, the huge light blue ones don't seem to reseed themselves for some reason; so new ones every spring.
Had a pheasant passing through. They never stay. Beautiful birds!
Had to cover things tonight. And tomorrow night too. Will May 15th ever get here? "Do all things without murmuring. . ." I'm trying.
Robin's have built their first nest--across the pond. Now when I walk over there I can get called bird names by the redwings and the robins. I hope my self-esteem can stand it.

Backroads of Morrow County: Serenity April 20, 2012

I took the back roads to lunch today--gravel roads and the "paved" roads that are actually just decades of patches, rougher than the gravel roads. It's a lovely trip. Most of the fields are still in stubble; some have been recently plowed; some have wheat coming up (I guess that's what it is), five, six inches tall--kelly green, some are hills landscaped in Angus cows. Little or no "traffic," if you do meet someone, waving is obligatory. One farm has sheep and one alpaca--do they have "guard alpaca"? He knows he's the king--standing regally surveying his kingdom of wool and mutton. I pause at one bend in the road next to a place with its flowered yard, idyllic red barns, visible serenity. I do feel sorry for you poor folks that have to live in the city.

Riding Iten's Acres: Finally--Singular April 18, 2012


Fed the swallow: yep, one showed up for just a few seconds. Once he or she finds a mate, I can get back to feeding the swallowS. Can't wait.
Had a good chat with my neighbor Dennis (and Bonnie).
Firsts: trillium, butterfly tulip

Riding Iten's Acres: Feeding the Bluebirds April 17, 2012

 Feeding the swallows again. Still no swallows. Of course, I just cut the front today, maybe they'll be out back tomorrow. I should just go and look in Dennis' shed to see if they're in there building nests. There were some bluebirds today. They like the bug feast engendered by mowing as well, but they are not as bold as the swallows. To watch them for awhile, I have to turn off the mower and just sit. The bluebirds then do their hunting in the mowed areas. Lovely creatures. And, the goldfinch have bloomed as well by the way.
I like to stop right at the bend in the driveway where it winds around the old red maple and goes straight up to the house. On the left is the dogwood gloriously white. On the right is a redbud living up to its name. In the middle, up by the house, is a deep scarlet crab apple. It's a lovely view.
Sadly, I must restart the mower and go back to "work." I do, however, sit there for awhile enjoying the beauty of the trees and the loveliness of the bluebirds and goldfinch flitting about. Oh, did I mention the flock of robins enjoying the acres today. They're are so "common," I often overlook their beauty.
It's a pity that we miss so much just because we don't take the time to stop and observe.

Today at Iten's Acres: BYOT April 15, 2012

 I actually don't have to cover things tonight! The bees in the old dead Sentinel are active--abuzz with energy. Love 'em. Planted a few things today. I don't know why. That just means I'll have more things to cover next time it turns frosty. Ugh. Spent some time on the green throne at the top of the hill. If you come to visit, you'll have to bring your own. Rain tomorrow. I hope. It's been a dry April.

Today at Iten's Acres: Horticulturists!!! April 13, 2012


Two firsts: bluebells and azalea (three cheers for the horticulturists who developed a Yankee azalea. Now if he or she can just develop a Yankee crepe myrtle.)

Heron in The Sentinel--checking out the pond. So graceful for such a big bird.

FAS notwithstanding: This year April showers will not bring May flowers. The May flowers are already here.

Walking Iten's Acres: Rain Drops Keep Falling April 12, 2012

 It's amazing what a good day's rain can do to perk things up. Bluebells everywhere. (Can the coral bells be far behind?) Triteleia started blooming as well. And the crab apples are in their glory. The pond is surrounded by white clouds of blossoms; the scarlet and white ones by the house and in the back meadow are mixing their colors together in a lovely visual symphony. And the redbud and dogwood are still glorious as well.
(One month til the freeze day. Can I sustain my paranoia until then?)

Walking Iten's Acres: A Feast Day April 9, 2012


Two work crew: No. 1--planting day lilies (supervisor: Bonnie)
No. 2--cover up for frost warning

Company: Had two nice walks today with the Outlaw Gang.

Available today at the "feast for your eyes" buffet: flowering plum, apple, dogwood, redbud, flowering almond, tulips, daffodils, grape hyacinth, white grape hyacinth, stardrift, the lone iris, primrose, red and white bleeding hearts, yellow corydalis, creeping phlox, wild phlox, thrift, glory of the snow, magnolia, quince, currant, pear, dwarf cherry, forsythia, red and white crab apple, mountain bell, marsh marigold, dianthus, pansies, dog-tooth violet, forget-me-not, Lenten rose, periwinkle, creeping myrtle, lamium. And the gardening angels have sprinkled thousands of violets everywhere.

Walking Iten's Acres: The Star April 7, 2012

 My gardening angels have spread forget-me-nots into a completely different area. I love forget-me-nots. The ferns didn't like the cold morning. Even covered, I may have lost a few. The star at this particular time is the rock garden. Thrift and creeping phlox cascading over the stones; waterfalls of color. Seven bouquets of white daffodils with pink trumpets. The red blooms of the quince. The yellow foliage of the spirea. Beautiful.
The Easter bunny has been eating my tulips. "Here comes Peter Cottontail hopping down the--bang. Heh Heh.

Today at Iten's Acres: Sans Swallows April 6, 2012


Today at Iten's Acres: Arbor Day April 4, 2012

Planted this year's group of Arbor Day trees (saplings). These are for the next generation. Hope someone that loves beauty gets this place after I'm gone. The old apple tree has finally taken blossoming seriously. The old dogwood is in its glory especially with the redbuds around it. The pond choir is complete: the falsetto of the peepers has been joined full force by the baritones of the bull frogs. Daffodils still blooming; some have just started to bud. Tulips are out in force. The race is on for first iris bloom; looks as if the reigning champion is about to be dethroned for the first time at Iten's Acres by a small orangish yellow newcomer in the Morning Glory bed up front on the Acres.

Thursday, May 30, 2013

Walking Iten's Acres: The View from Iten's Acres, Spring 2012 March 30, 2012

The View from Iten's Acres, Spring 2012

     We have lots of little idioms connected with spring in the American vernacular.  You know:  "spring forward"--when we "want" to give up an hour's sleep to have more daylight even though the days are already getting longer all by themselves.  Or "he has a spring to his step" implying energy, bounce, elation.  (Not to be used of anyone the morning they "spring forward.")  Monetarily, we are often encouraged to "spring for it," pick up the tab so to speak.  Deplete the extra bank account.  (This is rarely said by the person expected to do the "springing.")  And then there is always the "spring fling"--a time of joyous celebration.  Anyway, the word "spring" has a lot of connotations attached to it, and such is the case for me as I walk Iten's Acres here in the spring of 2012.  For me, it's a time of mixed emotions.
     Actually it all started with the winter.  Only one good snow, not much cold, not really a winter.  Proof?  I had daffodils coming up in early January.  I had a fern that lived through the entire winter.  Yep, the entire winter.  Never died.  Poor thing must be more addled than I am.  The calender looked normal; the weather was bizarre.
     And then things really heated up.  Long before spring officially arrived, the warmth of spring swooped in.  Ohio has been rehearsing for summer for over a month.  Seventies and even the low eighties.  Thunderstorms.  High humidity.  Peepers.  Flowers blooming a month early.
     Now as a flower addict that should be viewed as a good thing.  Right?  There should be a "spring in my step" as I traverse the Acres.  As I walk each day, the blooms of late April and May are already here en masse.   Usually in mid-March there are a few early crocus scattered here and there, snow drops, and perhaps the dwarf daffodils in, where else, the Spring Bed.  This March?  The willow trees are already "leafed out," and the ancient maple is ready to follow suit.  I have gorgeous daffodils everywhere.  And I do mean everywhere.  All the beds except the Blue Bed have a host of them.  (Horticulturists have not yet "invented" a blue daffodil.)  The pond is surrounded--hundreds of yellows, whites, and pinks gracing the shore line.  All the places I've "naturalized"--I love naturalizing--are bursting with blooms.  You can't stand anywhere on my property without seeing a host of daffodils.  Stunning.  In a couple weeks I expect to have a thousand daffodil blooms on Iten's Acres.  The crocus for the most part have already bloomed and faded away until next year.  A few of the traditionalists are still popping up daily.  They refused to be enticed by the weather and are adhering to the calendar.  And hyacinth are everywhere.  You can find them blindfolded.  Ahhhh, the common scents of spring.  There are corydalis, grape hyacinth in all their colors, dwarf iris, even the tulips are joining the parade.  It's a joyous, beautiful walk.
     But it's a month early.  And being human, I struggle with embracing my "spring fling," the "good" of the beautiful landscape without expecting a disaster soon to come.  Why are we humans like that?  Okay, why is this human like this.  Instead of being content and fully embracing the good times of blessing, I keep thinking some "evil" payback must be on the way.  Sigh.  If only I could be content and fully embrace the joys without those fears ricocheting around my mind.  I mean, the "frost free" date for Ohio is May 1st.  That's almost two months away.  The forsythia just bloomed.  FAS says I have three snows yet to come.  (If you have seven forsythia does that mean 21 snows?  By the way, thanks Mom and Chloe for the forsythia starts.  They've done well.)
     Anyway spring is here in full force.  My walks are lovely.  But . . .  What's that old verse we use to say as kids:  "Spring is here, the grass is ris" I wonder where the flower is?  Oh, there you are you blooming idiot."  Ahhh,  if only this idiot would enjoy his "spring fling," walk with a spring in his steps in the full confidence that a real winter isn't lurking behind the jet stream waiting to spring forward and make me spring for it. 

Walking Iten's Acres: Fortes March 29, 2012

 Firsts--Lamium. I spiffed up Mom's window garden--pansies (my name sake) and calla lilies. The azalea are getting ready to bloom. Peonies starting to emerge. Some more forget-me-nots remembered to bloom. And the iris are starting to bud. It's not even April yet! I don't know if I can handle this early stuff. I think the robin believes I take my walks so I can follow him around while he sings for me. Loud is his forte.

Today at Iten's Acres: Tough Day March 28, 2012

 Windy. I was forced to just sit on my green "throne" at the top of the hill and take in the beauty. The bluebirds joined me. And Gus. Whew! Tough day. Oh. First: Flowering Almond.

Walking Iten's Acres: Late Frosts May 26, 2012

Confessions of a flower addict on the eve of a hard spring frost. What's the old saying? "Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you." I knew that summer-like spring would come back to get us--being the optimist that I am. Ahh well. The pear blossoms are doomed. The old dogwood which is about to burst into bloom will take a hit. I don't know how the snowball bush will respond. This is the first year it's developed buds. The bulbs will be fine. Even if some of the buds get hit, the bulb will be okay. I guess I can try to cover some of the things that are up way too soon, tricked by the warmth: smaller bleeding hearts, astilbe, hosta, trout lily, lungwort (ugly name; lovely little pink blooms in the shade.) Oh well, maybe the cold will take out some of the multitude of ticks. And the iris will still be coming--the queen of flowers.

Walking Iten's Acres: What's in a Name March 24, 2012

Firsts: bleeding hearts--I love those things; bi-colored grape hyacinth; dog-tooth violet (nope, I have no idea where the name comes from)
Finally saw the meadow lark. I've been hearing him sing the last few days. Today he decided to show himself.

Today at Iten's Acres: The Star of Spring March 20, 2012

 Yes, it is now officially spring. The star of spring is, of course, the daffodil. They come up and bloom anywhere--even in the trees and the wild area. My property is today immersed in them: yellows, whites, pinks, even some red and orange. All the beds have them. The pond is under siege. Must have at least 500 blooms spread everywhere you look. And there's more to come! And after they have bloomed and gone "dormant," they will actually be creeping along under the soil--spreading, so that they can be even more glorious next spring. Ahhh--the daffodil!

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Walking Iten's Acres: Confused March 10, 2012

Ten days before spring even officially arrives. Yet, the crocus are blooming everywhere--even in the wild area which is usually a couple of weeks behind the front of the Acres. More blooming each day. Daffodils budding by the hundreds. The dwarf iris started blooming mid-week. The woodpeckers are hyper active. Are they scoffing, laughing, or just starting to flirt early. Predicted temps in the 60s by the end of the week. But---it was 22 degrees this morning. Heavy frost. The snow birds are still here--in mass. It doesn't even look as if they've packed their bags for the trip north. The forsythia haven't bloomed yet. (FSA keeps whispering in my ear, "Three more snows AFTER the forsythia blooms.) The gladiolas and calla lilies are sitting there daring me to plant them. Ohhh, the joys and agonies of a flower lover in Ohio in 2012.

Today at Iten's Acres: Lambion March 1, 2012

Okay is this a "lamb" day or a "lion" day? A lambion day? Or is this an out on a limb day? My FAS demands a answer.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Walking Iten's Acres: Acceptance February 27, 2012

Bluebirds. Red-winged blackbirds. Baseball hat instead of stocking hat on walks; no gloves. A cool breeze that feels good. Maybe spring actually is coming early this year?

Walking Iten's Acres: Paranoia February 25, 2012


Today at Iten's Acres: Man Stuff February 23, 2012

I think I may do some manual labor early next week. I need to cut some things down, rake a few beds, haul some dirt around. Man stuff. Oh, yeah. At least twice a year or so I do real work. (More than that if you count sitting on a riding lawn mower work.) I just can't figure out why I feel so sore the day after? Oh well. A man's got to do what a man's got to do.

Today at Iten's Acres: Day Three February 20, 2012

Day Three: lots of more yellow crocus, the first aconite of spring, the first Lenten Rose (white), the pussy willow up front "bloomed." (The pussy willow by the pond doesn't count it starts "blooming" in December.)

I know there have been a couple of 24 hour periods since "Day Two." But once the first flower blooms; any "day" that doesn't have a "new" bloom no longer counts. February could be really short this year.

And how do those soft little crocus push their way through ground that is as hard as concrete? Amazing.

Today at Iten's Acres: Spring Has Sprung February 17, 2012

Spring has officially arrived. Yeah, I know the snow birds are still flitting around. The forsythia haven't bloomed yet so we have at least three snows to come--or so says the old "legend." (No, I don't know what a new legend would be.) And yes, the daffodils, tulips, glory of the snow, aconite have all been poking out checking on the weather for a couple weeks already. And I have my eyes on the snowdrops and the Lenten Rose because they've been budding since the weekend. But the official arrival? The first crocus bloomed this morning--lovely purple! (Sure, you city dwellers can be jealous.)

Walking Iten's Acres: A Warm Coat February 11, 2012

There's three inches of snow on the ground. It's frigid. There's a blustery wind. And my neighbor's alpacas think they're in heaven. Just sitting out in the open as happy as they can be. I guess God makes a warm coat.

Today at Iten's Acres: A Birthday Gift February 7, 2012

My friends, the outlaws Bonnie and Gus, gave me a gift last night at about 3 AM. They had it out with a skunk on my patio. Did you know that smell can permeate your entire house? I think I'll buy myself some air fresheners for my birthday. And not pet my furry friends for a few days. Slow learners those two.

Walking Iten's Acres: The Dead of Winter February 6, 2012

The Dead of Winter

    Sounds ominous:  "the dead of winter."  To be honest, I'm not quite sure what that idiom means.  I assume that it refers to the middle of the winter season, time wise.  I don't think it applies to the flora since everyone knows they're just dormant, waiting for mid-March to spring back into life.  But again, I'm not sure.  Maybe the "dormant of winter" just doesn't sound so chilling.  Who knows?  Someone I'm sure, but not me.  So, assuming that it is a time appellation, everyday now--early February--I walk the Acres in "the dead of winter."
     This winter, however, hasn't been quite so dead in many ways.  So far.  It hasn't been terribly cold--only one day in the single digits.  We've had some snow here in Morrow County, but it hasn't lasted very long, unlike last winter when it snowed before Thanksgiving, and I think the ground was white until April.  We even had a tremendous ice storm.  And cold.  This winter, however, has been, and is currently, not very cold or flaky.   But, of course, we have six weeks to go officially.  And I can remember significant snow as late as April and cold snaps in the first weeks of May.  So the final "verdict" is not in yet.
     As I walk this time of year, though, snow-cold or dry-warm, I enjoy my treks.  Just walking the Acres is good exercise for my old arthritic bones and aging heart I'm sure.  It always takes awhile.  Remember:  "walk slowly" is the Acres' motto.  And this time of year has it's uniqueness.  The ground, even though it's been rather warm (less cold anyway), is quite frozen.  Hard as cement at times.  It's also easy to see what things need to be accomplished before spring arrives and where new shrubs or trees would fit nicely for next year's improvements.  In addition, the snow we have had has "pushed down" much of the old growth; I can see all the way through my neighbor's pine "forest" by this time of year.  I am tempted to sneak over there for a peak.  Okay.  I confess.  I'm guilty of trespassing.  It is so quiet and calm under those trees even on the windiest days.  I can see why the deer enjoy it there.
     Jobs that need to be done before spring?  I have several trees--small--that have to give way to the saw.    Some small trees have to go that are coming up in the rock garden right next to the house.  I cut those down every winter, but they return for another "battle."  I have a couple of scraggly pine trees that I want to remove so the flower beds next to them can get more light.  There are also a number of trees coming up in the midst of the huge conifer in the front of the property.  I want to get rid of the competition.  Wish I had a chain saw, but I don't, so Iten power will have to do.  The exercise won't hurt me, and I'd probably lose a hand or a foot to a chain saw being the oaf that I am with tools.  Another pre-spring chore is hauling all the fallen limbs back to the brush pile in the wild area.  Eventually, the pile will be large enough to provide shelter in the winter for the creatures that make their home here.  I have some holes to fill as well.  A muskrat has made my pond his home this winter, and my canine friends have been eagerly digging holes in hopes of having that elusive muskrat meal.  Muskrat love it is not.  If I don't fill the holes, my lawn mower will get stuck come spring and summer.  The outlaw gang has been very persistent in their pursuit.  You would think that they were dogs or something. . . oh, wait. . .
     And this winter as I walk I have kept an apprehensive eye on the flower beds and other areas where I know flowers have been planted--naturalized.  The poor things have been befuddled by the warm weather.  Now the pussy willow is always full of buds, so I don't worry about it--at least the monster bush by the pond.  And there are other plants that stay green all winter as well:  Lenten roses, mountain laurel, dwarf conifers, iris, rhododendron, azalea (more red than green), and primrose to name a few.  But as early as January this year, I have had daffodils coming up.  And now, tulips, hyacinth, lilies--particularly the pink ladies, and the crocus are emerging.  I suppose that's normal for the crocus, but still I fret.  Oh me of little faith.  I'm sure such winters have occurred countless times over the years and all has been well.  But . . .  Anyway, such things occupy my searching eyes as I walk.  And, of course, the sin of anticipation has already set in as I imagine what new things will pop up this spring in the places where I planted them last fall.  The old mind churns as the old feet walk.  Oh, and winter lovers (like myself) don't worry:  no forsythia yet so according to the old legends we have at least three snows to come!
     Anyway, all of this is just to say that walks in "the dead of winter" are actually quite lively.  Things to see.  Work to imagine.  (I may even do some of it.)  Fears to assuage.  Exercise for the mind, the body, and even the soul.
    

Today at Iten's Acres: My Order February 3, 2012

Okay. Enough is enough. I am now ordering at least two more good snowfalls--five inches are more. At least three weeks where the temperature never rises above freezing. And this has to happen now--maybe the first week of March is acceptable. NOT April. And Jennifer Myers since you are the only weather authority I know, let's get to it!

Monday, May 27, 2013

Today at Iten's Acres: Groundhog Day January 31, 2012

I saw him on Sunday. Frisky. Energetic. Gamboling all over the hillside. Stupid groundhog. His day isn't until Thursday. Why we give a fat, ugly, destructive rodent a day, I don't know? By the way, no doubt that he saw his shadow. I can never remember what that means. Six more weeks of winter? Spring's coming early? Does it even count if it happens on January 29th? Does it count if he comes out when the sun is behind a cloud and I shoot the varmint before he can see his shadow? The only good groundhog is a dead groundhog. Undoubtedly part of the curse. And while I'm pontificating, the only good squirrel is a dead squirrel. And the only good deer is venison. I mean, who was the "genius" who saw a groundhog on February 2nd and then marked his calendar for six weeks to see what would happen? And how many eons did he do it to come up with his theory? The only good thing about the inane superstition we call Groundhog Day is the movie.

The History of Iten's Acres: A Lark in the Meadow January 20, 2012

A Lark in the Meadow

     "Lark":  "a merry or hilarious adventure."
     The "history" of the back of Iten's Acres is more involved than the front of the property.  Out front, I just picked a spot I liked, put in a flower bed, added flowers, and started looking for another spot.  No big deal.
     But when I bought the Acres, I didn't have the slightest idea what was in the back.  No clue.  From the trees right behind the house to the back of the property--and I wasn't even sure where that was--it was an overgrown tangle.  My first weekend here I forged my way through the tangle to see what I could find.  A lark in the meadow so to speak, though it wasn't really a meadow yet--just wild.  Yet, my first trek didn't uncover anything amazing--no trees of significance, no hidden pond, no Eldorado, no cool giant huge boulders, nothing to conquer.  My dreams of being the next conquistador quashed.  Not that anyone with a conscience would want to be a conquistador.  All I found was a small hill--the property slopes down toward the back of the Acres, and a wire fence that I assumed was the line between my land and the neighbor's land behind me.  I also discovered  that it was a haven for the neighborhood deer herd.  They fled like bouncing super balls when I came thrashing through the wilderness.  It was fairly obvious that they were not very brave.  I mean, they had me outnumbered a dozen to one, but away they bounced.  Obviously, this was not the "home of the brave" (at least not for the last two centuries anyway).  So the first foray into the wildness, though enjoyable, uncovered nothing mind-boggling, except that the deer obviously considered it their home, not mine.
     After Daniel Boone-ing my way back up to the house, the next course of action was obvious.  Clear away the tangles.  I asked my neighbor Aaron if he thought I could just mow it down with my old riding mower.  He told me not to try because the land was probably covered with large stones.  That did not prove to be true.   The stones out there proved no threat to my riding mower.  I honestly doubt, however, if my old mower could have handled all that brush.  Not to mention that it probably would have disappeared into one of the myriad of groundhog holes that were uncovered once the area was mowed.  So, good advice.  Wrong reasoning, but good advice.  I wonder how many times I've been guilty of that!
     Anyway, the solution to clearing away the tangles was to hire someone with a bush hog.  It took me a month, until September, to find someone.  It took him several hours to clear it.  For some reason he left two small circular areas claiming that he had seen evidence of birds there.  Really?  Birds living in a thicket in the country.  Who knew?  He also started to cut into my trees behind the house even though I had specifically told him not to do that.  Fortunately, I had gone out to check on his progress and caught him in the act before too much damage was done.  "It's hard to find good help these days."  I guess the power of the machine went to his head?
     Once cleared, the next step was to decide what to do with the area.  It was undeniably a much bigger space than out front.  There was the hill.  There was the deer herd and the groundhogs who would no doubt appreciate me planting flowers and small trees that they could munch on.  (And they have done that on occasion, but not all the things I've planted.  Some they eat.  Some they ignore.  A matter of taste I guess.)  Anyway, decisions to be made.  I knew I wanted a wild flower area.  I knew I wanted to begin an orchard. As mentioned, I was leery of putting actual flower beds out there because of the beasts.  Although, at Mom's suggestion I was considering a rock garden on a barren hill side.  In addition, I wanted to put some larger trees in the area.  Decisions.  Decisions.
     So that's a little introduction to the history of the back acres.  I wish I could tell you that the meadow larks have moved in each spring to nest.  They haven't.  They nest down the road a little bit.  Beautiful birds with a beautiful song.  What I have done with my "meadow"?  I'll tell you next time--fill in the details.  That will probably be the last chapter in the History of Iten's Acres.  Hope the journey through the last six years of this little patch of the world hasn't been too boring.  But for these six years of eternity this has been my place on earth, loaned to me by the God who created it all.  And it has indeed been a lark.
 

Walking Iten's Acres: These Boots Are Made for Walking January 17, 2012

When I get new boots down here on the "farm," I regress to my childhood. When the snow is on the ground, I kick my way through the highest drifts. Now that the Acres are under water, I walk through the puddles, not around them. And I bask in the scolding from my 98 year old mother, when I track mud into her room. Ahhh, the good young days.

Walking Iten's Acres: First Snowfall January 13, 2012

First Snowfall

     On a day like today--a beautiful snowfall--I always think of a poem I used to teach in my American Literature classes.  It's not a poetic masterpiece in a technical sense, but I don't worry about that stuff anyway.  I suppose that as someone who taught literature for thirty years that those things should matter to me, but they don't.  Not at all.  I don't care if it's iambic pentameter or whatever it is.  I don't care what the rhyme scheme is or even if it has one.  I prize a poem if I can see the imagery and if I can feel the emotion of the poet.  So, here's a poem for you.  Stand by my window with me, watch the falling snow on the trees and field, read, and feel the pathos--the moments in our lives when beauty, sorrow, and love are intertwined.  (If it doesn't, that's fine.  I'll enjoy it for you.)

                                              The First Snowfall by James Russell Lowell

                            The snow had begun in the gloaming,
                                 And busily all the night
                            Had been heaping field and highway
                                 With a silence deep and white.

                            Every pine and fir and hemlock
                                 Wore ermine too dear for an earl,
                            And the poorest twig on the elm tree
                                 Was ridged inch deep with pearl.

                             From sheds new-roofed with Carrara
                                  Came Chanticleer's muffled crow,
                             The stiff rails softened to swan's-down,
                                  And still fluttered down the snow.

                             I stood and watched by the window
                                  The noiseless work of the sky,
                             And the sudden flurries of snowbirds,
                                   Like brown leaves whirling by.

                             I thought of a mound in sweet Auburn
                                  Where a little headstone stood;
                             How the flakes were folding it gently,
                                   As did robins the babes in the wood.

                             Up spoke our own little Mabel,
                                   Saying, "Father, who makes it snow?"
                             And I told of the good All-Father
                                    Who cares for us here below.

                             Again I looked at the snowfall,
                                    And thought of the leaden sky
                             That arched o'er our first great sorrow,
                                    When that mound was heaped so high.

                              I remember the gradual patience
                                    That fell from that cloud like snow,
                              Flake by flake, healing and hiding
                                    The scar that renewed our woe.

                              And again to the child I whispered,
                                    "The snow that husheth all,
                              Darling, the merciful Father
                                    Alone can make it fall!"

                              Then, with eyes that saw not, I kissed her
                                     And she, kissing back, could not know
                               That my kiss was given to her sister,
                                      Folded deep under deepening snow.

Backroads of Morrow County: Indigestion January 3, 2012

Political correctness invades fast food: I ate at a fast food place yesterday (sorry about that) and on one wall they had a HUGE flat screen with CNN and on the other wall they had a HUGE flat screen with Fox News. Hard on the digestion.

Walking Iten's Acres: A Snow Walk January 2, 2012



Thursday, May 23, 2013

Walking Iten's Acres: Daffodilese December 31, 2011

Does anyone out there speak daffodilese? I have more and more of them coming up. It's time for some snow and some cold! They should "hear" that message. Oh, and it should be in that order. Nice snow carpet. Then, some cold.

The History of Iten's Acres: Walking through Woods December 27, 2011

Walking through Woods

     I don't know what is the official definition of "woods."  I mean, I know it's a place with trees, but is there a numerical standard?  How many trees does it take to make a "woods"?  I hope I have enough.  But it would be a close call probably.  You can take the path through the middle of my woods out to the back meadow in about thirty seconds--if you walk slowly.  Now, to walk it from one side to the other takes longer.  It does stretch the entire width of my Acres.  And yes, I do have a path for taking that trek.  In fact, I have another path through the trees--uh, I mean the woods--from the house to the meadow that is more of a winding longer trail.  And, of course, my woods connect with the woods on Dennis' acres.  The deer often come across 25, slip up through Dennis' woods, cut through mine, and then meander on down to Aaron's pine trees--especially in the winter.  They love those pine trees.  Protects them from the weather some I reckon.  Oops--I mean, protects them from the weather some I "guess."  Sorry, didn't mean to slip into Southern lingo there.
     The great thing about the woods is that it gives me another "eco-system" for planting--experimenting--with flowers, trees, and shrubs.  It's full shade heaven in the woods themselves.  It's partial shade to full shade along the edges.  To be honest, I haven't had a great deal of success in the woods, but the edges are doing well.  I would someday like to build an old country wall between the woods and the edges on the house side.  Not just so I can quote "Mending Wall,"  my neighbors would be totally unaffected by such a wall anyway--but so that I can define the edges into easier to maintain garden plots.  Keep the woods at bay a little bit.  I'd also like to add a little definition to an area just on the meadow side of the woods, right to the left of the center path.  I've tucked a rhododendron, red twig dogwood, bleeding heart, and some daffodils in , there.  Such miracle constructions are a long way off, but while I'm prophesying, I'd like to make the paths in the woods more substantive as well.  Cobblestones of some sort maybe?  Any suggestions are welcome.
      On the edges of the woods that face the house there are a great number and variety of flowers and shrubs.  There is a bigger "edge" directly behind the house than on the other side of the path on the house side.  There's also a large wooden shed right behind the house on this edge.  In fact, the winding path through the woods begins right behind this shed.  A secret path.  =)  Anyway, right behind the house on the edge of the woods are three forsythia, a rose of Sharon, a redbud, and a bleeding heart.  All of these bloom each year, except for one of the forsythia.  Flowers that I've planted here are a lot (tip: "a lot" means at least a dozen) of crocus, daffodils, lilies, hosta, tulips, Dutch iris, grape hyacinth, rosy Alpine bells, and stardrift.  Sprinkled among these beauties are a few phlox, iris, astilbe, huechera, aconite, Lenten roses, anemones, wood hyacinth, bluebells, coral bells, fern, corydalis, balloon flowers, and sedum.  Lots of sprinkling!  Bring your flower umbrella!  It's quite an extensive garden.  I do have a problem here with squirrels taking some of the bulbs despite the fact that there are two huge walnut trees over here, and the ground is littered with nuts.  Did I happen to mention in this "history" that I hate squirrels and walnut trees?  I thought so.  I hate squirrels and walnut trees.  Anyway, this is a beautiful spot from early spring to frost, though I am in constant warfare with the encroaching woods.  And the squirrels.
     The other edge of the house side is not nearly as wide.  It has "lots" of crocus, a redbud, bleeding heart,  and two forsythia that bloom each spring, the Acres' only mountain laurel, and a "sprinkling" of daffodils, dwarf iris, tulips, lilies, hosta, fern, and fall crocus.  Most of this area is full shade though one small area has some sun.  There's an encroachment battle over here as well.  That's why that idea of a wall keeps ricocheting around my empty brain.
     The other "edge" of the woods--the meadow side--is mostly flowering trees and shrubs that have not yet fulfilled their purpose.  They are growing nicely, just not blooming.  A rose of Sharon and a magnolia bloom every year, but not any of the other stuff:  two redbud, another magnolia, a crab apple, a hawthorn, four dogwoods--one pink, and two blue spruce.  Of course, the spruce won't bloom.  Now, there are a couple dozen daffodils over here that bloom each spring and a patch of black-eyed Susan that bloom in the summer.  (God planted those.  I can't take credit.)  The rhododendron that I already mentioned was about to bloom this last spring, but one of the deer traipsing through my woods stopped to munch.  Ugh.  At least it's still alive so there's hope.  There are some aconite, hosta, lilies, and iris over here, but they don't bloom much.  This edge does get a little sun, but just a very little.  That's undoubtedly the problem, but I'll keep hoping.  The things that have bloomed keep my hopes alive.
  As mentioned, I have not had much success in the forest. (Whoa, in just a few paragraphs it's grown from a maybe woods to a forest!  Ah, the power of the pen!)  God has a nice bouquet of May apples in here and a large swath of Dutchman's breeches, and numerous violets.  And He has some trillium in here that have not yet bloomed.  I'm sure they will one of these springs.  I have tried all sorts of flowers and shrubs in here and failed.  All flora that were supposed to be full shade lovers, woodsy plants.  But. . .  I do have some daffodils and crocus that bloom in here before the trees get their leaves.  And some fall crocus after the leaves have fallen.  And there are a couple Lenten roses and ferns that I've put in here still alive.  But not nearly the number I've planted in here.  Any suggestions for things to try would be welcome.  There may be a bunch of Arbor Day saplings in here.  When I first moved here, I planted a bunch of them in here, but I have no idea how they're doing.  I didn't think to mark where I put them.  Brilliant, eh?  I have stumbled on a redbud and dogwood that are growing in here, but the others, who knows?  Maybe twenty years from now who ever owns Iten's Acres after me will wake up some spring morning and go, "Wow, honey, come look at this.  It's a miracle.  The woods are all abloom."  I don't think I qualify as a miracle producer, but it's fun to imagine such a moment sometime in the future.  My gardening angels and I can give each others high fives in heaven.  Can you give a high five to someone with wings?
     Anyway, you can come and hike the woods with me anytime--edges and all--without the slightest chance of getting lost or without the slightest chance of not encountering some beauty.  Come in the winter, and we can quote "Stopping by the woods on a snowy evening," and we won't even have "miles to go before we sleep."  It's just a couple steps to the back door.

The History of Iten's Acres: Space, the Flower Frontier December 16, 2011

     When I first arrived at Iten's Acres, there was a large open space to the right of the house practically devoid of any plants save grass and a walnut tree.  For some reason my predecessor had planted a clump of blackberry bushes--four or five--right behind the privacy fence at the edge of the parking area.  Why he put them there or why he planted so many I do not know.  But by the time I became "park ranger," they were huge--white blossoms in the spring, lots of berries by mid-summer.  I have been surprised by the apparent lack of interest in the fruit by the birds and wildlife, but the only creature that snacks on them is a chubby old bald thing.  Well, some visiting dignitaries once made a pan of blackberry cobbler.  But other than that . . .  There were, also, two metal sheds on this side of the house, a pair of horseshoe pits, the frame of a doghouse, and a line of trees--mostly walnut--between my property and my neighbor's.   I don't know why my predecessor left only the frame of a doghouse--he took the large "cage" that was there and the outside of the doghouse.  I don't know if the line of walnut trees is on my property or Aaron's, but I do know that if I ever get my hands on a chainsaw, they may just "disappear."  Aaron may come home some day and find himself the victim of deforestation.  Hope he doesn't mind.  In my happy dreams I can see the walnut trees going up in smoke in someone's wood burning stove.
     As you may have guessed by now, the area around the house is the exact counterpoint to the front of the Acres.  Up there, most of my property is to the left of the driveway.  Back here at the homestead, after the driveway has wound its way around the ancient maple and the pond, most of the space is to the right of the driveway/parking area.  Naturally, all that space needed some decorating.  And over time, a plan was instigated, acted upon in stages, and some beautiful "stars" have been planted in this space.
     Step one was the obvious one.  I mean, what would any sane gardener do with horseshoe pits other than turn them into flower beds?  Duh.  One of the pits is now a bed of shade flowers.  One of the pits is now a bed of shade and sun flowers.  In fact, this second bed was doubled in size this autumn.  The stars of the shade garden are a Lenten rose, a yellow corydalis, a lily, some phlox, crocus, and hyacinth.  The stars of the "dappled" bed are a meadow sweet, creeping phlox, lilies, daffodils, crocus, and glory of the snow.  Neither bed has ever complained about the change in its job description.  Just thought I would throw that in there.
     Step two was just as obvious--at least to this old man.  Do something about the doghouse area.  It's quite huge--forty feet long by eight to ten feet deep.  It's shady in the morning but gets some sun in the afternoon.  In other words, I can plant whatever I want in there, anything goes--or should I say anything grows.  A flower lovers dream.  In the spring the stars of this area are wild phlox, anemones, snowdrops, white iris, daffodils, tulips, and pink columbine.  All of these are not only gorgeous but aggressive "spreaders."  In summer the stars of this area are phlox and oriental lilies--most of them orange tiger lilies.  Both of these flowers grow eight feet tall or higher, bloom prolifically, and like their spring "pals," spread magnificently.  And the phlox as they spread, change color!  In addition, a variety of morning glories come up each summer from seed and wind their way up the phlox and lilies to add to the bouquet of flowers.  By August this area is stunning.  (There are other flowers in here, but these mentioned are the stars.)  Every year because of the madcap spreading of all the varieties the "pattern" in this bed is constantly changing.  The wildness of it adds to its appeal.  Someday I will remove the old doghouse frame and allow them to race to fill in the new open area.
     Step three involved the metal shed that is too readily visible as one walks toward the back/front of the house.  The plan was to try to make it disappear--as much of it as possible--by putting a garden in front of the visible area.  This, of course, required an emphasis on taller, wider, plants.  The solution was a forsythia, a redtwig dogwood, lots of phlox, and some day lilies.  These are the major beauties here and do quite well in "hiding" the shed from spring to frost.  I love it when a plant comes together.
     Step four was to put a huge--16 by 16--lily bed right in the middle of the area.  It has other things in it as well--iris (duh), a lilac, phlox, daffodils, giant sunflowers, and moon flowers to name a few.  But the lilies are the stars.  There are, at least, forty different lilies in this bed and each year they spread out to claim more territory.  At times in mid-June there are 150 blooms in this bed each day.  Marvelous to see!  I always put a number of gladiolas in here as well; they can tower as high as the lilies.  And morning glories and larkspur come back each year from seed to add to the color scheme.  I'm going to have to add some cosmos in here as well.  They'll come back each year, too.  And they last until frost.  This bed will become the eighth wonder of the world--or at least, of Iten's Acres.
     Step five--hey, there's lots of space--was to put in what I call the Conifer Garden, next to the doghouse zone.  It has some non-conifers in it, but it started out all conifers until I made it into an actual bed.  By mid-summer it is quite shady most of the day.  What's in here?  Glad you asked.  Taxus, red and yellow barberry, false cypress, two elderberries, a Lenten rose, a few hosta, an iris, and some lilies are the main ingredients.  There is one "special" bouquet here--toad lilies.  They are strange but lovely little flowers that love the shade and bloom late in the year.  I have a couple elsewhere, but in this bed they thrive!   (Tip:  elderberries do not last long once they ripen.  They must be the filet mignon of the bird world.  They are an exceedingly sweet berry--when I've been quick enough to get a bite or two.  Maybe they're the milky way of the bird world?)  Adding to the picturesque quality of this garden is a bird bath.  It's lovely on summer afternoons to see a flock of goldfinch in full bloom flitting about the foliage here and gathering around the rim of the bird bath to drink.  And to munch on elderberries too, no doubt.
     This fall I did two last things to this space.  (Well, not "last," but last so far.)  First, I cut down the walnut tree!  "To everything there is a season. . .A time to dance!"  I hate those trees!  The other "last" thing was to turn an old dilapidated fire pit into an iris bed.  It's quite small but deep with the iris sitting on top of the soil.  I'll be anxious to see if the experiment works.  If it does, you'll probably see some more "pot bunkers" of various flowers popping up all over the Acres.
     Ahhhh, I love large open spaces.  Yep, I love being spacey.   The more space, the more places to plant a variety of stars.

Backroads of Morrow County: A Malady December 13, 2011

I have this malady. I think I caught it from Brad and Ben. Reverse DNA. Not sure what it's called? Maybe that thing that killed the proverbial cat. It all started when the three of us lived in Traveler's Rest, South Carolina. We'd drive by this country road and one of the boys would say, "I wonder where that goes?" And away we would go. The road would usually end up in one of my favorite places: Nowhere In Particular, S.C. Then we would turn around and drive back because everyone who has this malady knows that a country road looks totally different coming from the other direction. When we came back to Ohio I went into regression. Who cares where a city road goes? But now that I'm a country boy again, the malady has returned. I'm telling you this so in case I disappear one of these days, you won't need to look for me. I'll just be in Nowhere In Particular, Ohio. Probably found a diner that serves Pepsi.

Walking Iten's Acres: The Joy of Being in the Dark December 12, 2011

The Joy of Being in the Dark

     The moon was huge tonight!  Gorgeous!  The sky was cloudless, clear.  I could not resist walking Iten's Acres in the dark.  One precaution must be taken.  I must recruit Bonnie and/or Gus to join me.  Their presence will protect me from strange encounters with the beasts of the field.  And their presence will keep me from unexpected encounters with the two of them.  Many a time as I walked at night on the Acres, awestruck, gaping at the stars, a furry body suddenly brushing up against me in the dark has shortened my lifespan.  If I take at least one of them with me at the outset of the journey, fewer surprises interrupt my walking and only the night sky takes my breath away.
     Tonight was a marvelous stroll.   I started at the front of my property after I had deposited tomorrow's trash pick-up. Without moving, I go from the mundane of the ordinary chore to the magnificence of time alone. On a night like tonight the water in the swamp across the road is like another sky.  As the light breeze passes over the pool, it reflects a shimmering expanse of stars intersected by a yellow brick road of moonlight.  The trees at the far end of the field seem shadowy, eerie, yet beautiful.  I imagine a herd of deer watching me, not sure if I'm substance or shadow.  When I move, they know.  But I would be too distant to cause them to fear.  They often feed over there in the twilight.  Calm in the open because of the nearest of the trees.  At the first sign of danger, they would disappear into the woods with that majestic spring in their leap.
     Gus joins me here.  I see him coming from the Christmas lights on my neighbor's home.  They do not mar the darkness.  His house looks quite elegant.  All the lights are white--like the stars in the sky, only near.  I listen for the angels' song.  I love the simplicity of the decoration.  As I walk the front of the Acres pause must be taken at times to pet my friend who ricochets from place to place enamored not by the loveliness of the starry sky but by whatever movement or scent arouses his curiosity.  The sky is a black cloth, glittering with a million diamonds.  Even this late, Venus claims her superiority to the starry host.
     The ancient maple and the Old Sentinel are majestic even in the dark.  Their outline, their shape solidifies as the eyes adjust.  In the winter there are no leaves to hide the stars.  The pond imitates the swamp in its mirroring of the sky.  A plane blinks its way across the first heaven.  I wonder where it's headed.  Do the people at the window sense that they are being watched, that a lone figure in the night is questioning the direction of their lives--a lone figure who may as well be as far away from them as the stars they see above them?   The bench and lamp post by the pond and the shape of my house look as if they belong in some Shadowland fantasy.
     The wafer moon seems to shrink as the night ages, turning from yellow to white.  It moves almost imperceptibly across the sky.  I slip through the trees behind the house and walk out into the meadow and over to the top of the hill.  I could stand here forever.  Gus is puzzled by the lack of movement, succumbs to his energy, and scampers off into the wild area.  The stars appear to be even more numerous out here; there's more sky to see.  Windows in the distant indicate the homes of my country neighbors, warm, and full of life.  The occupants are unaware of the brilliance of the night that encloses their man-made caves.  Immersed in loveliness, yet they sit unaware of the glory all around them, untouched by the Creator's handiwork.
     I sit awhile in the chair at the top of the hill, trying to grow as silent as the darkness.  A little chilled, but unable to let go of the sight of a universe of stars.  So vast!  So incalculable in number!  "The heavens declare the glory of God."  They speak of His divine power and infinite qualities.   He who spoke them into existence in a moment of the time that He created knows them all by name.  And miracle of miracles, here I sit in a near infinite universe, a lump of clay filled with the breath of life, gazing at His majesty, and He knows me by name.  Me!  He eyes are on me, His Al, basking in the beauty of the night, in the beauty of the darkness illuminated by pinpoints of blazing fire.
     A cold nose on my hand breaks my reverie.  Gus is anxious for attention and activity.  I oblige.  As I turn to head for home, the lights in the windows of my house beckon me.  Somewhat reluctantly, I follow the beacon out of the darkness, through the paths in the trees, home.
     I have loved my time being in the dark.

Walking Iten's Acres: RVW December 12, 2011


The History of Iten's Acres: Circling the House II December 11, 2011

Circling the House II

     To the left of the house, just a little to the left, is another "enhanced" area--if flowers and flowering shrubs are part of your definition of "enhance."  I call this the Canopy area because it's shaded by a few trees of various sizes.  The trees were here when I arrived; well, most of them anyway.  I did put a redbud in there that's doing quite well.  I expect it to bloom one of these springs soon.  2012 anyone?  I hope so.  I added it because last winter I cut down a large vine in here that was strangling a dogwood.  In fact, the top of the tree was already dead.  A storm this summer blew down the top.  Fortunately, the dogwood has sent up a number of shoots from the bottom, and they are starting to thrive.  I've even moved some of its saplings to other places on the Acres.  And they transplant quite well!  Anyway, the removal of the vine allowed more sun into the area, and I want to keep it shaded; hence the redbud.  I have a number of redbuds that I planted all at the same time in various places.  I'm fascinated at the difference between how quickly some of them grow and how slowly others of them grow.  It's amazing how where you are planted influences how quickly you grow and flourish.
     There is a small bed at the edge of the canopy.  Quite primitive in structure; it's made from cement blocks.  I call this bed The Lenten Rose Bed.  It has five of them in there.  They are the stars!  Lenten Roses are amazing.  They thrive in the shade.  They are green year around.  They grow remarkably tall.  They bloom earlier than anything--late February or early March--except maybe the pussy willow by the pond.  And they keep their blooms for most of the summer.  Gorgeous things!  And like other stars they need a supporting cast.  In this bed that includes tulips, white grape hyacinth, allium, and a mystery plant that is huge each spring but has never bloomed.  I wish I could find my old records to "discover" what it is and understand why it hasn't bloomed.  I have another one in another bed that is sunny.  Same result.  Tall, luscious, bloomless every year.  Even the resident expert--Mom--doesn't know what it is.  That's a semi-miracle!  Perhaps by time I'm 98 it will bloom, and I'll be able to tell you what it is.  Until then, the mystery remains.  Where's Sherlock when you need him?
      Once upon a time this bed was the source of forget-me-nots that I spread all over the property.  Beautiful little blue flowers that you would never be able to forget once you saw them.  And do they love to spread themselves.  Well, they used to love to spread themselves.  This spring--nothing.  (Okay, there are a few in the Blue Bed and the Spring Bed.)  But I had those lovely little flowers all over my property, and this spring they decided as a group to not show up--to forget that I was counting on them to add some beauty to the Acres.  I miss them.  I remember them.  They are all but gone.  Sigh.  I have no idea what happened to them.  Of course, they are on my shopping list for next spring when I wander out to Baker's Acres--the nursery that has every flower known to man and myriads that they've "invented" themselves.
      The stars of the actual canopy area are the bleeding hearts.  I have loved bleeding hearts since I was a small tyke in Wellston, Missouri.  There are four large red ones, three large white ones, a dwarf red one, and a dwarf white one all under the canopy.  Marvelous!  And their wild cousins are here too--Dutchman's Breeches by the score!  Combined with the two gigantic ones in the rock garden by the house which is right across from the canopy, this is the land of the bleeding hearts--and no one has shed a tear.  (Except for the missing forget-me-nots, of course.)  The supporting cast for these stars?  Aconite, tulips, lily-of-the-valley, grape hyacinth, crocus, daffodils, a zillion yellow corydalis, bluebells, lilies, hosta, dwarf iris, fall crocus, hardy cyclamen, and a lovely Japanese fern.  And this is the area where I have wild yellow violets!  And--we're not done yet--in front of this area are three container gardens:  impatiens, snapdragons, alyssum, marigolds, morning glory, begonia, coleus, dianthus, petunia, bright eyes.  Since this area gets a dab of morning sun yet is still shaded for much of the day, a variety of annuals thrive here.  Who doesn't love variety? 
     Abutting the Canopy is the beginnings of an azalea hedge that runs all the way to a magnificent white pine near the back of the house.  I say "beginning" because only one has bloomed so far--an alluring lilac-purple.  Like the hibiscus I thought azaleas grew and flourished only in the South.  Wrong.  Eventually--in my life or in the life of those who come after me--the lilac will be joined by a couple different reds and a goldish yellow.  Should be stunning in about five or ten years.  "Sprinkled" amongst the hedge (I love sprinkling flowers.) are three hydrangea, a peony, a bouquet of daffodils, two bouquets of phlox, and a small pink dogwood.  The latter would be larger and blooming by now if some careless COBG hadn't lawnmowered it a couple years ago.  Ugh.  Oh, and there are several daffodils and crocus under the white pine.
     I think I'm going to put a bench over here for idling in the shade on those hot August days.  The shade is a lovely place to spend an afternoon loafing thinking of all the things you should be doing but have no intention of doing now and have no intention of even feeling guilty about not doing them.  Drop by some hot August day and see what I mean.  I'll scoot over.  If you sit here quietly.  Only the birds are allowed to sing. 

The History of Iten's Acres: Circling the House I December 3, 2011

 Circling the House I

     When I acquired Iten's Acres, there was some beauty already up near the house.  It actually was rather picturesque to drive up the driveway toward the abode.  You would swing around the ancient maple, and there, right in front of you, up a small hill, was the home.  Not postcardish, but picturesque--especially after I removed the ugly old shed/garage in front of the place.  There are several trees at the end of the driveway, a couple of hickory trees just to your right (buffet in the winter for squirrels, wild turkeys, and deer).  If you arrive in spring--I didn't; I came in August--there is a beautiful red crab apple to the left of the house situated at the front of an old rock garden.  Behind the crab apple in the rock garden, you would find two huge bleeding hearts.  When I arrived in August, the rock garden had a plethora of beautiful ferns, a few gigantic hosta, and some pink ladies.
     There is also a lovely pine tree right behind the rock garden.  And there is a rose bush in front of the house and one in back.  Unfortunately, the roses have only bloomed once in my six years here--dark reds.  On the other side of the house is a small privacy fence with a collection of large blackberry bushes--three or four--close by.  Can anybody say "cobbler"?  (The only thing directly behind the house is a cowbell on the patio.  I always know when my granddaughter Evie has arrived by the clanging of the bell.  I haven't been able to find any more cowbell seeds though.)
     Having taken ownership in August, I had no idea how stunning the crab apple was, and I had no idea the bleeding hearts even existed.  And I also did not know the mystery of the pink ladies.  You can't imagine how thrilled I was to see the bleeding hearts come up my first spring.  They are enormous and lush!  The mystery of the pink ladies?  (They look like dainty pink day lilies--but that's not the mystery.)  The mystery is that their foliage comes up in the spring--a gorgeous green.  Then, the foliage dies away.  And in late July or early August, presto! the flowers come up and bloom.  Not knowing the mystery that first spring, you can imagine my consternation when the foliage started to die.  I watered and watered and watered, and they still "died."  I in my ignorance was heartbroken.  And then in August as I was circling the house, pink beauties everywhere!  Amazing!  If only all mysteries could end so majestically.  From "death" came glorious beauty--sounds theological, eh?
     Naturally, having a serious case of floral discontent, I have added to the beauty around the house.  One of the first things I tried was to put a large container garden right in front of the rock garden.  I, also, planted a couple forsythia that I had brought up from Mom's.  The forsythia are doing wonderfully; the container garden has been moved to the front patio.  In its place is a real garden.  I call it the Rainbow Garden.  Why?  When I decided to transform it, I gave all the flowers to an artist friend of mine and asked her to arrange the colors for me into a "rainbow."  Wow!  Did she ever!  The focus of the bed are, of course, iris.  whites, lilacs, peach, tangerine, blue, purple, yellow, ocher, pink, red, striped.  It is a marvelous panorama of colors--a rainbow.  But the iris are not all!  In the middle of the bed and rapidly spreading everywhere are blue balloon flowers.  They are, in a sense, an accidental bonus.  When I was moving the container garden, the pot that had the balloon flower in it wouldn't budge when I tried to pick it up.  Here, the roots of the plant had gone through the bottom of the planter and settled in.  I surrendered to its "wishes" and left it there.  I had no idea what a spreader it was.  Six years ago--one blue balloon flower.  Last summer--at least fifty blooms a day for weeks, and it's still spreading.  (And every year I dig up a few and move them elsewhere.)
    But that's not all!  Also in this rainbow are a number of lilies, triteleia, star of David, tulips, bee balm, hollyhock, two large clumps of sunflowers, phlox, gladiola, a giant coneflower, larkspur, cosmos,and morning glory from seed, and this year, God threw in some smooth ruella--a beautiful blue trumpet-like wild flower.  I guess He thought I needed a little more blue in the back corner.  No complaints, trust me!  And this is the bed that Mom can see from her observation post in her bedroom.  She gets to enjoy it from mid-March to frost, from yellow forsythia and purple crocus to the red hollyhocks of September.  No, it's not a coincidence that the beauty of that bed is by Mom's window seat.
     (A tip:  Don't pull things up if you're not sure what they are.  I was tempted this spring to pull up the ruella and the coneflower because I thought they might be weeds.  I waited--thankfully.  Just in case they weren't weeds.  Patience is a good thing, you know.  It's amazing how God can turn "weeds" into gorgeous flowers if you just keep your hands off and let Him work.)
     As mentioned before, I think, I have a few container gardens around the house.  There is a small one in the parking area, one by the fence, two on the front patio, and one on the back patio.  Every year I put calla lilies in the one in the parking area; it on its own brings back every year some morning glories and love-in-the-midst from seed.  The bed by the fence has some morning glory for climbing the structure and some bright eyes and marigold.  The two on the front patio are in the sun so I fill them with the appropriate annuals:  marigold, snapdragon, petunia, dahlia, bright eyes, dianthus, salvia, floss flowers, lantana, geranium, garzania.  (Yep, there are lots of pots.)  The back container garden is in the shade so I fill them with the appropriate annuals:  impatiens, allysum. lobelia, coleus.  They all do well.  Since they're close to the house, it takes a good frost to end their blooming.  From mid-May I can take Mom out on either patio, and she has lots of "bouquets" to enjoy.
     In addition, I planted a rhododendron near the back of the house on one side and a rose of Sharon on the other side.  The rhododendron is lovely; the rose of Sharon has not yet bloomed.  I also added some grape hyacinth, snowdrops, cyclamen, and lily-of-the valley under the pine tree.  Also, on each side of the pine are a number of phlox, and at the back of the rock garden I snuck in a hydrangea.  On the other side of the house, is a snowball bush that has not bloomed yet.  Along the back of the house is a row of lilies--white, purple, red.  Someday, I may put gutters on the house.  Out here in the country I don't really need them, but if I put them up, I can put a couple of long flower beds on both sides of the house--one in the sun, one in the shade.  My imagination is running wild as I type.
     So, that's the area right next to the homestead.  I'll give you the history of the other areas circling the house at a later date.  But you can visit anytime and just sit with Mom on the patio awhile and enjoy the loveliness that is right at "your fingertips."  You don't have to walk far--or walk at all--on Iten's Acres to enjoy its beauty.