Tampa Trip

Just a week ago I was eating dinner in Ybor City (first picture). Today I shoveled snow. I had such a good time in Tampa. I'm posting some pictures but since I can't seem to format text and pictures in Blogger, you may have to guess on some. (I think I may make this several posts.)

I drove to Indy and left my car at my niece's house where my brother was watching his granddaughter for the weekend, so the next pictures are of Aimee holding Sophia and John with Sophia.

Packing Light

I pulled my summer clothes from the hinterlands of my closet and packed them in an undersized carry-on bag with room leftover. No need to pack long underwear, multiple layers, wool socks, bulky jackets, fleece hats, gloves, boots and all that other winter gear. The low in Florida is 15 degrees higher than the high in Indiana...and we are having a heat wave in Indiana.

All that's left to do is to print my boarding pass, pack up my toiletries in the morning and drive 3 hours to the airport. Oh, and shave my legs. I'm not so diligent in the winter when my legs don't see the light of day.

I'm leaving my car at my niece's house, which is convenient but also an excuse to visit my newest (until Jennifer's baby in April) great-niece, Sofia, born in October.

Then it's off to Florida to spend Friday evening through Monday morning with my girlfriend. Her husband is out of town, so we plan on talking, walking the beach, talking, talking some more. I'm not sure what Judy has planned, but there will be no hectic schedule.

Come summer, we'll be on the river

Here's our river boat and look closely at the seond picture for a typical river sight. Yes, the boat is one of a kind and people do stop on the iron bridge to stare when we come round the river bend.

My Office in Winter

Here's my office in December. The Garden Shed is one of the original structures.

Morning Madness

Whew! The boys finally left. Late night call telling us Ricky needs to bring his show choir outfit (do boys have outfits? Ok, costume or perhaps tux) to school today. He couldn't find it this morning. He couldn't even find his travel bag. "They are at school," he insisted, but still tore apart his closet trying to find it, so he wasn't too confident about this assertion. He finds two black shoes, both right feet. Finally, he finds a left shoe under his bed and one dress sock. I find the other dress sock in my Single Sock Basket in the laundry room.

Ron asks for money for his lunch account and I write the check, totally forgetting that we told him no more lunch money. A few weeks ago, school called to inform us the boys were spending $10 to $15 a day for lunch, probably treating others at their table. They sent us a print-out of what they bought everyday; a typical day included 4 slices of pizzas, 2 large salads, 2 cans of pop (yes, I'm a Midwesterner.), 2 large cookies, and nachos and cheese or perhaps 2 lunches plus the other junk. So when Steve asked him for the check, an uproar from both boys insisting they did not abuse their lunch money. We gave Ron $5 and he decided to pack his lunch. Two ham sandwiches and an apple are sitting on the table.

I totally expect several calls from them this morning asking that I run things to school, despite the fact that my day is already full.

In the middle of this, I plucked the confirmation for my weekend jaunt to Florida off the fridge and transported myself south. Just three more days until my break! Poor hubby.

One Dog Night

Sam, our yellow lab, our watchdog, our constant companion, our big gelunk of canine, was put on medicine this week for low thyroid. Part of the symptoms are weight gain and excessive hair loss. He's already looking thinner, and after I swept this morning, I'm hoping that is the last time I sweep up bushels of hair.

At the vet, Sam weighed 98 pounds. Ricky weighs 118 pounds. As we headed to bed last night, we couldn't find the dog. We checked every room in the house and he was missing. We checked the boys' rooms again and Ricky's lump of blankets looked odd. Steve went over and patted the lump and sensed a tail wagging under the blankets. Rick wrapped the dog in blankets with only his nose showing and the dog was laying on top of Rick. We unwrapped the dog and got him off the bed...and Ricky never woke up.

First Snow of 2006

When I went to bed last night, 2 inches of snow covered the ground and it accumulated to 4 inches this morning. Because of the rain, then the snow and then the freezing weather, roads are slippery and school is delayed for two hours. I'm letting the boys sleep in for one hour and then they can use the other "extra" hour to study for their final exams today. But right now the house is quiet.

I'm meeting the other gardener at the Gene Stratton-Porter (she hyphenated her name on her marriage certificate about 100 years ago) historic site to decide what plants and seeds we order for the garden this year. There are only a few things I'd rather do on a snowy day (that don't involve my husband.) I did a master plan and am overwhelmed by the amount of work needed. I'm definitely creating a volunteer program. We need some specialized expertise in the garden -- for the roses, the water feature, the wisteria, and even design. I'm still struggling with how to balance the formal layout of the garden with the numerous beds. How should I plant it so that the overall design is discernible, but let each bed stand by itself? How should I plant it to draw visitors into the garden (they tend to stay in the arbor) with a sense of mystery and discovery? How do I keep it historically accurate, but still use today's improved cultivars?

First Flower of 2006

Poor pathetic thing. It looked so bright and cheerful in the back lawn, but it really is kind of scraggly.

The Fours

Hey, I've done the Thursday Three on occasion, but I've been tagged by Jordana for the Fours. I couldn't respond to two questions, because I'm truly not interested in popular culture. It is difficult to say you don't watch TV without sounding superior. I'm not superior, just different because I've learned to make choices best for me.

Four Jobs I've Had:

1. Historic Garden Director (This is not my official job title, but it is the title my boss uses for me. I started last fall and I love it.)
2. Marketing Director
3. Reinsurance Account Executive
4. Product Manager
And in 1995 I started my most important and hardest job - Mom.

Four Movies I Watch Over and Over Again:

We tried to remember the other night the last time I watched a movie! I was a movie freak in my younger days but am just not tempted now. Even when we rent a movie, I'll curl up with a good book (or go online.)

Four Places I've Lived:

This is so boring: Indiana, Indiana, Indiana and Indiana...and in only two counties! When I was young, I thought I would move around the states and the world, but that didn't happen. And I take it back, it's not boring. I love my life here.

Four T.V. Shows I Watch:

1. Antiques Road Show every other month or so
See response to movies. I'd rather read. So I'm changing this question to Four Books I Read Over and Over Again. Hey it's my blog and I can do what I want!
1. Anything by Nelson DeMille
2. Country Year by Sue Hubbell
3. Giants in the Earth by Rolvaag
4. Bible

Four Places I've Been on Vacation:

1. My parents' house in Arkansas was our vacation destination for 20 years
2. Oregon (I love it)
3. At least twice a year, we go to Lake Superior.
4. I took a three week train trip across the northern plains, down the Pacific coast and home through the central plains, stopping in Montana, Seattle, Portland, San Francisco, San Bernadino, Needles, and Denver to visit family and friend.

And best of all, in two weeks I'll be in Tampa Bay visiting my girlfriend over a long weekend.

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. Chris at The Big Yellow House
2. Jordana at Curmudgeonry
3. Elizabeth at Motherhood is not for Wimps
4. Waiter Rant
And because I have seven unused answers from popular culture (movies and TV):
5. The Food Whore
6. Tales From my Tiny Kingdom
7. Lucy's Island
8. Althouse
9. The Other Side of the Ocean
10. Seraphic Secrets
11. Instapundit

Four Favorite Foods:

1. Homemade Bread
2. Mom's Chicken Salad
3. Fruit
4. Coffee
(I could have used my 7 extra answers here also!)

Four Places I'd Like to Be Right Now:

1. Cross-country skiing
2. Touring some great gardens in the world
3. Scotland (I like that answer, Jordana)
4. I'm pretty comfy right where I am.

Four Bloggers I'm Tagging:

1. Lucy
2. Mom to the Screaming Masses (and I read this one daily also)
3. Full Fathom Five (and this one too)
4. Anyone who wants to join in

In the Woods

I took Jordana's suggestion to my last post and went outside this afternoon. I spent several hours making a dent in the garlic mustard. I've heard if you pull every last plant out by its roots, it will only take seven years to rid a woods of garlic mustard. I posted six times in 2004 about garlic mustard and 3 times in 2005. Does that mean I can only post 1.5 times in 2006? If so, this is my half post.

Clouds

During the last twelve hours, my computer malfunctioned, I had emergency root canal, and the school put us on alert for the boys' grades. I'd go back to bed if the sun wasn't shining for the first time in weeks.

Dinner, y'all?

Or would they call it supper in the South?

There is not an ounce of southern blood in me, in my husband or even in my adopted boys. We live at 41 degrees and 14 minutes. My mother was born and raised at 41 degrees 19 minutes. Dad was born at 43 degrees 13 minutes and raised just north of the 40th parallel. Steve's parents were born and raised at 41 degrees.

But we enjoyed this dinner last night: BBQ country-style ribs, spoon bread, and spinach (greens).

Tried and True

Last week hubby asked me if I wanted to ride to Grabill to buy some corn for our corn burner. (I love the corn burner. Check out how beautiful the fire is in the photo and, according to the propane delivery guy, we are using 1/3 of the the gas.) The feedmill is not my idea of a hot date, but spending time with my hubby is always enjoyable. After picking up a half ton of corn, in 50# bags, to my shock and delight he suggested we go through the antique mall.

Now I'm a kitchen gadget addict. These gadgets lure me with promises of quick, easy or pretty food, and then languish in my drawer. Declutter my closets? No problem. Clean out the garage? Take it away. Touch my kitchen drawers? Over my dead body.

So it wasn't surprising that I spent time looking at the antique kitchen gadgets. I was just appalled, though, to find them selling as antiques kitchen tools I'm still using, specifically my flour sifter that I use to sift powdered sugar and my potato masher that I prefer to anything electronic because it leaves nice little lumps and the skins don't get caught up in blades.

There are, however, newer gadgets in my drawers waiting for their glory days when it is the only thing that will work, such as the crinkled carrot cutter, the baked apple dishes, the donut cutter complete with hole, and the little round sandwich crimper from Pampered Chef. I think I've used each one only once.

The microplaner, though, is a new gadget that I adore. It adds zest and spice to my life.

Annoying and Anonymous

Notice to those readers who love Faulkner and may have been annoyed by my post about As I Lay Dying, I did not mean to annoy you and please do not sue me. I feel this is protected speech under the First Amendment, even though Earth Girl is a pseudonym. In case you do not know why I'm writing this post, check out the latest gem embedded in recent legislation.

As I Lay Dying

I avoided reading Faulkner for many years. I'm not sure why, just that I had a sense that his writing was difficult to read. But reading books that I might not otherwise read is one reason I enjoy my book club so much.

This month's book is As I Lay Dying. I read it almost in one sitting. It was compelling. Compelling like watching a train wreck.

His style is not difficult to read. In fact, he writes beautifully. Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre--now that was some difficult reading.

Architect Louis Henri Sullivan said, "Form ever follows function." This doesn't mean that function is more important than form, but as Frank Lloyd Wright said (although he didn't practice it), "form and function should be one, joined in a spiritual union." Applying that to As I Lay Dying, the form (writing) is beautiful but the function (plot and characters) is repulsive.

When I finished the book, I was desolate. I don't need happy endings in a book, but I do need a sense of hope.

The woman (PhD in English) who is leading the discussion of this book has asked me twice about the humor in the book. I just didn't see any humor as I read the book nor as I think about it. She suggested that setting Cash's leg in cement was both tragic and humorous. I thought it was only tragic. It was stupid and harmful. This is a crippled family and all of Faulkner's beautiful words did not change that underlying sense of hopelessness I felt. And I can't think of anything I "learned" because of reading this book. I already know that there are crippled people in this world; I am not tempted to set legs in concrete; I know to bury a dead body before the vultures track it; you don't cross a raging flooded river; a father doesn't steal (horses and money) from his children; you don't beat children so you can feel; and a promise to a dying loved one should be tempered by the reality of those who live.

About the only "example of language that you think is particularly poignant, or beautiful, or philosophically perspicacious," as we've been asked to note, is Cash's thoughts about Darl:

"Sometimes I aint so sho who's got ere a right to say when a man is crazy and when he aint. Sometimes I think it aint none of us pure crazy and aint none of us pure sane until the balance of us talks him that-a-way. It's like it ain't so much what a fellow does, but it's the way the majority of folks is looking at him when he does it."

Oh, and Darl's drinking stars out of the gourd at night created an especially beautiful word picture.

So am I missing the boat on this book? Should I try another Faulkner book? Are all his books desolate and repulsive?

UPDATE: Here is review of the book. I'm not sure I agree with the reasoning, although it gives me some things to ponder, such as the implied relativism of the form of the narrative. However, perhaps the conclusion, that it is not only bad but evil, would explain my sense of desolation after I finished the story.

What I learned last year

From Barbara Johnson's book, Laughter from Heaven, a gift from one of our second grade Sunday School students:

I learned two things last year:

1. There is a God.
2. I am not God.

Christmas Presents

Given the teenageness of my sons, I wasn't too excited about buying them a lot of Christmas presents. A piece of coal and a stick seemed just about right. Of course, their desires were of the expensive electronic variety: PCs, ipods, cell phones, games.

Hubby and I finally faced shopping for them the Wednesday before Christmas. We reminisced about their younger days as we strolled through the toy aisles and decided it was much easier to buy for an 8-year-old than a 16-year-old.

We bought mostly functional items, exciting items such as underwear, grooming products (AXE, yuck, but the boys douse themselves with it), new sunglasses to drive in winter's glare, umbrellas so they can stand at the bus stop (yeah, we're too mean to let them drive to school and too lazy to drive them to school every morning), battery operated toothbrushes (an impulse buy), and electric shavers . They have razors but they wanted to try shavers. Oh, and a pro-sized football and a new skateboard.

On Christmas morning they found that Santa did indeed stuff their stockings and set wrapped presents under the tree. They emptied their stockings before breakfast and then we went to church before they opened their presents. They are such cool kids. Each present was greeted with enthusiasm (even the boxer briefs) and thank yous. There were no complaints about the lack of electronics, but they took pleasure in what they received.

So the next day I ordered a Dell computer powerful enough to run their games.

College Days

Overhead at Christmas Eve services: Pastor's wife asks my niece, who attends Purdue University, how school is going. Niece responds, "I'm having fun."

My sister-in-law was aghast, but that would have been my response also at age 19.

Corporal Blair

Thursday, Corporal Jonathon Blair, 21 years old, was laid to rest. I met him when he was just a toddler and I last saw him at a campfire by the river before he went to basic training.

My tears were for the loss of a young man. A young man who planned to marry his sweetheart and become a chef when he got back. A courageous young man killed by the terrorist cowards in Iraq. A young man full of laughter who invented veggie baseball at the river.

My tears were for his mother. A single mother who did a marvelous job raising a son. A mother who drove over 400 miles last September to give him another hug when his deployment was delayed two days. A mother who brought home medals instead of a son Thursday afternoon.

My tears were for the rest of his family. His grandmother and grandfather who helped raise him in his youngest years. His aunt, one of my best friends, who is grieving for herself and for her sister's incredible pain. His six-year-old niece who decided just to pretend that he was still alive.

My tears were for my son who wants to join the army, who only sees honor in a fallen soldier, especially a soldier honored by his comrades. My need to let my son go, make his own decisions, become his own man.

And as I followed the funeral procession, my tears were for the outpouring of respect and thankfulness by the community. Staff Sgt. John Beville, who trained Blair and served with him during his first stint in Iraq, said "I wish all soldiers got this."

Going Overboard

Several years ago, I left my mop and bucket sitting in the hall outside the bathroom before my garden party. This week, I left my To Do list sitting on the counter. My niece Laura and sister-in-law Terri had a laugh about one item that wasn't crossed off: Scrub laundry sink and wipe down laundry walls.

Contrary to all Flylady's mandates, I do go overboard in cleaning when I have a party. It's my way to do the spring/fall cleaning. There are downsides to this approach, other than being exhausted when your guests arrive. My husband announced that, the next time I entertain a large gathering, he and boys would be leaving for a week. They enjoy hosting and would show up for the party though. OK, perhaps I stress out a little and perhaps I become demanding and perhaps my sense of perspective is skewed. I don't care. I love having people in my house.

Enough whoopses already

Thursday afternoon, hubby was warming the car while I finished my hair on the way to Thanksgiving dinner at my inlaws. The boys were dressed and waiting. I heard an outburst and started for the front room. Hubby stopped me. "You don't want to go out there." Scary words. When I worked up the nerve, I saw droplets of milk on the living room ceiling, milk dripping down the living room walls, milk covering the piano, milk on the carpet, milk on the leather chair and even milk on the french doors in the dining room. Seems Ron was drinking a glass of milk, not in the living room which is against the rules, but on the very edge. He decided that he would stop his twin brother from wrestling with the dog with one hand while holding the drink with his other hand. Well, brother didn't like it and responded by kicking out with his leg not knowing his brother had a glass of milk.

I decided to cook the turkey today since the oven would be busy with ham, dressing, bread, etc. for my family's Thanksgiving here tomorrow. Ricky was helping by thoroughly cleaning the range. He removed the burners and knobs and did a good job cleaning. I was mopping the floor, and gave him the (rather clear, I think) instructions to spray and wipe the oven door. When I checked his progress, I discovered he had somehow turned on the Clean oven switch and the oven door was locked, charring a 20+ pound turkey. The outburst, this time, was mine. Hubby finally managed to get the door unlocked and the turkey proceeded to cook normally.

A few hours late, Ricky cleaned the refrigerator for me. He took all the food out, threw away the mysteries, and wiped everything down with soapy warm water with a little bleach. As he put the food back, he announced how he was organizing the food. I went over and opened the door preparing to praise him, when the bar that holds the bottles on the shelf in the door fell out along with the bottles. Only the very large, almost full glass bottle of hot sauce broke splattering sauce and glass shards all over the kitchen. By now, I just had to laugh. Seems he thought the bar was removable and it broke. He pressed it in place but that doesn't work too well with plastic.

I'm a few hours behind schedule for tomorrow's influx of relatives (31 in all), but I know they won't care if I don't do everything on my list. I am so thankful for my family. I'm even thankful for my teenage boys.

Prayer Request

Yesterday several soldiers from the 3rd Brigade Combat Team of the 101st Airborne were killed in a roadside bombing north of Baghdad. They knocked on the door of my friend last night. She refused to open it at first, but that won't change the fact her son will be forever 21 years old. RIP, Jon, you grew up to be an honorable man.

Important Scientific Information

I just discovered an important scientific study from MIT that is not getting the press it deserves. Please go here and read carefully.

First Snow

It snowed yesterday, with a strong biting wind. I worked yesterday. Luckily, I had some indoor work to do - cataloguing the plants in the garden beds, documenting plans for next year's garden, and researching the history of the garden.

It has been a warm, dry fall. Not best for the plants, but wonderful for someone who is working outside for the first time in her life.

Here's another picture of the garden. This is on the lower east side of the garden with a sitting bower to the left and the lake behind it. My plan is to plant this bed more densely and to group the plants for more of a dramatic effect.

Mama Bear Restrained

One of the hardest things for me to do as the boys approach manhood is to shackle my mama bear instincts. Several nights ago at dinner I asked about their day. Ron, with a fleeting expression of pain and disappointment, told me that he was not going to be the basketball manager this year. He was led to believe by the coach that he would continue this position from last year and I was there when the new coach told him he didn't have to attend try-outs. When Ron asked the coach about the scrimmage game this Friday, the coach told him that he wasn't the manager as it was given to one of the boys who attended try-outs.

OK, so the coach can select whomever he wants for this position. Just don't mislead the boys. Just play fair. Just give him a valid reason. I was ready to contact this man and ask some questions, but when I suggested it to Ron as we said prayers that evening, Ron told me to drop it. I think he was pleased that his mama was so much on his side, but he doesn't need his mama to step in anymore.

I'm so proud of how he has handled this. I know he hurts, but no one else would know. He decided not to ask about the decision, but go on with his life. A friend who teaches high school told me once that some kids just have to survive high school and then blossom as adults. Nonetheless, I think it is important for the boys to be involved in school activities, to belong to a group, and I hope (pray) he finds his niche.

Thursday Three

Here's today's Thursday Three from Terry.

1) If you had an unlimited amount of money, what sort of house would you like to have?
This is the hardest question. For certain, I'd spend more money on the land than on the house. The house would overlook the sweeping vista of a valley (all mine!), surrounded by old growth timber, wildflower meadows, lakes, rivers, swamps. Can I also throw in a desert and ocean? I thought I knew about the house until Terry linked to the Gamble House. So in this Arts and Crafts style, my house would have two angled wings connected to the main house by glass enclosed, heated and cooled, covered walkways overlooking the gardens. One wing would be mine and the other wing would be my husband's. My wing would include a conservatory, craft room, multimedia room, and library. Hubby's wing would probably include a woodworking shop and his library. It's not that we don't love to spend time together, but we need room to spread our stuff.

2) If you decided to chunk it and go the full Thoreau route, what sort of hovel would you like to have?
Probably not much different from Thoreau - cabin in the woods. It would be a wildflower woods and have a river running by it instead of a pond.

3) What is the one thing you’d most like to change about the house or apartment you live in right now?
One thing! You're kidding, Terry. We remodeled about six years ago after much thought and deliberation, but there are still things I would change. Since this is one sentence, I'm going to count it as one thing (don't you love colons, semicolons and parentheticals!): make the boys' bedrooms larger; change the entryway; include a baking center in the kitchen; at least double the size of the laundry room; use wood flooring; add soffits to better define the open living space; enlarge the closets; and add more storage. Don't even get me started on the outside.

Urban Experience

Chicago. Saturday night. Somewhere near Garfield Park. Hip Hop Poet night at an urban church. Several groups performing. Request goes out for a male and a female volunteer. A young black female volunteers. Another call for a man. A skinny 16-year-old boy stands. Mouths drop in disbelief at this white boy in glasses. They shrug, motion him forward and hand him the microphone and tell him to rap about his glasses. "Nah, breakdancing." And off he goes. Brings the house down.

This is the story related to me, his mother, by several people when I picked Ricky up from the mission trip to Chicago. No, he didn't breakdance (surprise!) but he sure rapped about it.

All Saints Day

We celebrated All Saints Day this morning at church by displaying the names of those who died during the last year, by communion (with the saints) and by lighting a candle in their memory. This is the picture I shared of my mother.

A Typical (?) Friday

What shall I post about on this quiet fall morning? Another chapter of The Slaughterer? Where the boys are? A Night at the River? OK, here's a recap of yesterday.

The boys are on fall break and headed separate ways. I dropped Ricky off at the church at 8:30 for a missions trip to Chicago. They are taking the bus to South Bend to catch the South Shore train and then taking a city bus to First Church of the Brethren near Garfield Park. This church has an active missions program and Ricky will be doing some type of work project on Saturday, with a "cultural event" Saturday evening. He blew hot and cold about going on this trip (if you have an image of teenage uproar in our house for several days, you are right), but I have a strong sense that this trip will change him more than anyone he serves. He called in the evening to let us know he got there and that he loves us. The call was unexpected and sweet.

After I dropped him off, I headed to work. I was planting tulip bulbs in the West Arbor Bed, when fellow sane gardener whispered, "I think The Slaughterer is in the gentians." I ran across the garden and found three out of the four transplants in her wheelbarrow. I let out several pathetic mews. "My gentians, my sweet gentians!" She felt truly sorry, but how could she have not known? She suggested they be planted there, they were in sunken pots (which she said was confusing), and they were surrounded with stakes and a chain. I dug them out of the wheelbarrow and replanted them, but they are extremely difficult to transplant and the seeds I had oh so gently shaken onto the soil were lost. Of all I've done in these gardens this fall, I was most pleased with the gentians.

I raced home, fed Ron and took him to his weekend activity - Go Mad - sponsored by Youth of Christ. This is essentially a weekend of games and fun with some devotions which caused his twin the angst about having to work in Chicago while his brother played. And why did they ever name this event Go Mad? Say it aloud. That's the last thing teenage boys need to be reminded of.

Then I raced across town, picked up some Subway sandwiches and met hubby and friends for a campfire at the river. We talked and laughed and enjoyed the evening. And hubby and I have a

WEEKEND

TO

OURSELVES!

Fall Gardening at Wildflower Woods

I know it's been a while since I last posted and this may be cheating, but I've been asked to write a garden article for the site's newsletter. Here's the inaugral article for my column called "Under the Arbor."

With a riotous backdrop of chrysanthemums, asters, sedums and cosmos and the sound of school children touring the garden, the gardeners have been busy this fall getting the Formal Garden ready for winter.

Before the heavy frost and snows, most beds have been weeded. The west Arbor bed has been readied for renovation next spring. With deep shade, competition from the wisteria vines and lack of irrigation, this bed was overtaken by wildings, to use a Gene Stratton Porter term. Others may call these wildings weeds, but a weed is only a plant where it doesn’t belong. Wild ginger was running rampant in the arbor bed, but it is a delightful plant along the paths in the woodlands.

Fall is also the time for planting. We are planting spring bulbs, but this fall we had a very special addition to the garden. One of the Board members discovered that a large bed of fringed gentians were in danger of being destroyed by a gravel pit. We dug four plugs, about six inches square, and transplanted them near the flagpole. They were planted in sunken pots filled with gravel, in order to mimic natural conditions. Since fringed gentians are biennial, with seeds germinating into small plants the first year and blooming the next year, we may not see their fragile blue blooms again for two years if we were successful in this tricky transplant.

Seeds have been collected to plant next spring with the extra seeds packaged for sale in the gift shop, benefiting the Society. We are attempting this winter, for the first time, to save the especially beautiful or rare tender annuals by pottings or cuttings. These annuals are spending their winter in the big bay window at the farmhouse.

Many bulbs have been dug and dried on screens in the Garden Shed (reminiscent of The Harvester) before being stored in the cool, dark farmhouse basement for the winter. These include gladiolas, begonias, canna lily, peacock orchid, and dahlias.

The hardy plants overwinter in the garden. Some have been cut back, but those with attractive foliage or seed heads remain intact, as they are especially beautiful in winter laden with snow.

Perhaps the best part of fall gardening is planning for the next season. We have inventoried the plants in the formal garden beds, noted what works well and what hasn’t thrived. We then cross-referenced the existing plants with the plant list maintained by Gene Stratton Porter from 1912 through 1922. And we talk about the “what ifs.” What if we plant these in drifts for more impact? What if we revive the yellow bed, perhaps adding this plant? What if we make part of the herb bed into an herbal tea garden? What if we outline these beds to draw the eye to the layout? What if we move this to the rock garden? What if we add some cabbage roses to the rose bed? What if? What if?

If you have some “what if” ideas to share, now is the time.