Sweet Dreams and Blue Eyes

I relived one of the literally sweetest experiences of my childhood yesterday and I didn't even have to journey the five hours back "home" to the groves my father used to tend so lovingly. We Glad gardeners visited a local nursery just to get one replacement plant for our project of last fall.

navel oranges in bloom

We were looking for a helianthemum, and they are in the area in back of the store, so we passed through the breezeway and were suddenly enveloped, not in a breeze but in a stillness heavy with fruit and flowers.

Overlapping rows of pots containing various citrus trees, including many oranges and mandarins, lined the alley and were exhaling their essence into that space. For me it was a whiff of the deep past, springtimes slowed down to a dream -- orange trees taking their sweet time and confusing the mind, because isn't springtime when everything and everyone is waking up and getting busy...?... but this air is like a drug that makes me want to lie on the grass and let my eyelids droop.

grapefruit and orange trees side-by-side

Our house was surrounded on all sides by orange trees, so that for many weeks every year we walked around in our own tropical island of scent. Can you imagine living in that house and being allergic to orange blossoms? Two family members were -- and I pity them mightily, because orange blossoms are one of the happiest things in the data bank of my senses.

My husband and I had only a few minutes to find our plant, so I couldn't linger, I quickly pushed on through to the shelves of California native plants and other drought-tolerant species. Our first choice wasn't there, but we found this:

I had luckily forgotten my Western Garden Book in the car so I had to make two more passes through the little paradise to retrieve it. Then we read a bit together about the above plant and some other offerings.

In the end we did decide on this dear low-growing plant, a newish species of Blue-eyed Grass, developed from a California native, and sufficiently xerophytic for our needs. I remember my friend May showing me one of these wildflowers decades ago as we hiked in the Coast Ranges of our state. They aren't really grasses but are actually in the Iris family, which seems obvious now that I know it.

new planting last October

Except for the one that died, all the plants of our project shown at right are bigger now, but there's still a lot of space to be filled in. 

I can't settle on which is more fun as a name, Sisyrinchium or Blue-eyed Grass. This is the first we've ever had them in our yard, and as you can see, we bought two, because they are small. I planted them tonight, where a blue penstemon, actually two, one after the other, had died last year. I hope to have nice photos of them and the whole bed to show in the future.







And before the citrus bloom is past I will return to that nursery when I have time enough time to wander. I'll consider the snapdragons in the back, and then the perennials in the front, and I'll go back and forth through the citrus tree lane at least a few times. I'll walk slowly each time past the mandarins and Meyer lemons and orange trees and sip my sweet daydream.

I pose my nest among flowers.

When the latest birthday package came in the mail I was alone in the house. I unwrapped the tissue paper knowing already that the gift inside had been handmade by my daughter-in-law Joy. It appeared to be something very small and lightweight....and then out came a knitted nest of eggs! The beauty of them and the love that had been expressed by the patient labor...my hands actually began to shake -- lucky these eggs are soft and comfortable and not brittle.

I began to pose my new toys around the house, and then went outdoors to find a natural setting too. Every day it seems there is a new flower somewhere, so I had lots of choices of where to plant my nest.

I don't remember what these tall spiky flowers are; they grow from bulbs I planted a few years ago. They are striking for a couple of weeks, but then the flowers get too heavy and the stalks lie down on the sidewalk by the front door.

So we should enjoy them right now at their peak, before they get annoying. If you enlarge the photo above you might see Mr. Glad's bent back, beyond the rosemary bush at the top.

And a glimpse of Johnny Jump-Ups and various other little blooms behind this close-up.




A happy discovery was that the helianthemum I have been nursing along for almost two years has finally bloomed! I know it does still look a bit scraggly but I am greatly encouraged. I think it is named Henfield Brilliant.
 
  

Eventually I took a picture of my birthday eggs nestled among the simple alyssum flowers. Then I brought them back indoors to be the near-perfect springtime table decoration. They would be completely perfect if they didn't make me miss the dear gift-giver herself. Thank you, Joy!

Blowing over tulips and into turbines...

When the spring winds blow, the howling through the trees and the chimes of the patio bells drown out the call of the garden so that I can listen to the world's discussions on many matters, including -- wind! Wind power, to be precise, and wind farms.





I had no idea that those scatterings of wind turbines on the Altamont Pass east of San Francisco were called farms. When a new turbine is installed they even call it a planting. Altamont is the wind farm I am most familiar with, but now I've seen photos of much more beautiful and even brilliant settings for these harnessers of wind energy, such as tulip fields in The Netherlands.

Turbines neatly lined up along a canal or placed here and there among what is primarily a tulip farm don't impress me the way they do when spread over hills that would ordinarily be drab without them. In those cases, like the slopes in California that in summer turn golden brown -- or a brown that is just plain dull -- the wind turbines grace the slopes with dynamic art.

I haven't taken the time to exit the freeway and drive to a good vantage point, but I think that one man who did got some lovely pictures that capture the beauty. The most artistic photographs cost more than I'm willing to pay for permission.

Several colorful photos are on the Pattern Energy site, gorgeous shots of their turbines at installations in Manitoba, Nevada, California and Texas. And some of these pages I'm linking to tell the stories of wind farm controversy in more depth than I will, so you might like to visit them for that reason, too.

The problem with the turbines is that they kill birds. The ones on the Altamont Pass kill more raptors than any other wind farm in the world, including the protected Golden Eagles, of which the world's largest breeding population lives in this area.

This article explains that worldwide the deaths from wind turbines are a small fraction of total bird deaths from run-ins with manmade structures such as office buildings, power lines and our houses; who hasn't experienced the dismay of hearing a small bird hitting - whack! - against a window? Even nuclear and fossil-fuel plants kill more birds than these converters of wind energy.

But it has been found that the more modern wind turbines, which are taller and slower, kill a much smaller number of raptors. So the old ones are being replaced. Bird and bat mortality are the topics of this site, annoyingly formatted but with useful links and an explanation of why Altamont wind turbines have been particularly deadly for birds.

Driving along Interstate 5 in California, we more than once have passed a truck carrying one turbine blade. These things are huge!

 Here is a photo of a "re-planting" of a turbine.

If I were to take a trip past those fields of wind turbines this month the scene might be greener and wetter, something like this.

The labor and intelligence of mankind that is applied to growing tulips results in a product that gives delight to millions of people. The wind turbine is an elegant result of technology, a thing of beauty in itself for its simplicity of design, but also as a symbol of man working with nature and using the gifts of the Creator. Thanks to God for putting some of His own creativity into us His creatures. May the glory go to Him.

Blossoming Windows

A while back when I visited my favorite market the window painter was in the very act of painting new scenes. I was thrilled to meet the man and catch him in the process.

He was painting daffodils again - they were the images I had first photographed and shared here. Since then his designs have varied with the seasons, but they are always refreshingly non-commercial and cheerful.

 


Last fall I was able to capture some geese that seemingly dropped down from the skies to grace the windows.

And this month the daffodils are gone to make room for flowering trees.






 

I didn't notice until I greatly enlarged the yellow tree how its curving trunk and bright flowers mirror the real ones in the parking lot, reflected in the window.










Perhaps a little bit of every window he's painted remains on the artist's sweatshirt!

It's not about feeling balanced.

From another site:

No frail human morality can ever hope to contain the overflowing fullness of life with which Christ desires to rejuvenate the faithful.

...The world will not be saved by optimistic humanism that believes human progress and morality will eventually save the world. For Dostoevsky and the church fathers, man’s deepest problems are not moral, nor even psychological, but ultimately existential and ontological. It’s not about following the rules or feeling balanced. It is a matter of choice and it is a matter of human nature being touched by the hand of God Himself.

Only by daring to leap towards God in spite of the good and evil that exist in the heart can the believer hope to get beyond the contradiction of the human condition. In order to avoid descending into nihilism, Dostoevsky offers his readers another path: the acceptance of suffering and affliction in the context of a relationship with God. It is only in this context that man is able to recognize a path out of his fallen condition. It is only this Love that is able to transform suffering into salvific joy.

Read more here: Ancient Christian Wisdom blog

Valentine and Grenadine

Meet my darling Miss Grenadine. She was a birthday present from Mr. Glad, and here she sits on the chair next to my computer table, keeping me company. She is small and squishable and even machine-washable, so that I could take her places in my purse and let toddler grand-girls play with her.

She came from Corolle dolls equipped with that cute name, so I don't have to think up a new one. Any of you grandmas or mamas who like her should know that she's even safe for newborns. She's a doll of a doll!

I had to spend much of my birthday on an airplane, which is not the worst thing that could happen -- I've had birthdays I liked much less. Anyway, there wasn't much actual celebrating on the exact date. But before and since, I have been remembered and greeted and gifted in many ways.

Books, music, flowers, a Japanese lunch date...Kate brought me exotic blood-orange-infused olive oil on the train from D.C. to Philadelphia. All nourishing things that make one glad to have been born.





Pearl sent me this funny card. She is the family's most accomplished baker and if she had been here she'd have given me proper carbs. As it is, she gave me inspiration to bake myself a cake after Pascha.




And she sent along a belated Valentine from Maggie. If you can't see it clearly enough it's worth clicking on the photo to enlarge to reading size:

That girl cracks me up! 

Her cousin Annie on the other side of the country -- this side -- is selling coffee, cocoa mix and biscotti for American Heritage Girls. I didn't have to hesitate a minute before checking off a few items on the order form; they can come right out of the grocery budget. I'll get to see that dear girl and pick up my goodies at the end of May.

More rain is forecast for tomorrow - yay! But the sun is shining this afternoon. I can see from here calla lilies blooming out beyond the manzanita bush; they are asking to come inside and help brighten up the house. I'll go now and bring some in.

Do not wait lazily.

I celebrated Easter after a fashion with Mr. Glad, but with some restraint on my part, because we Orthodox are still in Lent. The other day when my Internet was down and I couldn't read recent articles, I looked through my computer documents for lenten inspiration and found this talk given in London in 1968. I find everything Met. Anthony says to be as current as God.

 

Metropolitan Anthony of Sourozh
AN INTRODUCTION TO LENT

Contrary to what many think or feel, Lent is a time of joy. It is a time when we come back to life. It is a time when we shake off what is bad and dead in us in order to become able to live, to live with all the vastness, all the depth, and all the intensity to which we are called. Unless we understand this quality of joy in Lent, we will make of it a monstrous caricature, a time when in God's own name we make our life a misery. 

 

This notion of joy connected with effort, with ascetical endeavour, with strenuous effort may indeed seem strange, and yet it runs through the whole of our spiritual life, through the life of the Church and the life of the Gospel. The Kingdom of God is something to be conquered. It is not simply given to those who leisurely, lazily wait for it to come. To those who wait for it in that spirit, it will come indeed: it will come at midnight; it will come like the Judgement of God, like the thief who enters when he is not expected, like the bridegroom, who arrives while the foolish virgins are asleep. This is not the way in which we should await Judgement and the Kingdom.

Read the rest here.