Color Essay Number 6: Mauve

A bee visits the Allium in my garden

The Circle garden at the back of our yard

In my spring garden, the color mauve first appears in brightly colored tulips. A few weeks later, alliums bulbs send their deep mauve fireworks skyward. Lilacs and shade loving Meadow Rue then pick up and wave a mauve color banner, as the alliums begin to set seed.

Here in my garden and elsewhere as noted, are some of the prettiest mauve flowers that my husband and I photographed last summer. They run roughly in order of bloom time, from spring to fall. 

Lilac from my garden

Meadow rue in my garden (A great plant for moist shade)

Thyme at Lucy Maud Montgomery Garden, Norval Ontario.

A delicately colored delphinium at Humber Nursery in Toronto.

A mauve clematis in my garden 

There are so many beautiful clematis on the market these days, aren't there? I am a great one at shopping for end of the season bargains and this clematis is one such purchase. I planted it long before I ever dreamed of blogging and so I am sorry, but I do not know its name. 

Thistle (Centaurea hypoleuca ' John Coutts')

New to my garden is this Thistle. I planted it in my front garden last summer, but after seeing it in all its abundant splendor at the Royal Botanical Gardens in Hamilton, I now know that it needs way more space than I alloted it. In the early spring, I think I will definitely have to move it.

Apart from the mauve phlox in my garden, this is probably my favorite mauve flower of the past summer (see below). My picture does not do it justice, but don't let it put you off considering it for your garden. It is very undemanding and blooms for a long period of time. The flower is basically a hollyhock in miniature.

False Mallow 'Party Girl' (Sidalcea) It will self-seed, but is not invasive.

On my "most wanted" list is a Foxglove. (This one pictured, Humber Nursery, Toronto)

Cosmos in a schoolyard in Mississauga, Ontario

Cosmos are great, easy to grow annuals and I plan to add more to my garden next year. I must confess that I usually cheat and buy young seedlings, rather than start my own plants from seeds. ( If I were to plant the seeds in the garden directly, I would never see flowers before the cold of fall set in. Our growing season here is just too short.)

Obedient Flower ( warning: some varieties are invasive)

Laura Bright Eyes in my front garden. Phlox is always described as tolerating shade, but I find that it does not perform nearly as well in shade.

Pale Mauve Sedum at Edwards Garden, Toronto

I have a small collection of sedums, including this pale mauve variety above. (My clump is more modest than this lovely one at Edwards Gardens in Toronto. I was so impressed with the display of sedums there, that I am determined to add to my own collection next summer.)

Edwards Gardens, Toronto

A final bit of mauve from the fall season to end with: An ornamental cabbage with a mauve heart.

Have a great weekend!

My Everyday Hero

So often, disease and ill health take an enormous toll in the final years of one's life and incapable of living any longer on your own, you find yourself to be an unwilling tenant of a nursing home. Despite the best efforts of the nursing staff, the impersonal surroundings seem frightening and unfamiliar. Memories of the place you once knew as home, become your solace. If you could only go back home, everything would feel normal again. 

Then a unique opportunity presents itself and a door lingers open after a careless visitor enters the locked Alzheimer's ward. You seize the opportunity and steal unnoticed into the stairwell. Then, you slip quietly down the stairs and out into the fresh air. You take a deep breath and feel happy for the first time in months. You are going home.

It was the sort evening when we wished we didn't have to walk the dogs. The light drizzle meant that the dogs would have to be towel-dried when we got home. Still, there was no getting round it. After a day of being pent up in the house while we were at work, they needed to be walked. So with the dogs in tow, we headed out to make our nightly circuit of the neighborhood. 

A few minutes into our walk, we learned about a missing woman from our neighbors, who were enjoying a late night drink under the cover of their front porch. She was an Alzheimer's patient that had wandered away from a nursing home earlier in the day. Moments before our arrival at their front porch, our neighbors had spoken to her frantic relations, who were out combing the area looking for her. (Some local citizen had spotted her in the neighborhood and called the police. Her relations were acting on this tip.) 

We said our good nights to the neighbors and continued down the road to our house on the corner. Then, just as we were minutes from our front door, we saw a shadowy figure cross the intersection in front of us. While a pedestrian may not generally be a noteworthy sight, in our rural area, foot traffic is a rarity. 

We turned to look at one another. Could this be the missing Alzhemeir's pateint? Neither of us was willing to ignore the possibility. 

We tend to think of heros as people who make grand, fearless gestures like dashing into a burning building to save a life. But sometimes being a hero is a simple matter of stepping up, while most people might step away or leave a rescue to someone else. 

When we reached the driveway, I took the dogs inside and Harold got into our car. He put his cell phone on speaker phone and called the local police. From the police dispatcher, he got a description of the missing patient. Apparently, she had been wearing a blue terry robe and slippers when she wandered from the home. He also found out her first name, Helen (name changed).

Following in the direction we had seen her walking, Harold headed up the hill. He drove a little ways past the woman and pulled the car into the driveway of a closed business. As she reached the crest of the hill, he could she her more clearly. Her hair was wet and her terry robe was soaked through, after hours of walking in the rain. Her slippered feet must have been freezing.

Harold watched her approach the car with trepidation. How to play this? He certainly didn't want to startle her, only keep her in one spot, until the police could arrive. With the police dispatcher still listening, incase things went wrong, he rolled down the car window and called out her name using the most friendly and familiar tone he could muster,"Hi Helen!"

Helen came to a halt next to the car. She wasn't alarmed at all. After all, this man knew her name.

"Where are you off to tonight?", Harold asked.

Despite her exhaustion and confusion, Helen knew exactly where she was going. "I'm going home", she answered back.

Looking for any excuse to detain her further, Harold continued, "And where is home?"

"I live in Bramalea. It's just down the road here.", she replied confidently. The truly heartbreaking thing about this statement was, not only was Helen walking south, while the suburb of Bramalea lay far to the east, she was a many, many miles from the house in Bramalea that she considered to be her "home".

Thankfully, a police cruiser which had been in the area, pulled up along side Harold's car moments later. A young officer strode over, "Helen! We've been looking for you all night!" The officer thanked my husband and lead a very cold and weary Helen to his cruiser. With this, the evening ended quietly.

My dearest husband is always willing to step in and lend a hand. As a member of Scouts Canada, he tries to lead by example and is always willing to "do a good turn."

The man I married twenty-six years ago is still my best friend. He is the plucky sidekick on all my crazy adventures and the photographer behind many of the best close-ups on this blog. He is both my greatest   supporter and harshest critic. He is the hero of all my stories.

Happy 50th birthday Harold. I love you!

Meet the Bunny

Yesterday marked the celebration of Chinese New Years, and with that we have officially entered the year of the rabbit. Early this morning I found to myself thinking, what more fitting time to introduce our smallest family member. Meet our bunny...

Now, I have to tell you, that when my only son told me that he wanted to get a pet rabbit, I said, "No!" No way, no how, are we going to have a bunny in our already crowded house!

And I backed up this edict with a perfectly good list of valid reasons why it was not a good idea. Figuring principally amongst them, was my feeling that it was just plain cruel to make such a creature spend its entire life in a small cage. After all, bunnies are a hopping, jumping and running sort of animal.

One of his baby bunny pictures

The problem was that my son, who inherited much of my temperament and personality, has inside information on just how to get around me and any objections I might have.

Part one of his bunny acquisition strategy, involved a bout of selective amnesia! He patiently waited for an appropriate period of time to pass, before laying claim to an entirely different memory of our bunny discussion. The conversation, which I clearly recall ending with the firm and fixed determination "no bunny", he recalls ending with a much less negative resolution "no bunny, unless that bunny has a really big cage".

The second phase of my son's clever strategy was easily executed.

Don't ask Mum about having a rabbit a second time, buy the bunny and simply arrive home with him one day completely unannounced. Present the cutest face imaginable and wait for Mum's firm resolve to melt away into mush. My son knows all to well that I have a weakness for anything cute and furry.

And I ask you, wouldn't you have difficulty saying no to this cute, furry face with a big human face pouting right behind it?

And what, might you wonder, was my son's answer to the life in a small cage dilemma? He built a gigantic, do-it-yourself, multi-platform, three story high, bunny penthouse suite.

He met the last of my limp objections with slick phrases like, "Don't worry Mum. We'll clean his cage every few days". Not that I bought that one for even a second!

Honey is much loved by my son and his girlfriend Hanna. Here Honey gives Hanna a kiss on the nose.

A year or so has past. Who now fusses the most over that darn bunny? Me of course! Standing in the vegetable section of the super market, I often find myself inspecting the display of celery to determine which bunch has best assortment of fresh, young leaves at its core, because I know those young shoots are Honey's favorite treat.

When I climb the stairs, Honey usually sees me coming, from his comfortable perch near the doorway of my son's room. He dances a little bunny gig of pleasure, because he knows, soft-hearted person that I am, I will stop by his cage to give him a fruit drop or yogurt bunny treat.

Now, I do have a minor degree of revenge in all this. Bunnies are nocturnal animals. Honey doses during the day and then cavorts around his cage at night, jumping from one level to the next. This noise make it hard for my son to get a good night's sleep.

When he gets too rambunctious though, poor Honey gets evicted from the bedroom and banished to a small cage in the spare room.

Honey in Hanna's arms.

It is in this small cage that I often find him early in the morning. I feel so sorry for him, that of course I have to take a moment to console him with a cuddle. I cradle him in my arms and stroke his long velvet ears. He relaxes and his head drops back. One eye closes, while the other stays partly open, watching me, just in case. Then slowly, he gets warm and comfortable there in the crook of my arm. His nose, which always twitches as he sniffs the air, wiggles less frequently. Then both his eyes shut, as he drifts off into sweet bunny dreams....

Have a great weekend everyone!

A few highlights from the Interior Design Show in Toronto

What happens when you pair talented design siblings and ask them to create a space? You get fun, colorful and creative rooms. Take a peak at these rooms from the 2011 Interior Design Show in Toronto which were created by the talented design teams of: Thien & My Ta Trung, David & Glenn Dixon, Sarah & Theo Richardson and Jason & Lars Dressler.

Interior design by David and Glen Dixon.

The shadows cast on the interior walls were created by hundreds of white paper cranes which were 

suspended from the ceiling.

Interior design by David and Glen Dixon.

There were beautiful flowers everywhere at the show.

As well as the Sibling Revelry spaces, there were many other beautiful displays. 

I love the graphic appeal of using a flag as artwork. The crystal chandelier, white flowers and green Fireking china in this display were a perfect counterpoint to the oversized red, white and blue flag. British designer Timothy Oulton for UpCountry.

www.snobstuff.com

This is where my photography gets a bit sketchy, but I had to show you this Ikea kitchen because it was such a standout for its clever use of inexpensive lighting. Above the dark wood-toned Ikea kitchen, the designer hung a large collection of white paper shades to great effect.

There was everything from china to pillows at the show. Pillows: Lily Yung

This display was part of the Style at Home magazine booth. 

On the left is a detail of a beautiful desk by talented Jodi Racicot, partner to Marguerite of the blog Canoe Corner. Right blankets from Norway, distributed in Canada by Julia Manitius, Vancouver. www.oleana.no

For more information about the show, design and products shown visit: http://www.interiordesignshow.com/ 

Taking it Out Front: Gardening in the Public Eye

Gardening in the relative seclusion of the backyard is one thing. Taking gardening out front is sometimes a brave act of self-expression that is not for the faint of heart!


One bright, sunny day in early summer, I was out in my front garden attempting to prune a wildly overgrown forsythia into submission. The afternoon was hot with the first flush of summer humidity. Without much thought beyond comfort, I had dressed in navy shorts and an old worn tank top.

As the story unfolds you will see, that this was perhaps shortsighted for a number of reasons. First among them: the branches of the uncooperative bush was fighting back by poking and scratching my bare arms and legs.

When I paused for a breather, I looked over to see a compact car packed with teenage boys had come to stop at the red light at the corner. Through the car's open window I could hear their boisterous laughter and fragments of conversation overtop of some rather loud music. While stopped for the light, there was little to occupy their attention, so their gaze turned in my direction. Then one of them, no doubt egged on by the society of his peers, yelled out a very rude comment, the kind of demeaning observation that only a cocky teenage boy would dare say in public.

How does one respond to such a brazen remark without endangering one's dignity even further? Even if you are quick enough to fire-off a sharp tongued zinger, it would probably only up the anti and escalate an already unpleasant situation. After all it doesn't take much mental agility to be cruel.

Mid-summer Tiger lily

Let's face it, as a society we take particular interest in not only making judgements, but sharing our observations, however impolite. Wether its tuning in to see who will be voted off the island this week or calling in to vote for your favorite singer or dancer on this season's latest slate of reality TV, we love to participate in passing judgement.

You would think that one's home and garden would be an oasis from the mad world of snap judgements. Certainly this may be true for a secluded back garden, but take it out front on to a very busy street corner like mine and you quickly discover that you are the unwilling center of attention for every bored motorist passing by.

Gardening is my escape from day to day concerns. Though I regard it as my own personal oasis, when walking into my garden on our busy corner, I sometimes feel as if I have just stepped on to a theatrical stage.

I don't want to worry about clothes, hair and makeup when I garden, but it is hard not to be self-conscious when people gawk and stare as if the simple act of deadheading a rose bush was the most fascinating thing they ever saw.

God forbid you forget yourself for a moment and bend over to pull out a weed without having carefully considered the view you might be presenting to the world!

Now you may respond that I should be flattered by all this attention. No, not really! Just imagine if you could ask an animal at the zoo if he is flattered by all the gawkers. If he doesn't eat you for the sheer audacity of your question, he would tell you that there is nothing flattering about being watched.

Sometimes as the only sentinel at a busy intersection, I also find that motorists expect you to be freely willing to dispense driving directions. When I car slows, I now find myself preparing a mental map of local roads and calling up the addresses of popular destinations like the discount chicken outlet several streets over.

Seriously, it is beyond me how someone can leave the house with no idea whatsoever of how to get to their destination. How many times have I had to deal with a motorist on Venus who wants to get to Pluto. So often, I have been tempted to say impatiently to the lost motorist, "It's hopeless! Retrace your steps and go home. Then start over, this time with a map!" It has gotten to the point that, in order to deal with the litany of lost souls, we have begun to store local street maps in a wicker basket on the front porch. Believe you me, I have considered sending an invoice the local tourist authority for services rendered!

Late summer bloomer.

There are also garden questions from passing motorists. One woman, a local school bus driver who had stopped for the red light called out to ask the name of one of my roses. With the seconds clicking rapidly by before the light went green, I felt like I was on a game show: Name that Rose!  With the panic of the contestant knowing the buzzer was about to ring, I quickly replied that I had forgotten the name and would have to dig out my plant list and look it up. In the seconds before the light turned green, I did manage to give her the name of the nursery, hoping that she might look up the rose herself. Well the very next day, didn't she roll down her window again and ask to know if I had looked up the rose's name. Of course I was polite, but I felt like replying that I had no idea I was working to a deadline.

Fall mums in the front garden.

Not only am I expected to dispense free gardening advice, I am also expected to be willing to hand out free stuff. By way of example, one woman after a few brief pleasantries, practically demanded to know if I had any "suckers". Another woman, who saw me moving a large perennial clump, stopped her car to ask me if I was throwing the plant out and could she have it?

For me, generosity is not something you ask for or expect, it is something you receive.

Frost crystals on one of the roses.

Now, I have to balance this long rant to say, that I have also had wonderful feedback on my garden. There has been so many times when I have been favored with the ultimate comment. Motorists have taken the time to pull their car to the side of the road and have crossed the busy street just to tell me how much they enjoyed seeing the garden's parade of summer flowers. In particular, I remember one older gentleman who wanted to shake my hand and tell me that my garden brought him "great joy" every time he passed by. I was very touched and flattered.