Peas On Earth... Everywhere

I have cause to do a happy dance this afternoon. I spent the e-n-t-i-r-e morning cooling my heels (actually devouring Marisha Pessl's AMAZING first novel Special Topics in Calamity Physics) at the county court house, having reported like the good citizen I am for jury duty. Around lunch time, a nattily attired judge climbed the podium (not exactly like a rappeler or fence-jumper, but with a sprightly bounce in his step nonetheless) to let us know that despite expectations to the contrary all of that day's cases "had resolved." He thanked us for our "service" and dismissed us. And that's it for another year, folks. Is this a great country, or what? I would have been glad to serve, actually. I keep showing up when they call me, thinking finally my day has come, only to have all the perps cop a plea.

And I was afraid it would get too hot too soon for the peas to offer a decent crop this year. Silly me. I give away bagsful every week, and the rest go into salads and stirfries. No, they are not covered with powdery mildew, or fusillarium rot, or whatever it is that plagues peas. That's merely microscopic condensation from their hour in the refrigerator.

A few more firsts. Optimistically planted a large Costco bag of crocosmia bulbs early in the spring, not quite believing that something so tropical, so exotic, so hot-looking, would actually want to bloom in my garden. And despite my lack of confidence, this is what they look like:

Oriental lilies are everywhere. Ordered the bulbs from Jackson and Perkins, expecting lots of the gorgeous freckled ones with creamy centers and pink-tinted petal edges. Don't get me wrong, these are attractive. Just not quite what I expected.

I cavalierly tossed a couple handfuls of sunflower seeds into the ground at the fence line in the side yard, where they receive very little water and even less attention. My reward for this neglect is the first bloom, below. Many of the stalks are double the height of the 5-foot fence that separates us from the neighbors, which is a good thing because their (noisy and messy) longterm renovation is well underway to double the size of the house.

Let the Harvest Begin

The vegetable garden is in full swing; I pick sugar snap peas every day, green beans twice a week, a handful of strawberries now and then (and they're sweeter and more intensely flavored than those at the farmers market), lots of little artichokes, zucchini and yellow scallop squash each week along with Swiss chard and the last of the lettuce, which is bolting now that we had a few Inferno Days last week when the temperature went up over 100 degrees and stayed there until the marine layer came in to cool us off. Needless to say the lettuce, a "cool weather" crop, did not approve.

In the flower beds, pink astilbe is in bloom far later in the season than I would ever have expected. It lives in an area with fairly constant deep shade, which surely had something to do with its June burst of flower. Gives new meaning to the term "late bloomer."

All pieces of the bed jacket are done and on the blocking board. The jacket's border is giving me fits, however. Short-rowing just isn't that difficult, but I'm having problems with the row count (only ten; I can certainly count that far) and getting them to end up on the correct side of the pattern to begin a new repeat. I'm determined to figure this out, but admit I've been perusing my pattern books to see if I can't find a subdued ruffle or edging I might like better than the one specified by McGowan-Michael in her book.

Fifty Down, and Fifty To Go

As of yesterday, I am fifty years old.

Just this once, I don't have to share:

Multi-Tasking

Yeah, right. Multi-tasking. I'll just keep telling myself that. Baby sweater obligation completed, I find myself once again with two projects on the needles. The green cardi from Nashua Handknits #3 you've already seen in progress, and I'd set it aside to make the baby sweater. Looks like it will remain on the back burner for a while longer, although I do love it and intend to finish it in time to wear in the fall:

I got as far as completing the shaped bottom, which is sort of a modified version of the traditional feather and fan stitch (and I'm doing it in one piece on circular needles to eliminate side seams), when I was struck by the desire - the need - the compulsion - to make a completely different cardi from Knitting Lingerie Style by Joan McGowan-Michael. Needed something subtly amazing to wear over a rather bare summer dress, a nude color with a cream paisley pattern. What a fabulous, feminine collection of patterns she has given us! In my stash, I happened to have (what a coincidence!) enough Manos in an ethereal shade of creamy pink to make the bed jacket shown here:

I know the Manos will pill, but I'll treat the jacket gently. On size 9 needles it's a quick project, at least so far. Haven't yet gotten to the short rowing for the ruffle... always a challenge for me no matter how often I try to master it. I finished the back in an evening, and am a good way up the two front panels today. I'm already trying to decide which of my vintage mother-of-pearl buttons will make the perfect closure at the side.

Have I ever mentioned hollyhocks here? Don't think so, yet look at this specimen. Taller than the 6' fence behind it, sturdy of stalk and prolific of flower. My, oh my - gorgeous. I planted several of these about five years ago, but only this one and a couple of the others return year after year. Guess I ought to plant a few more.

This afternoon, in yet another attempt to keep the peach tree from keeling over before the fruit ripens, I culled at least another hundred babies. So sad. Does anyone have a recipe that calls for seriously underripe peaches?

Happy June!

The (Very Big) baby sweater is washed, blocked, and finished except for the buttons: Yippee! The child may not be able to wear it until he enters toddlerhood, but at least I know he'll fit into it at some point! Made a collar instead of the hood, and my co-knitter found bright toggle buttons to finish it off.


My husband loves these calla lilies, and the color is so unusual. We transplanted them out of a pot into the ground in several locations, and they are just now coming into bloom:

Here are the first strawberries, nice and high up in the pot where Vincent van Bunny can't reach them. Mr. Lizard is made of plaster, so he remains untempted by their approaching ripeness. Nonetheless, I check them every day just in case. So far, no competition.

This clematis is living proof of the persistence of nature. Every year, the vine gamely poked up out of the ground at one corner of the iron fence. Thinking it a mere weed in my first couple of years tending to this patch of ground, I yanked it up and tossed it into the green waste bin. No pesky kudzu-like vines were about to offer competition to my prized climbing roses! Fast forward six years and suddenly this spring, having planted several other clematis... I realized with a slightly sick feeling that the leaves on this errant vine bear a suspiciously strong resemblance to the clematis that I had planted with such tenderness and care in other parts of the garden this spring. So I let it stay... just to see what it would do. Lo and behold, as the saying goes, this was the beauty awaiting my mortified eyes the other day when I noticed it had burst into bloom, mocking my faithlessness:

Baby zucchini are appearing in the vegetable beds, and tonight I steamed the first little yellow scallop squash to have with dinner. These remind me of little jewels, and this yellow-green color combination thrills me. If only I could find some hand-dyed yarn in this range!