Anniversary

When Earl and I got married, 24 years ago tomorrow, in a holler in Kentucky, the tiger lilies were in bloom all along the creek in front of my parents' log cabin. We stood in front of an arch of fake flowers that were overshadowed by the tiger lilies which reached up on slender stems and burst forth in a firework of orange flowers.

Here is our small wedding party. Just perfect really. My best friend Tracey,
Earl's  niece Erin as our flower girl. Earl's brother Art as his best man, plus the priest.
Can you see the tiger lilies behind us?

As the climate has changed, the tiger lilies have bloomed earlier and earlier. Last year, they had even finished blooming in Ohio by our anniversary. Where we live in Ohio is four hours north of the site of our wedding in Kentucky.
This year, the spring was late so everything is blooming later.That's why the tiger lilies are in full bloom this year as we celebrate our anniversary.

Happy Anniversary to my husband. Like
the tiger lilies, we're still blooming each year. 

If I had it to do again, I would definitely coordinate the wedding party with the outdoor flowers. Plus, it's a nice reminder about the world around us as the years fly by.

Saturday Snapshot -- Spring

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.
I'm sure everyone who lives through the Midwest or Northeast United States is posting pictures of the miracles that have popped up through the last week.

We've had weather in the 80s.
Usually, if we went south to Florida this time of year, for spring break, we would watch the foliage gradually change to spring. We'd see the redbuds blooming in Tennessee or Georgia. Then fully-leafed trees in southern Georgia and finally palm trees in Florida.

Now, the trees have bloomed here, along with spring flowers.

Of course, along with the beautiful blooms, comes the stormy weather. I took this picture before I headed to the basement to wait out the tornado warning.

Still, everyone has been enjoying the warmer weather. Even 18-year-old boys mourning the end of basketball season.

Saturday Snapshot -- Morning Glories

To participate in the Saturday Snapshot meme post a photo that you (or a friend or family member) have taken then leave a direct link to your post on Alyce's blog At Home With Books. Photos can be old or new, and be of any subject as long as they are clean and appropriate for all eyes to see. How much detail you give in the caption is entirely up to you. Please don’t post random photos that you find online.

We planted morning glories a couple of years ago and they come back every year. They grow up the black, wrought-iron railing, and this one has decided to take over the rocking chair on the back porch.
The morning glories open in the morning then close the rest of the day. But they're back open, pink and purple, the next morning.

Rainbow of Petals

Last week I wrote about my garden surprise -- the gladiolus that sprang up from nowhere. Okay, I had planted the bulbs, but I forgot, so I was surprised by them. I was alerted by the peachy, rosy color of the first gladiolus that bloomed.
Nothing else in my garden is that color.
But I didn't want you to think that gladiolus only come in that color. We planted bulbs randomly and these are the colors we have seen so far.

White, of course. Pure, but slightly predictable in a flower.


The palest pink tipped with brighter pinks at the edges, and, wait? What's that? Yellow in the center? Who does your decorating, gladiolus, because that looks phenomenal.


This one looked intensely purple before opening and then once opened, released its purple to the wind and was satisfied to be lavender tinged.


The red is so dark and rich. It made me want to plan a December wedding with girls in green taffeta dresses and armloads of red velvety gladiolus.


And then I found these. Yellow, no shrinking yellow, but a hello-I'm-here yellow with reddish orange in the center. And the blooms opened all along the stem at the same time, flashly, like a can-can girl at the Moulin Rouge.
Oh, gladiolus, you flirts. You promised color and drama, and you delivered.

Garden Secrets

Mary, Mary, quite contrary, has does your garden grow?
I've been thinking about my garden lately, but this rhyme reminds me of my friend Pat who auditioned for a fairytale theme park when she was a little girl and got the part of Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Her mother, who I can picture in low heels, a shirtwaist dress and a string of pearls, smirked a bit at the part she received.
Anyway, last year at this time, my flower garden at front was devoid of color, except for green and sometimes brown. Once the spring Irises and the June tiger lilies have faded, I had no color. I vowed that this year, July would have color.
I have a few spots of color, like my balloon flower

or my echinacia.

But they are sparse so far, not spreading in my garden. So this year, I planned ahead.I ordered some zinnias from the PTA plant sale, and my husband planted them along the front.
Zinnias are kind of flirtatious. They start to show a bud and they tease you that they will arrive soon.

And then you wait and wait for them to actually open.
Oh, but when they do.
They appear in shades of yellow, orange and red, and even purple.

They come in pink:

And even pinker:

They start out opening flat like a daisy then add layers and layers of petals until they are thick and lush.

Here's a photo from the back garden that shows a zinnia mingling with a pink hollyhock and some blooming purple hostas.
The hollyhocks come every other year and the soil around this house doesn't appear to nourish the hollyhocks that I've transplanted from my parents' house in Kentucky to Michigan to Ohio. The hostas are these hilarious little low growing shade plants that suddenly send a shoot straight up in the air, like a flag pole with purple hanging blooms.
But wait until I tell you about the surprise in my garden. I planted something that I forgot.
I'll tell you next time I'm feeling contrary.

Got Hope?

This little flower bloomed yesterday surrounded by dry leaves. It must not be aware of the climate. Hope springs eternal in humans and flora.