gardening, Nature, Stories, Weather

My New Love

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Today’s post comes to us from Jacque.

I am smitten. I met my new true love in July at a near by nursery.  Her name is Rosy Jane Indian Feather.

Every few years I find a new plant that entrances and seduces me. I plant it, baby it, admire it, and then buy more of them for years to come.  This year it was Rosy Jane.   It is not just an infatuation.  It is a romance, but so much more. I think it will become a commitment.

Past loves have been Indigo salvia, an annual; another annual–licorice plant, both sage color and mint green; the wave petunia. Several years ago it was the small petunias that I cannot remember the name of.  They all still show up in my pots.

And now I have added Rosy Jane. Tiny pink flowers appear at the end of a long stem that shoots out from a relatively small plant at the base.  The flowers look like they are just floating from the pot.  It is categorized as a perennial, zone 5.  I am going to attempt to winter mine over, even though we are zone 4 because winters are warmer now.  I think if I plant it close to the house it might make it.  And if it does we will live happily ever after in a state of romance, me with stars in my eyes.

What romances you?

27 thoughts on “My New Love”

  1. Old fashioned tiger lilies. When I was little (60 years ago), my great grandfather was in his 90s and lived in his house in north Minneapolis. The front porch was surrounded by a dense forest of tiger lilies. I was enchanted.

    When I found a dozen tiger lily plants in the ditch along the road near our former lake cabin, That fall, I hiked to the patch with shovel and pail to dig up what I could. came home with a dozen. They flourished on the hillside next to the lake. There were about 2 dozen when I last saw them. I’m going to have to plant some at home now. Losing the tiger lilies was one of the greatest losses of selling the lake cabin.

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  4. Rise and Shine Baboons,

    I hope to be romanced by Ireland by tomorrow morning. I am still trying to complete a post about the trip, but it does not want to come together. Maybe it will by 2pm when I leave the house? I will post and check as I can.

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  5. I am presently infatuated by my class in botanical illustration. it’s specifically in the medium of colored pencil, which I’ve always liked anyway and I’m finding that the conventions of the art are particularly well suited to my inclinations or vice versa. Whereas most of the other art workshops I’ve engaged have emphasized speed and spontaneity, this one values patience and close observation.

    I’m also working on rebuilding an original edition of The Song of Hiawatha. It has a gift inscription from 1855 in the front. It was in several pieces when I got it, so anything I do is an improvement and I am amused to read portions as I sew it back together. It’s easy to see why it inspired so many parodies— not only because of the distinctive trochaic tetrameter but because of Longfellow’s relentless imposition of Native American words, faux or otherwise. It reads to jaded 21st century eyes like a parody of itself.

    Coincidentally, my botanical art class is held in the Longfellow house on the edge of Minnehaha Park.

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      1. I don’t do houseplants. They don’t survive. I do plants outside where if you lose a few, there’s usually enough other plants so it doesn’t make much difference. Winterkill is a different story, though. Despite it being a mild winter last winter, I lost many perennial herbs and flowers. Even the William Baffin Rose which I thought was unkillable.

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  8. Good and lovingly prepared food.

    This is pretty funny because right now I am a very utilitarian eater.

    Oh, another thing that “romances” me are well-crafted tools, many of which are no longer used today because of digital precision capacity.

    This summer I went with a small group from church to help pack up the remains of the household of two old saints who have severely downsized and have no children. I worked in the “study” and the desk had a treasure trove of old drafting tools, a fine caliper, and a brush for a drafting table. I can use some of these things, but not all. Still, I could not just chuck them in the box to go to Goodwill.

    I figure I will be their custodian until I find the person they are meant for. They are a tribute to a time when manual skill mattered, and I care about that.

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    1. Currently one of the pieces in the Art Gallary right across the hall from the theater is a collection of Polaroid photos of all the things found in ‘Grandma’s Desk’. It’s a fascinating collection of cards, clippings, pens, pins, flags, and all those things you would imagine you’d find in Grandma’s desk.

      Another display is an old black rotary telephone. But when you pick it up you hear messages from Grandma. They’re not sad by nature, but still, it is sad as you hear this ‘little old lady’ leaving messages because you’re not home. It’s kinda heartbreaking.
      My grandma called every night at 7:00. If no one was home and I answered the phone in the barn there would be a pause and then her little laugh and she’d say ‘Ben?’ it was so annoying; yes, Grandma, who do you think it would be if not my mom! Drove me crazy. Sorry Grandma.

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  9. The trouble I have walking through the nursery’s in the spring is how am I supposed to know what they’re going to look like when they flower?? Sometimes there’s pictures, yes, but otherwise, do I have to look at the little tag? At least until I learn what a particular flower looks like. Is that the secret to all this??
    I can’t do it; there are too many possibilities! It’s like the paint store samples; there’s too many blues!
    I tell Kelly, pick 5 and I’ll choose from there… don’t make me look at that entire wall!

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  10. I also have a soft spot for any well-made piece of furniture that has multiple storage levels, like a coffee table with some kind of space underneath for stuff. There may be a blog post about this in the future, so I’ll stop there for now.

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    1. Oh yes! There is a desk in the Smithsonian that has hiding places inside of hiding places. I believe the 18th and 19th century Europeans had a mania for such things in their efforts to copy all things “Oriental”.

      Convertible furniture is along the same lines of fascination.

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  11. OT, the furnace guy came. A coil in the furnace that comuunicates between the thermostat and the pilot light and tells the pilot light lto ignite the funace, was corroded and had to be replaced.

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      2. Everything I know about gas furnaces I learned in a little room at the old Rochester Repertory Theater. We have electric heat at home, but that place had 3 furnaces and the pilot light would always go off in one. It had a cracked plenum. (sure, that’s what it was).
        So I learned how to light the pilot and when it wouldn’t stay lit, I was taught to replace the thermocoupler. And now you know as much as I do about furnaces.
        Except for this joke. (It’s a little bit crude, but I’ll temper it): Thermocouplers come in different lengths. 24″, 30″, ect… I had gotten a 24″ one for the furnace. It was too short. Took it back to the hardware store and said to the clerk, ‘You sure that’s 24 inches?” and he held it out in front of his pants and said, “Yep”.

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