My favorite month . . .

Dad teaching his baby how to take a bath

I don’t really have a favorite season.  I love spring for the new growth, fall for the feeling of preparation and “setting by” for later, summer for the heat and big changes in my landscape that I’ve been working toward all year, and winter for being able to relax.  But August is probably my favorite month, where I slow down and putts, for lack of a better word.  I’m still getting things done outside, but it’s tweaking, sort of like a line edit, where you just nibble at things you’ve been working on all year.  Filling in here, a splash of color there.  The ground is already prepped, so it’s easy.  This weekend was full of puttsing around, and I totally enjoyed it.

Kicking off my Sunday of puttsing was a trip to my favorite home improvement store where I got a trunk full of “promise plants,” as in “I know I’m ugly, but I promise I’ll grow.”  These are the heat-scorched uglies that forgot to be watered or the excess from too vigorous buying practices.  The remainders, perhaps.  (Why am I seeing everything relating to writing this morning?)  Nasty, but cheap at 75% off.  I could indulge in a little free-flow buying myself.  I have enough orchids, but how can I turn down the little darling when he was 75 cents?  Daises for a buck?  I’ll take five.

Actually, most of my plantings the last month have been from the sale cart.  I don’t mind if they’ve flowered already, and I plan to go back next week for the purple cone flowers that they have at full price right now.  If they’re on sale, I’ll get some.  If not, then that’s okay, too.  It’s the hunt, not the kill, where the satisfaction is.


Filed under Drama Box

20 responses to “My favorite month . . .

  1. I can picture you whispering to those sorry-looking plants in their stained and cracked pots, “Don’t worry. Ya’ll are comin’ home with me and jsut wait until you meet the rest of the family.”

    A thunderstorm marched through our neighborhood long about 8 o’clock last night, the claps moving closer with each flash until one cracked directly overhead, sending electricity ripping through the air, hair standing straight up and nerves a’shaking. I could hear the neighbors’ kids squealing over my own shrieks. It was invigorating.

    • That’s about it, Jeannie. 😉 But once they are here, they have to fight for survival, it seems. I’ve had a greater than usual die back of some rather large plants. Frustrating. . . .

      Wow, that sounds like a close one!

  2. Lovely pic. They look very content with their waterfall bath water.

    I am glad u save some plants as u save some pennies. What girl doesn’t like a good deal right! Perhaps someday I will have a green thumb and join ur rescues, but until then, I’ll keep my penny saving for my fashion sense.

    And as for me, my fav month is September. It reminds me of my great grandma, I celebrate an anniversary, and the trees turn so bright and colorful that I’m always in awe. The leaves are a beautiful sign of rebirth.

    Cheers to a good deal on the purple cones.

    • Ahhh, clothes. That’s my conundrum. I don’t buy a lot but when I do, I usually pay too much. I guess l like plant shopping more than clothes. -laugh-

      September. That’s a good month. I agree.

  3. jkh

    Are those robins part of the family who nested in your fuschia? Gads, don’t know how to spell that. Anyway, it’s a grrrreat snapshot.

    August in the Pacific Northwest is when we usually get some summer weather, and although we had the coldest, wettest, longest spring I can remember, summer is finally almost here. Still got the downies on the beds, though.

    • Hi JKH. No. Sorry. Two days after I took the last picture of them, one of the neighbor’s cat, which they allow to run loose all night, attacked them after dark, scaring off the parent on the nest and knocking the two babies and eggs onto the ground. Then the cat walked away, leaving everything to perish. I guess it’s all about the hunt for the cat, too. The birds never came back. I can’t say I blame them.

  4. First off that last line: “It’s the hunt, not the kill, where the satisfaction is.” Sounds more like something a vampire would say then you! 😛

    Also, I have a weakness for poor ugly things on the sale rack! Not plants tho, as they always die on me! :-S
    But, I have a weakness for stuffed animals, everytime i see one for anything under a $1 I have to buy it! 😛

    I wish i had your MAD gardening skills……maybe an outdoor garden might work for me better….maybe if im still here next yr (God no!!) I’ll make an outdoor garden??

    • Ahh, but there’s a vampire lurking inside my head, and an elf, and a witch. -laugh- You gotta think it before you write it, yes?

      Seriously, don’t start thinking that I am an expert gardener. I kill a lot of plants, especially this year, for some reason. I’m starting to wonder if the new compost I brought in was fully mature, or if it is robbing the plants of nitrogen. Grrrr.

  5. I am a sucker for sad plants and buy most of my perennials on clearance. I like being surprised the next year by what I get!

  6. Maryellen

    And under your tutelage, Miss Kim, no doubt they’ll grow big and strong and take over half the state of Michigan. 🙂

  7. Amy

    That picture made me smile. There is nothing like watching the parenting skills of animals. Every year we see it in the back yard with the baby birds screaming at their parents for food when the babies are almost as big as the parents. Two years ago a mama squirrel brought her two babies into the back yard. She showed them where the fountain was for water. She showed them where the peanuts were that we put out every morning. She showed them where the sunflower seeds can be found mixed in with the bird seed. It was absolutely adorable, especially when one of the baby squirrels tried to jump and missed and ended up hanging on the handle of the lawn mower, swinging back and forth with a look on its face of “Oh, how the heck do I get down now?”
    The cycle of life, with all its wonders is there if you take the time to notice it. The squirrels were dubbed Hocus and Pocus and we enjoyed their play until they grew to the point we couldn’t distinguish them from the others.

    I see those poor half dead plants on the sale shelf at times, now I know who buys them. I’m glad someone does and gives them a chance at life. It isn’t their fault someone else didn’t remember to water them.

  8. Hi Kim… i havent posted in a while but well… I love the pic and have been reading your posts EVERY day you post them… That pic is especially cheering right now since a couple days ago i was walking the dog of a friend who was on vacation and i found a dead baby bird on the ground that was at the point of JUST barely starting to grow feathers along the edges of its wings and tail and barely starting along its back.. it was SO incredibly sad.

    Oh and on a happier not i just recently finished your Truth series … I’d been trying to make it last as long as i possibly could, and have you ANY idea how thrilling it was to be able to have the first time reading the second two books be reading the SIGNED copies i got from here a few months ago? I felt SO privileged.

    • Oh, I’m so sorry about finding the bird, Donna. That can be so sad.

      But I am glad you liked the Truth books! Thank you so much! There are times when I’d like to immerse myself back into that world. It was innocence and exploration, and I kind of miss that.

  9. James R. Fox

    Hi Ms Kim it’s Jim from Warren. Boy that sounds like vampirespeak. Ivy to Rachel,after breaking various villian’s bones (Slow solomn voice here) Ït’s the hunt,not the kill,where the satisfaction Is.” Sorry,my subconscious typed that before my forebrain could whack it upside the head.

  10. Howdy ma’am,

    Sounds like you’re the rescue woman for lonely unwanted plants. 🙂

    We had a very big, non damaging thunderstorm last night. I loved it. The power flickered but stayed on.


    • Some days, Vampy, that’s exactly how I feel, but others, I wonder if they might be better off with a clean death of the compost pile than a slow lingering one in my back yard.