The White Wooden Duck

From March to September, he sits on the front porch, his long, white neck extended gracefully as he looks at the trees in the front yard and the flowers in bloom. Butterflies flit, bees buzz, and birds dart to and fro. Cars drive by, some slowing down ever so slightly. "Are you looking at me?" A rhetorical question? Maybe, maybe not. After all, white wooden ducks are nothing new.

Before long, he will be removed from his concrete stoop and placed in a dark, slightly damp storage closet with the rest of the Spring and Summer decorations, but do not fear! He will return again when the weather is warm, the flowers commence to blossom, and the cars drive lazily down the street.

Expectations

While working outside over the past few months, I've noticed a multiplicity of butterflies, bees, hummingbirds, and dragonflies lingering in my garden, flowerbeds, and surrounding areas.

At the risk of sounding boastful, I'd like to think all of my planting has prompted their temporary visitations. And as summer draws to a close, I anticipate an even bigger turnout next year.

Sour Beans

My father-in-law canned green beans last Friday. The next morning, we noticed standing water on the counter-top and after a short investigation, traced the puddle back to a jar of beans that had not sealed properly. When turned on its side, air bubbles drifted to the top of the jar, and after opening the lid, one quick sniff confirmed the beans had soured. Fortunately, the remainder of what he canned was fine.

Now, my father-in-law has been gardening and canning for years. Even the most experienced gardener, however, loses a jar of beans now and then. The trick is to keep it all in perspective. In other words, don't let a few sour beans ruin your day!

On The Other Hand

Saturday, August 13th, was National Left Handers Day, and although I did not garner any Hallmark cards or expensive gifts in honor of my dominant hand, I did receive an inspiring text message from one of my best friends encouraging me to enjoy my day.

I've been left-handed all of my life, with the exception of my first few days of kindergarten when, in an effort to start me out on the "right foot" (pun intended), the teacher thought it would be a good idea to restrain my left hand and make me use the right one for all in-class activities. Long story short, I'm still writing upside down, and oftentimes with a slight slant. 

The August - September Flower Project

Over the next month and a half, I'll be pulling weeds, prepping soil, and planting seeds and bulbs that will bloom next year. Then, in the spring, after the last frost, I'll sow more flower seeds and bulbs in the same locations. My target spaces? Areas around the back porch, outbuildings, and property boundaries. My goal? Vigorous flower growth that will start earlier in the year. Thus begins my August - September flower project!

Contagious Gardening

Recently, a local city gardener was featured on a PBS show I like to watch. As she chatted with the interviewer regarding the variety of flowers and plants she cultivates in different areas of town, she identified several businesses that have made positive changes to their landscapes over the past couple of years. She also stated some residential areas have begun to spruce up their outside spaces. 

The takeaway for me? Gardening promotes a trickle-down effect. One person works to improve the scenery, change the aesthetic in their neck of the woods, and before long, people start to take notice and follow suit. Thus, gardening creates a sense of community that is contagious!

Making Molasses

When I was a kid, my Dad raised a big garden. In addition to the typical fruits and vegetables most gardeners plant, he also grew a few other odds and ends that most of the neighbors were not familiar with. In particular, I remember his sugarcane plants. Similar in appearance to bamboo, these svelte plants towered over me and my sister as we ran around the garden and played. Oftentimes, to keep us busy and out of his way (and to agitate my Mom), my Dad would give us several small sections of a sweet stalk to chew on.

Once the sugarcane was ready to harvest, my Dad and my uncle set about making molasses, using a contraption that was a combination of an old wringer washing machine, a cylinder, and other stuff. They would run the sugarcane stalks through the wringer, flattening them out as they extracted the juice. Next, the sugary liquid was funneled through a pipe into a big, metal container, kept red-hot by an open fire that was constantly surrounded by humming bees. Finally, it was cooked and stirred until it reached the desired consistency, i.e. molasses.

Although my description of the molasses-making process is rudimentary at best, as a child hyped up on sugar, the operation was fascinating to watch. And the idea that my Dad could do something the other dads could not made me a proud daughter indeed.