Heartsongs

My Polly left to go back to Indonesia this morning.  She was home for two weeks, not nearly enough time, but time with her is so special - I'll gladly take the minutes I get.  The first week she was here, my school was still in session.  As soon as I could get away, we left for my mother's summer house on Long Beach Island.  The three kids were there for most of the time and Tim joined us when we could.  When my kids were younger, I used to wait for that moment each evening when I could tell myself that everyone was home and settled in.  I would relax and sink into the comfort that, for this precious moment, all was well.  Thsoe few nights at the beach with my children all safely under one roof filled me with a joy so acute that it almost burned.  In the garden of my existence, they are the most exquisite and unique of blooms.  I have been many things in my life, but the one that will always define me is "mother."  Perhaps this is the reason gardening gives me such pleasure.  To nurture is a privilege, be it people or plants. 

SALT AND SIZZLE

We don't garden at the beach, although I would like to try it sometime.  Living right on the ocean as we do, we mostly cultivate the natural plants that anchor the dunes that we hope will protect our house from the ravages of the nor'easters that pound our shore every year.    My son, Bob, has become somewhat of a specialist in the placement and maintenance of dune fencing to encourage healthy growth and development of those essential mounds of sand.  He and Polly did a bit of "planting" of that variety last week.  That's their handiwork at the left.  They used fencing that a neighbor had pulled out to replace so that the new fence looked like it had been there for years.  Clever.
I hated to leave the beach and head back to Wilmington, especially since that meant it was time for Polly to depart, but string of hot, dry days at home had taken a toll on the garden.  Attention was required and quickly, so it was good that we were back.

MORNING GLORY MAYHEM

Once, gazillion years ago when I didn't know better, I planted some Morning Glory along the lattice that bordered our small deck on the back of the house.  The descendants of those first pretty blue vines have caused havoc in our gardens ever since.  They grow everywhere and require a twice daily patrol of vine plucking to even keep up with them.  We do bring this on ourselves, however, because by mid-summer we are only pulling out vines that threaten the vegetables or other plantings.  We throw in the towel when it comes to fence posts, the arbor and the compost pile.  By August we are in a riot of morning glory color in every shade of pink and blue ( and combinations thereof) imaginable.  The neighbors love them, but we just cringe inwardly, knowing that when it comes to Morning Glories at least, we are like bad parents who get worn down by their children's misbehavior and thrown up their hands and look the other way.  (They are pretty though, the little devils.)