Exploring the Chianti countryside

Another stop on our tour of the Chianti region was at the terra cotta workshop of Sergio Ricceri.

Sergia Ricceri throwing a pot.

Here we learned about the high quality of clay in this region, which produces superior terra cotta pots and decorative items. I was attracted to the planters decorated with lemons and also the roosters.

Sergio’s works are available directly from him (and several people in my group ordered pieces which he shipped–and they arrived perfectly intact).

These three pictures are from Sergio’s website; the painted pieces are hand-painted.

Picture from Sergio’s website.

As we left Sergio’s workshop, the sun was setting, and everywhere we looked, the sky was vibrant pink.

Critters in my garden

Yanking some of the Golden Alexander in my garden (which is technically not invasive, but does spread and needs some aggressive yanking to control it), I happened upon this little critter enjoying one of the leaves. I was happy for the help in keeping the plant under control.

Dahlias

One vendor at the Saugatuck Farmer’s Market offered dahlia tubers, and I bought two. One bloomed this week.

Black-eyed Susans

My late-blooming Black-eyed Susans (Rudbekia), which grow along my front porch, have bloomed. I will be dividing these next spring as they need more room to grow.

Lots of flowers and many buds yet to bloom

Some pics from my garden

Black-eyed Susans (Rudbekia) were a friend’s favorite and I imagine he would love this early-blooming variety.

Early-blooming black-eyes Susans (Rudbekia)

My enclosed sunporch had to come down, which required moving one of my perenniel beds. The daisies got spread out along a side fence and seem quite content.

Daisies along the side fence

The purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) that got moved are late in blooming, but this one took up residence among the black-eyed Susans a few years ago (and I forgot to move it–next year).

Purple coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) among the black-eyes Susans

This phlox had been dwarfed by the daisies when it was next to the sunporch. I hope it will thrive in this new spot with room to grow.

Swamp milkweed (Asclepias Incarnata) is one of the butterfly attractors in my yard.

Swamp milkweed

Thinking of Krakow

A blogger I follow does a Thursday Door post, and I decided to post some of my door pictures. In looking through photos for some of my door pictures, I came across these pics from a trip to Krakow, Poland. The city offers beauty at every turn. (When I find my door pictures, I will post them).

Garden in Krakow

Flowers decorate Krakow buildings

One of many decorated pianos honoring Chopin.

A flower shop in Krakow

Wawel Castle in Krakow

Spring

Snow melts and reveals

what was hidden below ground.

Daffodils sprout up.

Silver linings

Someone recently asked me: What silver linings have you seen during the pandemic?

As a person who believes every curse has a blessing, I have been actively looking for silver linings since this time of social distancing began more than three months ago. Some of the blessings I have seen are:

I have had more time for hobbies, and I have read more books, completed more jigsaw puzzles and knitted more than I usually would. I have already knitted two gifts for next Christmas, which is not at all like me—I am usually knitting frantically the week before Christmas (or giving a certificate for a promised knitted article to arrive sometime after Christmas).

I have exercised more than I usually would. I am a morning exerciser and have still be going for my morning walk, but I think that staying in the house all day can make me feel cooped up, so I often go for an evening walk or bike ride.

Ten years ago, I went on a two-week language immersion course in Krakow, Poland. I had worked through the first part of Rosetta Stone Polish before that trip, and I have taken a couple of Polish classes since, but this time of isolation has given me the space to focus on my Polish. Almost every day, I spend time on Rosetta Stone, and most evenings, I practice what I have learned with my mother, whose first language was Polish. She says I am “coming along.”

My garden has gotten more attention this year because I usually go away in spring—on retreat or a vacation—but this year I have been home. I have also enjoyed my garden more this year because I spend lots of time in my sunroom, looking out over the yard. My sunroom doubles as my home office, another gift of this time. I miss seeing my co-workers in person, but even after we return to work, I may hold the occasional staff meeting in my home office/sunroom.

The other day I was reflecting on how these months at home have given me the space to explore new things. I find I am more open to consider different ways of doing everyday things. One of those is my charitable giving. I receive a fair number of requests from nonprofit organizations, and usually I toss the ones I don’t already support. But over the past few months, I have had the time to look at what comes in the mail. As a result, I have sent contributions to two organizations for the first time, even though they have probably been asking me for years.

These past few months felt like a long pause, and I have taken this opportunity to step back and look at my life. Having this extended period to review and reflect has been a gift, and I hope the lessons stay with me when we re-engage.

How about you? What silver linings have you seen during the pandemic?

Sunflowers

Sunflower seedlings were to

grow five feet tall

along the back of my garden.

Seeds planted indoors in early spring and

carefully transplanted when the ground warmed,

took root and

grew stronger and taller every day.

And then my dog died.

She, who was part terrier and

very good at patrolling the perimeter of our yard,

keeping at bay any animals who might think of

taking up residence or even stopping by for a visit.

She, who chased away every squirrel, cat, rabbit and bird.

She, who barked at the occasional opossum.

In the days after her death,

squirrels were the first to take tentative steps across the lawn.

They were soon joined by birds digging for worms, and

then a baby rabbit appeared.

Every morning, she peeked out from under the salvia,

nibbling on the dried grass attached to overturned clods of dirt.

And then, sitting on her haunches,

she nibbled the leaves of my young sunflowers.

How well she looks after herself,

finding what she needs to be nourished,

showing me the way.

Getting ready

The afternoon sun warms the air.

Forsythia and daffodils are blooming.

My neighbor works in his yard,

preparing the ground for his garden.

I cut back dead leaves in my flower beds and

pitchfork my compost pile.

It is too early to plant, but we can get ready.

This time of isolation is a pause.

Seeing no one, going nowhere, and yet

the invitation lies open before me—

cut back what is dead, clear out debris, turn the soil over.

Get ready to start again.

Summer will come.