12 April 2010


I never thought I'd say this but I enjoy gardening. THERE! I SAID IT MUMMY, STOP GLOATING!
OR ELSE! What?
Ha, I thought so.

Well, that's what goes on whenever my mother get's all uber hyper when I show an...abnormal interest in her garden (read: I want to do more than just take photographs of the pretty flowers)
Right after the crocus start blooming, the skilla open up. They're one of the true blue flowers that grow in her front yard. Small but undeniably cute. Just like the johnny-jump ups you see on the right, they're a cousin of pansies just much, much smaller. >w< In the upper left corner you can see a few leaves of lambs ears (how appropriate that Easter recently past) and at the bottom near the brick you can see a teeny Japanese Maple seeding.
There's millions of even tiner ones with their cotyledons still one growing under our grand ole Japanese Maple. It's crazy, I've never seen that many before. When I exclaimed about them, my mother went "Well, you never came out of the house before"  Strictly that's not true since I did go outside...just not this early since it's usually cool in the spring. I still haven't shrugged off my sweaters and hoodies. Then again, I rarely took them off last year except for a few days in July and August. And maybe that day at the beach in June. And a couple of days when I was filing stuff like a madwoman in the hospital in June as well.
I digress.
Now I am spending a lot more time outside. I did some wild cutting with my mother's heavy duty wood cutters. I'm not sure how to describe them. I almost used her shears, but these had really long handles to increase the force. You know, levers and all. Ahhh physics, run away!

OH! It's called a lopper. Hehee, the name looks as funny as it literally looks. That bad boy cut down about eight feet of straggly, woody stems of my mother's humongous butterfly bushes.

Here's a shot of a butterfly bush bloom even though the great big bushes have only started putting out leaves last week. It's all weird, foreshortened, actually.

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