tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-273858622024-03-19T06:55:37.609-06:00High Altitude Gardening{growing an impossible garden at 7,000 feet}Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.comBlogger1214125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-70925646170907263852024-02-26T11:53:00.014-07:002024-02-27T08:36:30.150-07:00Winter Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUfe7GNEOihisEGG8wlBrWtrsHoQTlg3Txj0ZBowlzYvwDb3-hTtQZ6bNsh_BDSgN9v8Da-AsrXLaJbV8EcIa4V-AN5q-ZtJghJ1xpP-7bjAINVwRdXjhLTJ0XD4-YQLl26vOeEq5ZlWX3Ut04JDbkvyIDe7fvSDIlKbVKe2h4UScCAODfMMk/s800/kitchen.window.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPUfe7GNEOihisEGG8wlBrWtrsHoQTlg3Txj0ZBowlzYvwDb3-hTtQZ6bNsh_BDSgN9v8Da-AsrXLaJbV8EcIa4V-AN5q-ZtJghJ1xpP-7bjAINVwRdXjhLTJ0XD4-YQLl26vOeEq5ZlWX3Ut04JDbkvyIDe7fvSDIlKbVKe2h4UScCAODfMMk/s16000/kitchen.window.1.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>It's a jungle in here. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8seLWE2R2Wf3jVUHRA-IsJIHbW-PJ9FFoyftsi5emFZNQX433E3tBeu3J0aTF8UAAAKwQC7gLPwUbYTAnic-nCWcViFxKqW1ujcvs8LsYePYAdu5yShGJcVHC_vnZEUFw34CIliFesJVznIYXuWY7AEG28MbP_S97nxuG6-ncQzMLKO6Q6sj/s882/kangaroo.paw.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="882" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX8seLWE2R2Wf3jVUHRA-IsJIHbW-PJ9FFoyftsi5emFZNQX433E3tBeu3J0aTF8UAAAKwQC7gLPwUbYTAnic-nCWcViFxKqW1ujcvs8LsYePYAdu5yShGJcVHC_vnZEUFw34CIliFesJVznIYXuWY7AEG28MbP_S97nxuG6-ncQzMLKO6Q6sj/s16000/kangaroo.paw.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kangaroo Paw</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Every sunny window is happily hosting a variety of flowering bulbs and perennials. </p><p>Do you plant outdoor flowering bulbs indoors? I found it's my saving grace during the long dark of a cold dreary winter.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKS4pZLbz9b5nvwvTXTKPd_-24v3kk96utMG6LRm8I-_QwhRpn6AZ0EltoO_NHFIuGHS59Opj2qU-H2ZEJUlKWAihJGYgejLb235Zx13Hs-U0HyS53llX8jfUgOCB1OWIppDGluPvtd2l47qPPPGLFgsDbOa_8FwPgG89t3eXynJLv1vZV_QV/s1067/amar.1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEKS4pZLbz9b5nvwvTXTKPd_-24v3kk96utMG6LRm8I-_QwhRpn6AZ0EltoO_NHFIuGHS59Opj2qU-H2ZEJUlKWAihJGYgejLb235Zx13Hs-U0HyS53llX8jfUgOCB1OWIppDGluPvtd2l47qPPPGLFgsDbOa_8FwPgG89t3eXynJLv1vZV_QV/s16000/amar.1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Temptation Amaryllis</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Managed to photograph these on a bluebird day. But that's been very rare this winter. Lots of wind and dark grey skies.</p><p>Which definitely messes with the mood.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uPWc2SeuxM1u6gB0qtbdEbtDJ9bFhFBYOfHqBzMK3DOAf1l6YKUZGIrfKMzqBIdBaLip5OUun9DuyRp0lDInlKRTgpix7DJ3pHx2asveJxQdoSTnwC4uZDyPDDTCurVnLRLev6vImKkklCHgq1g8nOtjNS9ByRAkJtqPKv8PqEh_CYWfNzbm/s1066/view.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_uPWc2SeuxM1u6gB0qtbdEbtDJ9bFhFBYOfHqBzMK3DOAf1l6YKUZGIrfKMzqBIdBaLip5OUun9DuyRp0lDInlKRTgpix7DJ3pHx2asveJxQdoSTnwC4uZDyPDDTCurVnLRLev6vImKkklCHgq1g8nOtjNS9ByRAkJtqPKv8PqEh_CYWfNzbm/s16000/view.jpg" /></a></div><p>If I'm not looking at my flowers.. I'm looking out my window at this. Which clearly indicates we won't be playing in the mud any time soon.</p><p>* In case you're wondering, that's the Olympic Ski Jump across the meadow. They must be having a competition, I rarely see it lit up like this.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidn7DADcb0APmxXTmew_iQ2cqOkuaWGz0so7O1nPnt61oeiwLsmB1HSCygKh9DzyvJS38kLFlAGYIjUnrALEi9ob6pOuNd2s3A0Dsw9cKaA9jrKC1TrEUDLWvfaLWmKP5jK2C36DYBpSKC-kU7yviL6PRuPLBAat0Q7mUjso-hO2Kh9szJdFWW/s1067/window.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidn7DADcb0APmxXTmew_iQ2cqOkuaWGz0so7O1nPnt61oeiwLsmB1HSCygKh9DzyvJS38kLFlAGYIjUnrALEi9ob6pOuNd2s3A0Dsw9cKaA9jrKC1TrEUDLWvfaLWmKP5jK2C36DYBpSKC-kU7yviL6PRuPLBAat0Q7mUjso-hO2Kh9szJdFWW/s16000/window.1.jpg" /></a></div><p>Above - Primula Denticulata - shade lover - perfect for indoor winter gardens. 👆</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdy5fBP1h1S5lWODb_gtXw7FzRRQzXPPfm-pOx2knNhgPXlZgKcwqDbhJcVoLsMpYnkmWQDlaT0-sdl9lZWct02WunmTKrUl_aMUJuZkm8e5gDJqjz8Hi4no6GmKlrcnLlWwGh_Gao17aRaXlWt34ch9uq6fsglK6dOhduD6Wg2hi7KNPnqv95/s800/freckle.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="773" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdy5fBP1h1S5lWODb_gtXw7FzRRQzXPPfm-pOx2knNhgPXlZgKcwqDbhJcVoLsMpYnkmWQDlaT0-sdl9lZWct02WunmTKrUl_aMUJuZkm8e5gDJqjz8Hi4no6GmKlrcnLlWwGh_Gao17aRaXlWt34ch9uq6fsglK6dOhduD6Wg2hi7KNPnqv95/s16000/freckle.jpg" /></a></div><p>The Freckle Face plant 👆 - also a shade lover. Displays no flowers, just foliage - she sits on my nightstand, seems perfectly happy (has doubled in size) with light from my bedside lamp. * Keep moist. *</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFhPDSiMPoVAqVqvvPZ-l5tVDa6nEE5MEyZ5zy_iP9z0JXXToSEbJwkgLxQGielUWZBYTx86LG05MRbedtZID9LRboJWk1gg3sDS8lPhsd2fdUloSTl4J8vwbkK6-5N-Ktq9RERQDTJZR3w7pfx1niNaESRUqn7KJ2nVD7UTvZRTLvNOTwukP/s909/iris.1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="909" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFhPDSiMPoVAqVqvvPZ-l5tVDa6nEE5MEyZ5zy_iP9z0JXXToSEbJwkgLxQGielUWZBYTx86LG05MRbedtZID9LRboJWk1gg3sDS8lPhsd2fdUloSTl4J8vwbkK6-5N-Ktq9RERQDTJZR3w7pfx1niNaESRUqn7KJ2nVD7UTvZRTLvNOTwukP/s16000/iris.1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tiny Iris, about the size of my thumb.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I went a little overboard this year. A preemptive strike against the winter blues.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJqEKkacjXrQTX6SA9Re6DsTXc8gtH8pMfWR7oZFyGhJ4oKjmMxnxqhTd70xNoyZts9USxExrt1EBvaw-en25js6wF-GYs8mCEGMoKptnvBlLwXQa1_FoMYQdsZCLuZBMVQ7SME_ofCT_SaVdiB55O3poCBXgR7tLWmIc8ik7EJRPrm9MEJ3-/s1064/h-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAJqEKkacjXrQTX6SA9Re6DsTXc8gtH8pMfWR7oZFyGhJ4oKjmMxnxqhTd70xNoyZts9USxExrt1EBvaw-en25js6wF-GYs8mCEGMoKptnvBlLwXQa1_FoMYQdsZCLuZBMVQ7SME_ofCT_SaVdiB55O3poCBXgR7tLWmIc8ik7EJRPrm9MEJ3-/s16000/h-2.jpg" /></a></div><p>And it works! See? </p><p>You barely notice we're in the midst of another blizzard when you have fragrant Hyacinth blocking the view!</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWnUKLurzXlCmyIBs7_XM_GFbmX5Bp40uOKhi37L009EzWAeaA-1xScLLp1i3InEvuH7am31oQ_V1WIOPQ5u0JwGbp6eK75ryO1x8WrcNfDJzIymHYE-duRibBToO7Y0Ew50TSgUOXQbaDULGuB5l6ZDw5t2gvzKAMoehpo5oHYNeQ6Tk2K9l/s1067/science.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUWnUKLurzXlCmyIBs7_XM_GFbmX5Bp40uOKhi37L009EzWAeaA-1xScLLp1i3InEvuH7am31oQ_V1WIOPQ5u0JwGbp6eK75ryO1x8WrcNfDJzIymHYE-duRibBToO7Y0Ew50TSgUOXQbaDULGuB5l6ZDw5t2gvzKAMoehpo5oHYNeQ6Tk2K9l/s16000/science.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Science Experiments</td></tr></tbody></table><p><i>Why do you have so many flowers??</i> Asks my darling granddaughter.</p><p>Color, fragrance, in a stark white winter world. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RadY24939vFf8N9eTYh8kuTQl8B7F84NxLtLjrNEDWBmSMoeQAVrAPL3MSDmIOYovxJcOQe3uMo_E8GHD_K1bq-UmUO59QYoCIfqsLoDj4hhng9JcXJ89sLivJHILzpL9JVk4LBm53gNnQ2EU-2eAbFtahTTiSByK2gV0npdAC3VmkQ5AtwK/s961/orchid-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="961" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7RadY24939vFf8N9eTYh8kuTQl8B7F84NxLtLjrNEDWBmSMoeQAVrAPL3MSDmIOYovxJcOQe3uMo_E8GHD_K1bq-UmUO59QYoCIfqsLoDj4hhng9JcXJ89sLivJHILzpL9JVk4LBm53gNnQ2EU-2eAbFtahTTiSByK2gV0npdAC3VmkQ5AtwK/s16000/orchid-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Re-blooming Orchid (I'm as surprised as you are :)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>The thrill of success when they bloom. The sobering acknowledgement of defeat when they don't.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTiXQ5rBsh_hwDC-Il5OGGMeHXGvYmP0aws9Y-SEaMHNC7pNn4LG4crClnbNVEBB1lBX3BZikwHnWwQ9PMkOcOpZeuz8O2vz1lupiuNeHjj3I2Q3Ff64OUC4IgrmzPYhGMlQ0_mOGdRbrslSAOL8GSzFCJFXkrEmRFHxGrstjJB-Zm7gg6Rly/s800/bulb.packets.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPTiXQ5rBsh_hwDC-Il5OGGMeHXGvYmP0aws9Y-SEaMHNC7pNn4LG4crClnbNVEBB1lBX3BZikwHnWwQ9PMkOcOpZeuz8O2vz1lupiuNeHjj3I2Q3Ff64OUC4IgrmzPYhGMlQ0_mOGdRbrslSAOL8GSzFCJFXkrEmRFHxGrstjJB-Zm7gg6Rly/s16000/bulb.packets.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>WINTER GARDENS:</p><p>I'm sure you've seen aisles of these bulb packets, on sale, typically 50% off at the end of November. </p><p></p><ol style="text-align: left;"><li>Grab some!</li><li>Store Daffodil, Tulip, Hyacinth, etc. bulbs, in the bags, as you purchased them.</li><li>Store in your refrigerator, the produce drawer is a good spot. </li><li>Bring them out after about 6 weeks of forced cold temperatures. </li><li>Grow in water, or plant in soil.</li><li>Set on a sunny windowsill and wait for them to work their magic.</li></ol><p></p><p>Once warm, bulbs are anxious to grow. You'll be surprised how quickly your windowsills are adorned with bright color. </p><p>* Do <b><u>not</u></b> store apples in the refrigerator with your bulbs. Apples emit ethylene gas which messes with bulbs. It's particularly hard on Tulips. <i>Which is why I only have one Tulip</i>. Because I forgot. :))</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgf0hKQDdqFVlg3r4FthCDZIkfkLO6MhgwhYP3y8S2Us7Vri7W2dgV7hkH_kBcIWf7p9d-PoWIkTuPBgFAqta9-XTkowi1wZDVRGZ23qI3RIwA6ICvDYyq94HnAeOatAUTNNbPnB9P45y841XJADXXEM7g4OwSVEac-OCi9Y4vArIgS4VFn0TM/s800/t-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="728" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgf0hKQDdqFVlg3r4FthCDZIkfkLO6MhgwhYP3y8S2Us7Vri7W2dgV7hkH_kBcIWf7p9d-PoWIkTuPBgFAqta9-XTkowi1wZDVRGZ23qI3RIwA6ICvDYyq94HnAeOatAUTNNbPnB9P45y841XJADXXEM7g4OwSVEac-OCi9Y4vArIgS4VFn0TM/s16000/t-1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-53134725880352752412024-01-23T11:52:00.007-07:002024-01-24T09:28:09.229-07:00Horse Life and Homemade Horse Cookies<div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe3mS_eRu0U6u2SxVXdCvt-opDoCsW3yRrt-s5_YPmyMp1g2uLEt-n5M6HL0OqGt3VuQIXVsYpn1EZOESpitCXMR4MAtCuwXIgNoQfHONxU4-LKWSV7njyPuYI3BoImSIyUwdtjZnvnf0e8n053sIjSzM3THbz2TDxWZ4S8MOXHcQDtiiYIlH/s800/sunlight.basin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEe3mS_eRu0U6u2SxVXdCvt-opDoCsW3yRrt-s5_YPmyMp1g2uLEt-n5M6HL0OqGt3VuQIXVsYpn1EZOESpitCXMR4MAtCuwXIgNoQfHONxU4-LKWSV7njyPuYI3BoImSIyUwdtjZnvnf0e8n053sIjSzM3THbz2TDxWZ4S8MOXHcQDtiiYIlH/s16000/sunlight.basin.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a painting of Sable, and I, in Sunlight Basin. (We were featured in a magazine, inspiring a friend to paint this.) We rode down that mountain, shown in the background of this painting. And that's why people thought it was a pretty big deal. Sable's head is cocked at an angle because she's waiting for her cookie.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span>There's this meme going around on social media. Asking: <i>What do you have, now, that you didn't have as a child?</i> </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span>It's implying that adult life isn't all it's cracked up to be. You have everything now that you had as a child, back then your parents paid the bills. Therefore life was easier way back when.</span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYIEFtkzwOsf1NaZYs4p2csIZelmaakYwndmaLNnw_AKj5Bn-G7UX-oQ_N45DJwWJnXhozWJByo2tw65WwdgYqkAPyWn6QrV4gs661S7tvYBTKxgg7uJX5PCwiK4wHJGZTjyQSxR4GtSUj6vXQaFTE6k24TFJfyjBVQGjqVnkVrfn7JETdWFI/s901/sable.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuYIEFtkzwOsf1NaZYs4p2csIZelmaakYwndmaLNnw_AKj5Bn-G7UX-oQ_N45DJwWJnXhozWJByo2tw65WwdgYqkAPyWn6QrV4gs661S7tvYBTKxgg7uJX5PCwiK4wHJGZTjyQSxR4GtSUj6vXQaFTE6k24TFJfyjBVQGjqVnkVrfn7JETdWFI/s16000/sable.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a better photo of my partner in crime, Sweet Sable.<br />* Note that she is not tied up. She is free to run wherever she pleases. <br />She prefers to hang with me. (It's because of the cookies.)</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div><i>What do you have, now, that you didn't have as a child? </i></div><div><br /></div><div>A PONY!!! I responded. Took me 20 years!!! Best midlife crisis. EVER!</div><span><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zu1cibtWTjjS38kecouOEb2_UXN8dR73ojvqM4XelVKRtYeP2YZy5ie0QtMJGSbTlMIZhjnJy8cfHBwE3lrZ3_hLfWGFm8qKLyiPL7Xp7yuP1sXB60Zr7JmrwN0DHO0MqkaYg4JRAIg9AnUi2jZQiMB8QGBUhM1z_23CB26pDT0tAv787PAR/s800/horse.camping.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5zu1cibtWTjjS38kecouOEb2_UXN8dR73ojvqM4XelVKRtYeP2YZy5ie0QtMJGSbTlMIZhjnJy8cfHBwE3lrZ3_hLfWGFm8qKLyiPL7Xp7yuP1sXB60Zr7JmrwN0DHO0MqkaYg4JRAIg9AnUi2jZQiMB8QGBUhM1z_23CB26pDT0tAv787PAR/s16000/horse.camping.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sable and I have traveled far and wide together. <br />My turquoise camper provided a soft bed after a long backcountry ride.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: normal;">I was "That Girl." The one who started begging for a pony when she was 4 years old. I was still begging for a pony in my 40's. And that's when I decided to grow up and buy my own.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76TypPdnE9mOjUCKebIJrDxCaL-lw1OCUg6JJHnZjxmvPHzcb1hxVZGyt3FKvXBYFb8e-MXTWFkS9_ed2J7tbt4rUNwoTl9-3ftFRbGrAEQ3jzfr7QVGAgeFmyiUY2pXyjB4xXQ72pdGrPm8FfK8_fXh9yU1mAS5614SoYsLW243xfKvF5HuC/s800/monument.valley.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="263" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh76TypPdnE9mOjUCKebIJrDxCaL-lw1OCUg6JJHnZjxmvPHzcb1hxVZGyt3FKvXBYFb8e-MXTWFkS9_ed2J7tbt4rUNwoTl9-3ftFRbGrAEQ3jzfr7QVGAgeFmyiUY2pXyjB4xXQ72pdGrPm8FfK8_fXh9yU1mAS5614SoYsLW243xfKvF5HuC/s16000/monument.valley.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me in the middle. Monument Valley.<br />When we hired a Native American guide to helps us navigate the backcountry.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLLZtpEV9o0qAmIn7J7CHKNGG6PRcAhv1wCEA1UbVX1fwazBr5f_lQDEwG8DtBJhgp0q7molQ6AnQ_U-ozOwIRp9uUOdPMStIWj7IJSZvDt-zu3IXnjLLhKNlCMAyL-rbC_MaL2HNVB34hG_Jx6HnI0LCpqJgGkraBBNFBJTjBR8OmHuasriG/s800/pointreyes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="359" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWLLZtpEV9o0qAmIn7J7CHKNGG6PRcAhv1wCEA1UbVX1fwazBr5f_lQDEwG8DtBJhgp0q7molQ6AnQ_U-ozOwIRp9uUOdPMStIWj7IJSZvDt-zu3IXnjLLhKNlCMAyL-rbC_MaL2HNVB34hG_Jx6HnI0LCpqJgGkraBBNFBJTjBR8OmHuasriG/s16000/pointreyes.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Point Reyes National Seashore</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3AVTbvfrtgOszXDqGymAJUo791aT55usG-r8s4gGcqwHB3ka5DKvWNOtjvBelOIMHqp4xsbThRvvA2ED4BpoV_8ezVEil9i9BSrFhZpEYu9VhZurYtZk1rUQxpIscGdqa7UC2ywTSv8YXt1yX1hU-YfR_dyW5277qDucpkWSaYPHbnOdgI20E/s800/horses.iceland.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3AVTbvfrtgOszXDqGymAJUo791aT55usG-r8s4gGcqwHB3ka5DKvWNOtjvBelOIMHqp4xsbThRvvA2ED4BpoV_8ezVEil9i9BSrFhZpEYu9VhZurYtZk1rUQxpIscGdqa7UC2ywTSv8YXt1yX1hU-YfR_dyW5277qDucpkWSaYPHbnOdgI20E/s16000/horses.iceland.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here we are in Iceland. Sable doesn't fit on a plane. Well, she could, but who can afford that plane ticket?? We did this adventure on rental horses.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: normal;">We've ridden in lots of wonderful places, </span><i><u>all in the middle of nowhere</u></i><span style="font-style: normal;">. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="font-style: normal;">And this is where the great debate begins. Because most horse owners throw a fit about giving their horses treats. I figure the horse is working much harder than I am, she deserves a wee bit of appreciation.</span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSC9AOUDqSwiFeO0g8NlHNrVtfSV2t2ErbGYWWLRWaizHRR7cgXqx5BP3CyRkza8Ux3r7q5iA4WUGLP-GBHafqzBbNiUuontl-gBpr8S5jA68Ci646JQxlKld7TOk3uxMPmBxZgxY6jIChRujf-hFhfyh0KiV4MXazsfrfO2On_l4eGLi9wsP/s800/appaloosa.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdSC9AOUDqSwiFeO0g8NlHNrVtfSV2t2ErbGYWWLRWaizHRR7cgXqx5BP3CyRkza8Ux3r7q5iA4WUGLP-GBHafqzBbNiUuontl-gBpr8S5jA68Ci646JQxlKld7TOk3uxMPmBxZgxY6jIChRujf-hFhfyh0KiV4MXazsfrfO2On_l4eGLi9wsP/s16000/appaloosa.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's Sable, facing the camera.<br />* I don't know why people say that my riding buddy and I have look alike horses. Sable is clearly much prettier.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></span></div><div><span>My riding buddy is one of those women who thinks it's a bad idea to give her horse a treat. So here's the story I like to tell, to defend my point of view. </span></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><blockquote>We were in the middle of nowhere, high in the mountains. Sitting on a rock, eating our lunch. When a freak storm hit. High winds. Lightening and thunder. <b>Both horses bolted</b>. And there we were. Stuck walking 12 miles back to our truck and horse trailer. In the rain. In bear and cougar country. As we were walking through the tall trees, we heard a terrible crash. Something running toward us. <i>Oh my gods, I'll bet it's a bear</i>. But it wasn't a bear. It was my cookie-loving horse Sable who came back to find me. She gave us both a ride the 12 miles back to the trailer. Where the horse who never gets a cookie, was casually grazing, waiting on our return.</blockquote><p>* Horses aren't like dogs. She had no interest in saving me. She was basically just hoping she could eat another one of these: </p><p><span style="font-weight: bold;">Oat & Molasses Horse Cookies</span></p></span></div></span>
<ul>
<li>2 cups grated carrot</li>
<li>2 cups apple sauce</li>
<li>4 tablespoons corn oil</li>
<li>1/2 cup molasses</li>
<li>2 teaspoons salt</li>
<li>2 cups rolled oats</li>
<li>2 cups flour</li>
</ul>
<span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />Easy Prep:</span><br />
Stir together carrots, apples, oil, and molasses.<br />
Mix in salt, oats, and flour.<br />
Spread onto a cookie sheet and bake @ 350 degrees for about 20 minutes.<br />
<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBKUYuYN4PMoPv4hji4VzrOOJ1yl3ieyLnWc6Ac5rPX5Prfpf5QYQggLt2kXjq4SLidq9CHr3fKcD0tgu3N_QM_anWE3Ndt13INXbPieFXWEoGNx_ky07dtKH_wxOvGr5kzyadZR6an7sYBOf1WSX7vvGrGe5MepCDVYj2jOh2j6GvzzY6YVq/s869/horse.cookies.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="869" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUBKUYuYN4PMoPv4hji4VzrOOJ1yl3ieyLnWc6Ac5rPX5Prfpf5QYQggLt2kXjq4SLidq9CHr3fKcD0tgu3N_QM_anWE3Ndt13INXbPieFXWEoGNx_ky07dtKH_wxOvGr5kzyadZR6an7sYBOf1WSX7vvGrGe5MepCDVYj2jOh2j6GvzzY6YVq/w369-h400/horse.cookies.jpg" width="369" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mine contain extra carrots because that's what Sable prefers!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><b>Be careful</b>. The horses 'mobbed' me when I walked into the corral sporting these cookies. I know they meant well but oats & molasses is to horses what wine & chocolate is to us...</div><div><br /></div><div>Also. Before you cast judgement that I must be rich to own a horse, let me assure that is not the case. </div><div><br /></div><div>I'm not rich. I'm irresponsible!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwH9y74yhZngRaZo5xnwtQSjQD6i5KV4cF1kor8vHSnoGzfg-KXbh5zQZsawGxSRT4Qv8Fu7P6C_0k6u2YruOLcc61SBHhs2x09G5eHRUpVNCdvuNqY5rSAaA1xD2_V9MEXSFOblNI2ixnQcQpU8HyXGKax8E6aOI6JhmOk8AJQbophRPHCcDu/s803/cowgirls.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="803" data-original-width="800" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwH9y74yhZngRaZo5xnwtQSjQD6i5KV4cF1kor8vHSnoGzfg-KXbh5zQZsawGxSRT4Qv8Fu7P6C_0k6u2YruOLcc61SBHhs2x09G5eHRUpVNCdvuNqY5rSAaA1xD2_V9MEXSFOblNI2ixnQcQpU8HyXGKax8E6aOI6JhmOk8AJQbophRPHCcDu/w399-h400/cowgirls.jpg" width="399" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-77678465614934630782023-12-27T11:31:00.020-07:002024-01-24T09:34:05.192-07:00Christmas Cactus, Amaryllis, Kalanchoe Tips<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUgeyWX8U0vNQr3ng32LvFEegUSITTyFRpK39mzhMV48Pv-CZiY0bdewfFJcPzWDPUAyzxNragp-9wER9wQbT-z48ThC8SQkDHKMj9I3T6enYkVepFjxAgsvER1QeFRxe0W4DjUQr4Kv7-Z7qL2aAFLtnuZT1RNoT_peE0iYrqlaCxar_xCWu/s920/christmasornament.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="920" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKUgeyWX8U0vNQr3ng32LvFEegUSITTyFRpK39mzhMV48Pv-CZiY0bdewfFJcPzWDPUAyzxNragp-9wER9wQbT-z48ThC8SQkDHKMj9I3T6enYkVepFjxAgsvER1QeFRxe0W4DjUQr4Kv7-Z7qL2aAFLtnuZT1RNoT_peE0iYrqlaCxar_xCWu/s16000/christmasornament.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Did you survive the holidays? We did. <i>Barely</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>We roasted a goose for Christmas. <i>Oh my gods that was awful</i>. Would dearly love to finger someone else for this failed Christmas dinner but it was my idea. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt90wKrZh5vX-9nAgIuzCVuTo58eCcihuYJV_cQGLmfIVo-AybVZS8YLpqQgDpvXLWCCs95ogxxfMs6zL5vind1QvP7CRAVkuX-Hu-l7Px-AJ6PwWMWVd-5ya2Jw6cG93XwROXgkILugn4jKtb_aTp7ZYXdoGriYsZ3w6FvOOQWBgDpsBZTN2H/s951/christmascactus2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt90wKrZh5vX-9nAgIuzCVuTo58eCcihuYJV_cQGLmfIVo-AybVZS8YLpqQgDpvXLWCCs95ogxxfMs6zL5vind1QvP7CRAVkuX-Hu-l7Px-AJ6PwWMWVd-5ya2Jw6cG93XwROXgkILugn4jKtb_aTp7ZYXdoGriYsZ3w6FvOOQWBgDpsBZTN2H/s16000/christmascactus2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scroll to the bottom of this post for tips on holiday cactus.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Thought pulling out all the stops might inspire a little Christmas cheer. </div><div><br /></div><div>The phrase, Bah Humbug, is defined as curmudgeonly displeasure and that’s sort of where I was at, all throughout December. I lost someone very close to me, a few days before Thanksgiving. Been struggling with that, it’s made me very sad. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7Hun5LnmHr5qm9AsZqlKn9nfLRlw3QDv-rNBSuDjNoO7sqQTlVRzif-sA8WWkB_voyKW9-3rQt8-f6lb-OYjCtO98tJF_a0YWeEA1w4Y8ACSbbJObw4tXz2LefC_6tnfNqGkRP5ylAzAmHnD3jnzUf-G0THEhIrf4C_RDRBMmvlINbspGb6e/s906/amar-p.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA7Hun5LnmHr5qm9AsZqlKn9nfLRlw3QDv-rNBSuDjNoO7sqQTlVRzif-sA8WWkB_voyKW9-3rQt8-f6lb-OYjCtO98tJF_a0YWeEA1w4Y8ACSbbJObw4tXz2LefC_6tnfNqGkRP5ylAzAmHnD3jnzUf-G0THEhIrf4C_RDRBMmvlINbspGb6e/s16000/amar-p.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tips to get this beauty to re-bloom are at the bottom of this post.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Came up with the dumb idea of roast goose while watching a favorite holiday movie, A Christmas Carol, (1951 is a great adaptation.) </div><div><br /></div><div>When the nasty ass Scrooge wakes up on a bright Christmas morning deciding to make amends for a lifetime of torturing his only employee, by gifting the poor man a goose. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNdHnM3l8PpFQPXERF8d0vu1s8h8RE7fxI45s8WFcmL9ObkSNUKbhFsVbhKgq6OE1qyukfQCxe814G_qQQzfZc3RtlYUvPVQkS8JED1Eg6YdedXopTStRVtnUzuuEsR1K81WqPKgbBmuGRFoSWuA4X5NQotlK07gbSrfkfXzvx1XFVn5lirMK/s800/r-a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="653" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfNdHnM3l8PpFQPXERF8d0vu1s8h8RE7fxI45s8WFcmL9ObkSNUKbhFsVbhKgq6OE1qyukfQCxe814G_qQQzfZc3RtlYUvPVQkS8JED1Eg6YdedXopTStRVtnUzuuEsR1K81WqPKgbBmuGRFoSWuA4X5NQotlK07gbSrfkfXzvx1XFVn5lirMK/s16000/r-a.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Scrooge could have demonstrated he was a changed man by doing his own Christmas shopping, because we all know that’s a drudgery, especially during the holidays. Instead, he tossed a tuppence to a street urchin, forcing him to do the heavy lifting.</div><div><br /></div><div>Handling that task, himself, would have been a great way to prove he's a changed man. That he's just like the rest of us.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_KmixRFHy2Z0iZnBDlmqg_SDtU83qrGGa2p6-AMSje4myGS69NZmlpIbrTEtDcGtOTE59WLtk3vNEujDcA4_wt0bSuM3TX5_P_kTxVa3GpOIq-f9f1hdmppeQO3KpBpusKBsY7OJfgwXMLVy9FIQi_P3_uzR2xxhrhhotSvmysryz5O9hc13/s967/ab.amar.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="967" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo_KmixRFHy2Z0iZnBDlmqg_SDtU83qrGGa2p6-AMSje4myGS69NZmlpIbrTEtDcGtOTE59WLtk3vNEujDcA4_wt0bSuM3TX5_P_kTxVa3GpOIq-f9f1hdmppeQO3KpBpusKBsY7OJfgwXMLVy9FIQi_P3_uzR2xxhrhhotSvmysryz5O9hc13/s16000/ab.amar.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>While watching the movie I thought to myself...</div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Yeah. I’m roasting a goose</i>. Because it’s different and special and even penny pincher Scrooge thinks it’s worth the extra money. Not giving any thought to how supermarkets filled with turkeys weren’t an option back then. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9TdEvK45QmRzVzVqHfDsEZqB4EsGap6Q_satAtxrf5lXiBAn5JwdDhRajyQoH37VorDz_MHGWi9FAsC2E_4M34wqiQtK3cfW_4HWKk01vfqiZpzqhvVGOWkVPN7q2RWdkIwjEKL1s2tgQH8nIDbVDg64Mbh1jOagwml80HeizUEuMRZGK_qd/s800/p.w.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt9TdEvK45QmRzVzVqHfDsEZqB4EsGap6Q_satAtxrf5lXiBAn5JwdDhRajyQoH37VorDz_MHGWi9FAsC2E_4M34wqiQtK3cfW_4HWKk01vfqiZpzqhvVGOWkVPN7q2RWdkIwjEKL1s2tgQH8nIDbVDg64Mbh1jOagwml80HeizUEuMRZGK_qd/s16000/p.w.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>It’s really hard to find a goose. That should have been the first grand indicator this is a bad idea. </div><div><br /></div><div>But that didn’t stop me. And neither did the price tag. Because I'm on a mission! To make this a Merry Christmas!</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfcE_OBlHXdSGC5dB2ClxBsFSV18xrYmSE6F1lokd_c6Lbc7AMfG17Xbg2TSsa9lKrYMajKVmfPB7TnE8ASFFTjCJRSvDWhxsuDlFwLW7ooEUgEWuyjvfzmypjU_AGVMpIz7Zfeo7WDYpb36n6lHxTOLqlhyphenhyphenKsApw71au_QjmGCwG_Oa24ndJ/s924/kitchenwindow.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="924" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidfcE_OBlHXdSGC5dB2ClxBsFSV18xrYmSE6F1lokd_c6Lbc7AMfG17Xbg2TSsa9lKrYMajKVmfPB7TnE8ASFFTjCJRSvDWhxsuDlFwLW7ooEUgEWuyjvfzmypjU_AGVMpIz7Zfeo7WDYpb36n6lHxTOLqlhyphenhyphenKsApw71au_QjmGCwG_Oa24ndJ/s16000/kitchenwindow.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kalanchoe tips at the bottom of this post.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Found the goose at Whole <strike>Foods</strike> Paycheck, paying $15 <i>per pound</i> for that god-awful goose vs. $2 a pound for delicious, delectable turkey. No one at the dinner table ate it. <i>No one</i>. Not even the not at all picky eater, 5-year-old Hattie. And I've caught that kid eating dog treats!</div><div><br /></div><div>But now I know! That Scrooge wasn't being the slightest bit kind by gifting his employee a goose.</div><div><br /></div><div>AND. Why everybody says the holiday feast is all about the side dishes. Maybe they fell for the Merry Olde England goose idea, as well. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU05X6ai_th2wsROPS7UQI3HWylfREKWV70a_BtCFAP931XcaSc-U815_atfSUCA5DBnBUDLwOpcRrPqLuA577Iyxz6-20taODZVU_O-NYOrydnNQmFR8gl2dQq785925bscXcr-P1ptl9i12qlBJUooD7z39D89i7EqAVEiVhFTxKlANjwrPw/s800/window.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU05X6ai_th2wsROPS7UQI3HWylfREKWV70a_BtCFAP931XcaSc-U815_atfSUCA5DBnBUDLwOpcRrPqLuA577Iyxz6-20taODZVU_O-NYOrydnNQmFR8gl2dQq785925bscXcr-P1ptl9i12qlBJUooD7z39D89i7EqAVEiVhFTxKlANjwrPw/s16000/window.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my window. The view from up here.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>On a happier note, the Amaryllis bulbs were blooming. Here's a tip if you happen to be a lover of this fabulous, indoor, easy-to-grow, bulb. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SyPh9thZx7GZtOVqkEqsy5rE3DRioYyf0UiQUnBFyeMCB5J3WrMsE0lpb-oX2ZmlMuPJ8sCfXEEPZSeVU5J7XMUParu5K35tHMzMAgeARjuibgTZuvE4lVkFZywjT4zZFLcYvBBbz4mzZIxstlM0pSQwm-yvC2G9UIQFzDxkgU2MCMfdOUOk/s800/bulb-how-to.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="655" data-original-width="800" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7SyPh9thZx7GZtOVqkEqsy5rE3DRioYyf0UiQUnBFyeMCB5J3WrMsE0lpb-oX2ZmlMuPJ8sCfXEEPZSeVU5J7XMUParu5K35tHMzMAgeARjuibgTZuvE4lVkFZywjT4zZFLcYvBBbz4mzZIxstlM0pSQwm-yvC2G9UIQFzDxkgU2MCMfdOUOk/s320/bulb-how-to.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Slice your Amaryllis bulb and it will re-bloom.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><b>Amaryllis Tip</b>:</div><div>Don't discard the bulb after the flowers are done blooming.</div><div>Cut it back to just the bulb. </div><div>Slice the bulb as you would 4 quarters of a pie. </div><div>Set in a sunny window - they will re-grow and re-bloom, a second time.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbR0R61Dy0DDJ7f2xvB3kgUJuVJIG_7VN9M-BXNaMvwg8kDVecFEbLANf06fNYpcAQAt77SqHMIGtzyFsLSmSAd7ZtAECAFIvU5AKLbUH18P3du755O3KtsUcdI3_w4UNGadAnuPFbQ-FR9XOOMbri3EbLpaJTWqRr4WXAO-5wuZjm1hIRel6T/s957/christmascactus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="957" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbR0R61Dy0DDJ7f2xvB3kgUJuVJIG_7VN9M-BXNaMvwg8kDVecFEbLANf06fNYpcAQAt77SqHMIGtzyFsLSmSAd7ZtAECAFIvU5AKLbUH18P3du755O3KtsUcdI3_w4UNGadAnuPFbQ-FR9XOOMbri3EbLpaJTWqRr4WXAO-5wuZjm1hIRel6T/s320/christmascactus.jpg" width="268" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Potato/Banana water encourages Christmas Cactus to re-bloom.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div><div><b>Christmas Cactus Tip:</b></div><div>Dice up a potato, add a banana peel, 1/2 cup white vinegar, small spoon yeast, 3 cups water. Let this steep for a few days. Water your cactus with this mixture - soon she will be covered with a second set of happy flowers. Bigger and better than the first round of blooms.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PIZfWIfAfsBwABFu7KTlmOsXujsL8fGy11ZU8S_IDLWDZlD7rBN1LSPazKtKJOd3YPQfmVYdUDfFmlvfJGEUV2E48kq-7v5Coew_K4sh6aJY5-M3kJqjsCp3owI9VuPsg2wP8r3QBJvaJYelIPXezVv7wyDIjO5KcdOI37r3ml2XNU4UA2Vi/s906/k-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PIZfWIfAfsBwABFu7KTlmOsXujsL8fGy11ZU8S_IDLWDZlD7rBN1LSPazKtKJOd3YPQfmVYdUDfFmlvfJGEUV2E48kq-7v5Coew_K4sh6aJY5-M3kJqjsCp3owI9VuPsg2wP8r3QBJvaJYelIPXezVv7wyDIjO5KcdOI37r3ml2XNU4UA2Vi/s320/k-1.jpg" width="283" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Beer. :) Yep. Watered down Beer.</td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><b>Kalanchoe Tips:</b></div><div>Don't compost these beauties when they're done blooming! <i>They're perennial houseplants</i>. The dark days of winter inspires them to set new buds and re-bloom. And so does beer. Water every 7-10 days. <b>Sporadically with watered-down beer</b>. Once every couple of months. It greens up the plant, kills off the bugs, improves the soil, gifting you with tons of bright indoor flowers.</div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-89977408521751347972023-11-20T10:37:00.001-07:002023-12-13T10:57:51.542-07:00Cheesy Apple Bread<p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Vw684DXx0BLXLYBfxOsk4Ajccx3fT-fc4F3B00pZwCmszcS-Gj-k8t5C3eOet_88C3Lo-oWYLsQKM6yOBzBsxu1LEspj7Su1EMXzRVt1tMGK6-rK48Qtj2XowOnuQc3OMifv26FUhyphenhyphenjG2J5d9CIZH9hUTwNe3K1syb7iBuFz86ByAuDo9TWk/s928/appletree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="928" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6Vw684DXx0BLXLYBfxOsk4Ajccx3fT-fc4F3B00pZwCmszcS-Gj-k8t5C3eOet_88C3Lo-oWYLsQKM6yOBzBsxu1LEspj7Su1EMXzRVt1tMGK6-rK48Qtj2XowOnuQc3OMifv26FUhyphenhyphenjG2J5d9CIZH9hUTwNe3K1syb7iBuFz86ByAuDo9TWk/s16000/appletree.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">During a break in the rain, I harvested the last of the apples from the garden.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></p><p>🎵 Oh the weather outside is <strike>frightful</strike> far too warm for my tastes. 🎵 Wish it would snow. </p><p>But we need the moisture - so I shouldn't complain. (I think that's what everyone says when we're trying to justify the rain.) </p><p>So I busied myself baking this delish quick bread.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4BfNSA8yZ82zgiW6pJPKYY3QFhBNyRvkSDGaCYYyM7mQOMjc2zowZ2UWRRt0ce1ajkDHk6k_f0FaazJpdi8TGYAhA2-ucgXzhmgYJIxVphOQJA0QSt1_bzFYSnKF5pdiX_8bvuAFIMQU6YyT2jMfuD6uZhNw6sWUOrpFMkV5JDYq-MLIp_4a/s800/a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir4BfNSA8yZ82zgiW6pJPKYY3QFhBNyRvkSDGaCYYyM7mQOMjc2zowZ2UWRRt0ce1ajkDHk6k_f0FaazJpdi8TGYAhA2-ucgXzhmgYJIxVphOQJA0QSt1_bzFYSnKF5pdiX_8bvuAFIMQU6YyT2jMfuD6uZhNw6sWUOrpFMkV5JDYq-MLIp_4a/s16000/a.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Picture doesn't do it justice. But if you can beyond that, you might love it as much as I do!</p><h3 style="text-align: left;">Cheesy Apple Bread</h3><p></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>1 stick (8 tablespoons) melted butter</li><li>1.5 cups shredded apples</li><li>1 cup sharp cheddar cheese</li><li>1/2 cup mayonnaise</li><li>1 + 2/3 cup flour</li><li>1/4 cup white sugar</li><li>2 tablespoons brown sugar</li><li>2 teaspoons baking powder</li><li>1/2 teaspoon salt</li></ul><p></p><p>Bake at 350 (F) for about 30-35 minutes.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5ys5Zke106YCNNfE8Y6eZnbYV_GzefLTqVuzG_b4zY5W9mPThylg_B2fU6XUrVKYZ8uCO81bDWaX0STUTsT1i89fgd7mZgz6S_CmQwYPQD92340LrXLPhAPT-CWzj7q2nQxMyVu9lRXBrsrfQtindS0WgN5lj7lCs-esMB_wt54j_C6zqJ5e/s1067/c-a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS5ys5Zke106YCNNfE8Y6eZnbYV_GzefLTqVuzG_b4zY5W9mPThylg_B2fU6XUrVKYZ8uCO81bDWaX0STUTsT1i89fgd7mZgz6S_CmQwYPQD92340LrXLPhAPT-CWzj7q2nQxMyVu9lRXBrsrfQtindS0WgN5lj7lCs-esMB_wt54j_C6zqJ5e/s16000/c-a.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>I've also made this quick bread with crabby apples. (Add an extra 1/4 c sugar) It's more work, since you need to remove all the seeds. But. Hey. If it's raining. Nothing better to do! :)</p><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-37050217293614920812023-10-29T11:13:00.071-06:002023-11-09T09:51:38.075-07:00Val di Funes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSF5LS7c6DrxMBsD_ZrSRG0qDmqtevxjpNVHf_sZD-SBzvCCSAgEmYy0eYuAMPuTz1HVBtFuxzAcDjKrBGcuCQKNF5Plx9De9jqH_31BR2sVcDcZAlB_nq174jNR6fhG17f44y9OE89tiB7r9d3IxRG8myDCawqkvmCNws7CHV7KEq8r9X7fFX/s1067/funes.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSF5LS7c6DrxMBsD_ZrSRG0qDmqtevxjpNVHf_sZD-SBzvCCSAgEmYy0eYuAMPuTz1HVBtFuxzAcDjKrBGcuCQKNF5Plx9De9jqH_31BR2sVcDcZAlB_nq174jNR6fhG17f44y9OE89tiB7r9d3IxRG8myDCawqkvmCNws7CHV7KEq8r9X7fFX/s16000/funes.jpg" /></a></div><br />The Dolomites were calling.<div><br /></div><div>* The Dolomites is a stunning mountain range in the northern Italian Alps, near Austria. It became a UNESCO Heritage site - around the time I was living in Italy. But I didn't have a car, so this is the first time I've been able to see them, up close and personal.<br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJi8eJhcQlzVFhrjNu8t_rjFchOE0yGHsdRmZq03_PtscxIVLTCyMrdNUZD4pDjYOoAilkNGwbt7SVniupfq-0amLHvMIDJChsv6bbl6BIl3xKufar_hHLRxiNw0LPl13GwG-O2tbjsriVcqlHZaC4eNAbAL2cPVQgsjkVW08qrHDX1cocjFGi/s800/h.a.f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="621" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJi8eJhcQlzVFhrjNu8t_rjFchOE0yGHsdRmZq03_PtscxIVLTCyMrdNUZD4pDjYOoAilkNGwbt7SVniupfq-0amLHvMIDJChsv6bbl6BIl3xKufar_hHLRxiNw0LPl13GwG-O2tbjsriVcqlHZaC4eNAbAL2cPVQgsjkVW08qrHDX1cocjFGi/s16000/h.a.f.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>The Haflingers were also calling. </p><p>A beautiful horse breed, popular in Austria and Northern Italy. Fell in love with them, a long time ago, when <a href="https://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2011/02/mi-sento-fortunato.html">I lived in Bressanone, Italy</a>. </p><p><a href="https://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2011/02/" target="_blank">Even though I've been here before</a>... <b>This birthday vacation was sort of a dream come true.</b></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nP74s_UgWZwtnnvx5xlXWZaVkqOixfXBneQ_VR4dTLR1Hd8CfoiWIYFRLLIO03RIMl17q0WH9KQRID-pB8c0k8D75mzKoDXgNlWJqBws2iSLgAtfFlSSY8VFzgbv8Fq21k4bVb6tJQ_tKRXBoQ3jAVwPXRpE5cHsI5DAccB9Qr4OgVqg6qhyphenhyphen/s1045/st.j.c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0nP74s_UgWZwtnnvx5xlXWZaVkqOixfXBneQ_VR4dTLR1Hd8CfoiWIYFRLLIO03RIMl17q0WH9KQRID-pB8c0k8D75mzKoDXgNlWJqBws2iSLgAtfFlSSY8VFzgbv8Fq21k4bVb6tJQ_tKRXBoQ3jAVwPXRpE5cHsI5DAccB9Qr4OgVqg6qhyphenhyphen/s16000/st.j.c.jpg" /></a></div><br />The church of San Giovanni [1744] was our original horseback riding destination - you can't ride horses to this field - but we didn't know that! <div><br /></div><div>The countryside looked so inviting! So, we Googled our way into a reservation at Herr Gruberhof's stables in the high hopes we could get close.<p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><blockquote>* You <u>can</u> get very close to this historic church on foot. If and only if, the automated turnstile, on private property, is working. On our visit it was working beautifully for the property owners. Not so much for us. Gobbling Euros yet refusing entry. So... Janet created a diversion and I climbed a fence. To take this photo. ↑ </blockquote></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_tF2dSIzt1p10zo40rwP69rY5eLlfFOYDcjNcKYVcOvAMExhGHcsMeKhvxxeeKw7Fs1OTrvx-xsuZ_veChrYGBqcmZtUNSc77240wDcbr6Glxb2q23oKM0xbvOXpYhGcssLGng4zIDNuNoKMHfZXbhXcdzlDurfwWbVzzNxUEC7qJawLkWg6/s923/c.a.f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="923" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_tF2dSIzt1p10zo40rwP69rY5eLlfFOYDcjNcKYVcOvAMExhGHcsMeKhvxxeeKw7Fs1OTrvx-xsuZ_veChrYGBqcmZtUNSc77240wDcbr6Glxb2q23oKM0xbvOXpYhGcssLGng4zIDNuNoKMHfZXbhXcdzlDurfwWbVzzNxUEC7qJawLkWg6/s16000/c.a.f.jpg" /></a></div><p>Ages ago. Literally. Ages. <a href="https://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2011/02/">I lived in Italy for a little while.</a> </p><p>When I was there I was educated on how Northern Italy isn't really Italy, at all. Hence the confusion when trying to drive to the town of Bressanone while everyone is calling it Brixen. [This area of South Tyrol was basically Austria for 14 centuries - the villages often have two names - and then a bunch of dumb Germans decided to start the world wars.]</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg478JaVZ8PQTih7ukmlDbAF_WAhOCdrtI2zb_naHlZMWy-EEcrGnFG6vxB30H3658ZkmpSk1FnkzOBUWnujDAi7IyN-6o1OUACr8_dH_i8iH7EjwHkzEPZ69Q7L78rka70IMICxPPU8qhPJY1te04tQ-ivVtmLUe8YVNv0ODBN8o4vLOM5_JeV/s1048/a.w.b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1048" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg478JaVZ8PQTih7ukmlDbAF_WAhOCdrtI2zb_naHlZMWy-EEcrGnFG6vxB30H3658ZkmpSk1FnkzOBUWnujDAi7IyN-6o1OUACr8_dH_i8iH7EjwHkzEPZ69Q7L78rka70IMICxPPU8qhPJY1te04tQ-ivVtmLUe8YVNv0ODBN8o4vLOM5_JeV/s16000/a.w.b.jpg" /></a></div><p>I have always had a love affair with Austria -- and not just the mountains! </p><p>Austrian Gardeners do up window boxes like nobody's business! </p><p>And I'm gonna try this next summer! </p><p>* You need <b>Trailing Geraniums</b>. Or Ivy Geraniums. Or Alpine Ivy Geraniums. <i>Nothing is ever easy when shopping in the USA</i>. FYI, it's all the same flowering plant. The 'common' Geraniums we typically purchase in America don't work as well in flower boxes because they don't 'dangle.' </p><p>** And since they're annuals, lasting only one season, might be best to purchase from the least expensive nursery provider.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3W-ITh5cDraLE4Bx41JX_B3njRB1TsS8bb0NtxNy44uU6d2MvQwfQbA5kHk4H9ii7qRQ33MOXnyfBq9GWALr86w9ECXjYX60Iz0kkB-c1n9miZKYjM_mGdQiShE06kH4HVSV4JAdIhMPgMM5hI91xWNUqdWSlSJk82J2bJ3bhvrKx3vjmMhj/s800/teatime.a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS3W-ITh5cDraLE4Bx41JX_B3njRB1TsS8bb0NtxNy44uU6d2MvQwfQbA5kHk4H9ii7qRQ33MOXnyfBq9GWALr86w9ECXjYX60Iz0kkB-c1n9miZKYjM_mGdQiShE06kH4HVSV4JAdIhMPgMM5hI91xWNUqdWSlSJk82J2bJ3bhvrKx3vjmMhj/s16000/teatime.a.jpg" /></a></div><p>From the stunning scenery of the Dolomiti we drove to more civilized surroundings. </p><p>Schloss Leopoldskron in Salzburg.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoZpsxyWesdOO5V2wCOe1gxmHLeU4dyS6pVnuO1aNkqFJkz9dzEtY2rNpI4-xDshtpYzdMHYz_arwvzUwRq12nxi8HJRA6Idi5q8nBPNheO1t96S_d32qlLEsh_lM9BeonqMKNdyT8DX6ntDadkHLdobtG4j1WTDMSxwr-qRqLiuIkkvvwtyM/s800/leo.s.a.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdoZpsxyWesdOO5V2wCOe1gxmHLeU4dyS6pVnuO1aNkqFJkz9dzEtY2rNpI4-xDshtpYzdMHYz_arwvzUwRq12nxi8HJRA6Idi5q8nBPNheO1t96S_d32qlLEsh_lM9BeonqMKNdyT8DX6ntDadkHLdobtG4j1WTDMSxwr-qRqLiuIkkvvwtyM/s16000/leo.s.a.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If you look, really close, you can see two horse statues near the water. <br />This palace is where Julie Andrews and the Von Trapp family 'lived' in the famous movie.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>It's a really big deal to do the Sound of Music tour while in Salzburg. </p><p><i>But why not just stay there? </i></p><p>I mean.. <i>Do we really need to drive 2 hours and then hike for an hour and a half up to a field - for you to sing The Hills Are Alive? </i></p><p>Vacations often include a wee bit of negotiation. Frankly I'm surprised I won this debate 😇 since my travel buddy has watched the Sound of Music dozens of times. I saw it once, decades ago, but mostly I was just hoping that we could alter our plans, avoid the hike. And. And! Stay in a Palace!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4rUiF4c1lIWolifkNayQdFyBTDLdOWyeDn27-YgyKYyaQ8KdVupSzoG0cTabqCBaWjE3ETfQ3UW0bxUPWo9IiTIIzaUn4bSmK5Nv7COW_gjFs4XjxzuY3wRiNOOLKOo7xsnxfgW_KX7q9JHAtB0_IAtciO6iG3otMS6RpZp-O1q0VVXHP6IE/s898/leo.a.f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="898" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm4rUiF4c1lIWolifkNayQdFyBTDLdOWyeDn27-YgyKYyaQ8KdVupSzoG0cTabqCBaWjE3ETfQ3UW0bxUPWo9IiTIIzaUn4bSmK5Nv7COW_gjFs4XjxzuY3wRiNOOLKOo7xsnxfgW_KX7q9JHAtB0_IAtciO6iG3otMS6RpZp-O1q0VVXHP6IE/s16000/leo.a.f.jpg" /></a></div><p>You need Hollywood-size budgets to stay in the rooms in the actual Palace. ↑ </p><p>But you can stay on the grounds - right next door - in the Meierhoff. It's a beautiful hotel.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-66ZPGgChevgGV-hrfzE9-iXHeBSIaAT-1WR1E8S3dsbA57t5p4DktLWCmCT0jIefWcmopLsP3LI-zIH_6Z7Q-Ap4vVHX8naCrbxlmDVTgmUBBIrh-SpKEA_iCTZcRONe0klyNPV0bf24xOXhuegf1MbLdrNxfFZHoJS9B_MAAYP1cToDp7J/s800/library.a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhU-66ZPGgChevgGV-hrfzE9-iXHeBSIaAT-1WR1E8S3dsbA57t5p4DktLWCmCT0jIefWcmopLsP3LI-zIH_6Z7Q-Ap4vVHX8naCrbxlmDVTgmUBBIrh-SpKEA_iCTZcRONe0klyNPV0bf24xOXhuegf1MbLdrNxfFZHoJS9B_MAAYP1cToDp7J/s16000/library.a.jpg" /></a></div><p>You can stroll the gardens and relax in this fabulous, famous, library. ↑ </p><p>Created by Max Reinhardt. If you don't know <a href="https://www.schloss-leopoldskron.com/en/our-history/max-reinhardt" target="_blank">the story of the Max, it's worth a read</a>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0fprL1ZU1N2sC95AFYckGqhxQmmPGpFvulkRWCwfP_xPpIfCNF45wssM-3YRiDDUqnrQIhR_QNchhVwXh9rvp6q8pQ6YnPsvyBZie5usAmvk4SvQEdZ3D6P3JYLi6kUFEqW1KUO_CB9rklhxSNvB9E1Z0Da5HjRkAd5V-vkJBUl2l5m-WN69/s800/breakfast.l.a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix0fprL1ZU1N2sC95AFYckGqhxQmmPGpFvulkRWCwfP_xPpIfCNF45wssM-3YRiDDUqnrQIhR_QNchhVwXh9rvp6q8pQ6YnPsvyBZie5usAmvk4SvQEdZ3D6P3JYLi6kUFEqW1KUO_CB9rklhxSNvB9E1Z0Da5HjRkAd5V-vkJBUl2l5m-WN69/s16000/breakfast.l.a.jpg" /></a></div><p>Breakfast is served in this marvelous ballroom. </p><p>We both agreed that even though we were far from Downton Abbey, it kind of felt the same. The Leopoldskron was as nice, probably better - you're not on a tour. You're allowed to stroll the palace on your own.</p><p>* Downton was our 2020 Is Gonna Be Our Year! vacation. Cancelled due to covid.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_iDcsb6GJq2-OJ1IxF_uFf0mtz0m_WH04qFXQrkknK6voxWkAgxH7CpKydlINAIls07RgVgsNDYWQEBdW4Wi6X-L8Iuuh0Lz20-KC1zOKGaXobRocNiFNQw5YyxvpA288hLGWAvsR8oXzx_eV_QPdi2GECFxKZE0YEd1qpToIv9L-wyyGsmF/s800/g.f.i.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="479" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii_iDcsb6GJq2-OJ1IxF_uFf0mtz0m_WH04qFXQrkknK6voxWkAgxH7CpKydlINAIls07RgVgsNDYWQEBdW4Wi6X-L8Iuuh0Lz20-KC1zOKGaXobRocNiFNQw5YyxvpA288hLGWAvsR8oXzx_eV_QPdi2GECFxKZE0YEd1qpToIv9L-wyyGsmF/s16000/g.f.i.jpg" /></a></div><p>We trekked to quite a few other wonderful places. Including Gardone Riviera on the western shore of Lake Garda. Visited Bressanone, aka Brixen, my 'home' a decade ago. My apartment is standing! When I arrived, in 2011, I was expected to hand the landlady a fistful of Euros, she only accepted cash. It's now an Airbnb. Time marches on. 😞</p><p>Thanks for coming along. I hope these pics have inspired you to travel someplace wonderful, some time, very soon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfobhbwy8y7sNKzoiqBqzTlsoR71RlLc6WeIZJzjxfOZ9roT7npV7RcKKGCjS9UCWg0SY_9QjTZanwjroO9n6LnmUddQc82AulpEdRP-bpxudbmo4EmvuEjbialTPSqxj3qxAZ1gg7mHoSqHqljgm73-tZLjg8pOMV1EthqRJdqZLOOoe957M/s884/b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="884" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXfobhbwy8y7sNKzoiqBqzTlsoR71RlLc6WeIZJzjxfOZ9roT7npV7RcKKGCjS9UCWg0SY_9QjTZanwjroO9n6LnmUddQc82AulpEdRP-bpxudbmo4EmvuEjbialTPSqxj3qxAZ1gg7mHoSqHqljgm73-tZLjg8pOMV1EthqRJdqZLOOoe957M/s16000/b.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p><b>Travel Tip For Europe:</b> People say Europe - and Italy, in particular - is too crowded. </p><p><i>But that's not really the case</i>. </p><p>It's crowded where the trains stop. And you won't be treated very nicely in those locations because the locals are so damn tired of Americans it's not even funny. </p><p><b>Consider renting a car. </b>Cheaper than trains - considerably more flexible - your car will take you to the most remarkable destinations. </p><p>* It is not at all difficult to drive in Europe. Unless, of course, you insist on driving in Rome.</p></div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-64021568855662853822023-09-30T10:51:00.016-06:002023-10-05T10:43:31.905-06:00Thrivers and Survivors<p> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp1Aw1vOVjQzNDTZS8RqlhyphenhyphenWJBIJkMObe7vlh2kJBQXkhNilS05rSI3hx3Xpfsd3QUnsfrmvxEF1AfjG_4gBnsX_l02qqAXNxneHQYd0z_z9pnnBMTr34jYXDsf0xxGteX-Eu8Lak5fHC2jYLHwLv3PFVGbdSSQxasMqNGf6cnv-5MidoyRLt/s800/z.1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnp1Aw1vOVjQzNDTZS8RqlhyphenhyphenWJBIJkMObe7vlh2kJBQXkhNilS05rSI3hx3Xpfsd3QUnsfrmvxEF1AfjG_4gBnsX_l02qqAXNxneHQYd0z_z9pnnBMTr34jYXDsf0xxGteX-Eu8Lak5fHC2jYLHwLv3PFVGbdSSQxasMqNGf6cnv-5MidoyRLt/s16000/z.1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zinnia - best planted by seed - lasts for one season.</td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p>↑Tonight she dies.↑ Annuals, such as this pretty little Zinnia, bloom prolifically all summer long. <i>But they don't last forever. </i>The weather lady is predicting a hard freeze tonight.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_N-Y9J4Ks2dWw1Ggv9RiDBGyHRUPZ0vV8yLmMd3YzSNxalfUJAMcxJZpnzSFOR1Nv6wEo_GP9uFBan9iju8UebeMiLwqHXiEiM5lXL-bLG0umoA00TAvgwM7wlcFq-KFlNCboNGdCGaG9P33Qg_HQ2mFAy6zdLRZP07EL2JjWHQrwly2A3od/s1067/b.i.1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT_N-Y9J4Ks2dWw1Ggv9RiDBGyHRUPZ0vV8yLmMd3YzSNxalfUJAMcxJZpnzSFOR1Nv6wEo_GP9uFBan9iju8UebeMiLwqHXiEiM5lXL-bLG0umoA00TAvgwM7wlcFq-KFlNCboNGdCGaG9P33Qg_HQ2mFAy6zdLRZP07EL2JjWHQrwly2A3od/s16000/b.i.1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bearded Iris live forever - <i>without any help from you</i>.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>↑This gal↑ outlived my Grandmother, my Mother, and I'm pretty sure she'll still be dazzling passers by, with her beauty, long after I'm gone. </p><p>* You can often find Bearded Iris brightly blooming on abandoned homesteads. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6xwoLj_miE1XX53N2nU6yA1xKFIfY_aXAK1n8JKNo6FFs6sqkYnbCHc7A0P6bcKf1a_sGAxrHlq7nC6sstdMBi20RFeSlfuO3Ytpabr0uVCXcMxQ_u7kNcUvb3HBrzfcrqKamsePe9MdfqfZtySoxmchzzNMw-2Mhyw-SOwiFjQu-ibFpiXu/s1065/greatest.hits.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx6xwoLj_miE1XX53N2nU6yA1xKFIfY_aXAK1n8JKNo6FFs6sqkYnbCHc7A0P6bcKf1a_sGAxrHlq7nC6sstdMBi20RFeSlfuO3Ytpabr0uVCXcMxQ_u7kNcUvb3HBrzfcrqKamsePe9MdfqfZtySoxmchzzNMw-2Mhyw-SOwiFjQu-ibFpiXu/s16000/greatest.hits.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This season's Greatest Hits. Many are golden oldies. The orange flowers have been blooming here for 20 years.<br />That Peony up top? I think she's been around for 50 years. Since my Mother was a young lass.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>
Just returned from my 70th High School Class Reunion. <div><br /></div><div>What's that you say? How could that be? How could I possibly be that old? Well. I'm like a Bearded Iris. I plan to live forever. </div><div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqwCP0mprfb6lLF9TklpmmqWs9UyI1LWY6ug8szYYv-FeQYrFInt-lzyb2XGrtCulIkRZb9SS7OHOWVJ9aOgbd5co6Kxya11TNxCXct4ar-SvNr3sSVeCoZ9i1VECJ4dddFaFVWpSiiT9CCqaSqNvowKs_P_b2ANqOwjnMDIPOguMxm32QcI3/s800/d.l.3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheqwCP0mprfb6lLF9TklpmmqWs9UyI1LWY6ug8szYYv-FeQYrFInt-lzyb2XGrtCulIkRZb9SS7OHOWVJ9aOgbd5co6Kxya11TNxCXct4ar-SvNr3sSVeCoZ9i1VECJ4dddFaFVWpSiiT9CCqaSqNvowKs_P_b2ANqOwjnMDIPOguMxm32QcI3/s16000/d.l.3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Day Lilies also last forever. <br />Plant them in a sunny spot where they can help you out. They weed themselves!</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Okay… fine… it hasn’t been seven decades. Not nearly that many years. <u><i>But it felt like 70</i></u>. </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn’t recognize a single person – which was a huge failure on my part. Because there were about 150 faces to choose from. <div><br /></div><div>The other half of my graduating class did not attend. Perhaps they were trying to avoid the pressure. </div><div><br /></div><div>It’s uncomfortable when people are screaming your name, hugging you, while you’re desperately trying to get a glimpse at their name tags. All claiming they missed you and me responding by saying: I missed you, too!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>Because saying: <i>Don’t touch me or who the hell are you?</i> Well. That’s kinda rude. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgSEtmN-3gmPW0JoHd2p16YjEVFdle8PNjXRUCZlSyILsYW_m_IFmFl6uX1G8HeGkFLlKMOlN3dxVCx9KrYyIi3fuTgubys0nFDwq6yaFJfwHfBmYIA2HUJy1ZLzntZP79dlAMQNliHh3_gTwHsjFE34VTBKZIdv3CdftPuDk5SqOlpdMtJ0W/s800/pents1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQgSEtmN-3gmPW0JoHd2p16YjEVFdle8PNjXRUCZlSyILsYW_m_IFmFl6uX1G8HeGkFLlKMOlN3dxVCx9KrYyIi3fuTgubys0nFDwq6yaFJfwHfBmYIA2HUJy1ZLzntZP79dlAMQNliHh3_gTwHsjFE34VTBKZIdv3CdftPuDk5SqOlpdMtJ0W/s16000/pents1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky Mountain Penstemon lives forever through plentiful re-seeding.<br />Prefers the hottest, driest place you can find.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Struggling with recognizing faces we haven't seen since we were 17 is <b>not</b> the real reason why the other 50% of my classmates couldn’t make it to the reunion. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>You can’t get there from here. </i>The town has an airport, but planes don’t fly into it anymore. </div><div><br /></div><div>My trip was a comedy of errors. You <i>can</i> fly but I could reach Paris quicker than Huron, South Dakota. Lotsa layovers. The last plane gets you sorta close. Then you rent a car. And drive another 200 miles.</div><div><br /></div><div>FORGET THAT!!! I'm gonna drive the whole way! <i>But I can't</i>. Because I have an old car. Okay... fine! I've needed a new car forever, I'll buy a car!</div><div><br /></div><div>DONE & DONE! Bought the car, hit the road, took me two days.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I guess you could say... I shelled out $50,000 to avoid paying $600 bucks for a plane ticket. <i>That could get me there twice as fast.</i></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNTe_Lh84EvjxJjZ9YGsUr6Toym4lpZnpd-TZXSgvdvyKZdehy9Pi0WQYKmTWQnhJS7KhcLGZwTcz0_A2GGJbQghsWA5Ay5YlnzpbA6NG0VwxZlEwalzB5Qzz3Mv2P3dH0IG0Zn95i821glcI0hTBy9lGDH3qV5Z4wLxfhA44wuBYrOSje3VA/s800/montana1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihNTe_Lh84EvjxJjZ9YGsUr6Toym4lpZnpd-TZXSgvdvyKZdehy9Pi0WQYKmTWQnhJS7KhcLGZwTcz0_A2GGJbQghsWA5Ay5YlnzpbA6NG0VwxZlEwalzB5Qzz3Mv2P3dH0IG0Zn95i821glcI0hTBy9lGDH3qV5Z4wLxfhA44wuBYrOSje3VA/s16000/montana1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mountain Cornflower (centaurea montana)<br />Comes back every year. Generally in all the spots you don't want her to be.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I’m from one of those little prairie towns that just couldn’t get their act together. And by that, I mean, <i>they were scared.</i> Progress and income, jobs and careers - good things - relevant to the survival of such towns. But they didn't feel safe enough to say yes to new businesses that could give their high school graduates a reason to stay. </div><div><br /></div><div>And we all know how that ends. The town keeps spiraling downward until it is damn near impossible to find a decent cup of coffee. Much less a tasty croissant. 😉</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I had a wonderful time. I really did! I mean once I started figuring out who those people were? It was awesome.</div><div><br /></div><div>And I also had a wonderful summer. The months went by in a blink. As did the years.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-84753797968543148352023-08-28T14:48:00.021-06:002023-10-05T10:37:47.720-06:00What to do when it’s 92.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36Ta6rKUUcHlFjXED7Z6r1po61-dhW3JAXERWTB-esGRSKcwYWCRQjSwR2tzANv0ih3DWI4jjPXJCbfzXqihCLEb4Kttv1FruhN0PAc2cSr2mTmFomhApL03FoRJ43H0u44ISF7RHOeaFe6GUuSCJ4G1vCiGDMxK4XyXRl6vo9waBi9iN3Mys/s800/bee1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj36Ta6rKUUcHlFjXED7Z6r1po61-dhW3JAXERWTB-esGRSKcwYWCRQjSwR2tzANv0ih3DWI4jjPXJCbfzXqihCLEb4Kttv1FruhN0PAc2cSr2mTmFomhApL03FoRJ43H0u44ISF7RHOeaFe6GUuSCJ4G1vCiGDMxK4XyXRl6vo9waBi9iN3Mys/s16000/bee1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Big bumbles sleep in my Hollyhocks.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div>It was briefly hot, not terribly hot, and for that I've been grateful. A summer I would describe as:<div><br /><div><i><b>Everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.</b></i> </div><div><br /></div><div>Actually, Kurt Vonnegut is the one who came up with that wonderful quote. So I'll give my favorite author some credit at the bottom of this post.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCcAk1QfGCDWCrTbAWWCev1h7YQ63TOxaoBwlzgAUdyhPTveYVEWXT7xtYS1wpaptYog1Jq6Pn606oqT8FBktFqlv_XTFPQX7V_w5KXY9dQq6ghO_LaelWlZ1p9qiDwjvjK-xKTAAME4M3pubJ03SGnhKZMVU-zM2o43jkmKl1qjiS09-NQN5/s800/allium1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="636" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNCcAk1QfGCDWCrTbAWWCev1h7YQ63TOxaoBwlzgAUdyhPTveYVEWXT7xtYS1wpaptYog1Jq6Pn606oqT8FBktFqlv_XTFPQX7V_w5KXY9dQq6ghO_LaelWlZ1p9qiDwjvjK-xKTAAME4M3pubJ03SGnhKZMVU-zM2o43jkmKl1qjiS09-NQN5/s16000/allium1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cosmos + Allium.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>In comparison to previous years, the weather has been delightful. </div><div><br /></div><div>It’s cooler this year so we’re trying to forget. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmxLFghBryk0H2u4ht0QxKKKoqSxWv9N_xDvfwIa3NULKZAYP2jlbs0GwszQnCCpYOTiZmXwP1IdG03j0G8sIHli40TpdVBAT_HtaDmtAyXG3Z-y2jvExQDTedbm-6lKSLTZoe3m4lRAjNxslDQ0EzwElotxgGp9g1JgD7PgJ5PfUxkJ4mFtn/s800/fire.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTmxLFghBryk0H2u4ht0QxKKKoqSxWv9N_xDvfwIa3NULKZAYP2jlbs0GwszQnCCpYOTiZmXwP1IdG03j0G8sIHli40TpdVBAT_HtaDmtAyXG3Z-y2jvExQDTedbm-6lKSLTZoe3m4lRAjNxslDQ0EzwElotxgGp9g1JgD7PgJ5PfUxkJ4mFtn/s16000/fire.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>The West has been bruised and battered. With a seven-year drought, heartbreaking wildfires, endless heatwave. I live across the street from a bone dry meadow and it's just a matter of time before some dummy shoots off fireworks and sets it ablaze.</div><div><br /></div><div>Severe watering restrictions prevented me from sprinkling my little flowers last summer. Rains have vastly improved that situation.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId8qB7x12zuazZbMXFwvrgArZZmk2oRcPgu2i4rkfNlIaeScJyKLdABTI9bbgXyJMtn3BTOI8VkiXnNV4LXevBqu-fEGX4rqkCpTNPKml2YuxhIfNW77Ch2xRUHM3LNDuZeT9h83K7Um5QGdypt1byphlOnzbA32q2SLy9-raBZJetJAs2hvv/s940/beebalm1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="940" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjId8qB7x12zuazZbMXFwvrgArZZmk2oRcPgu2i4rkfNlIaeScJyKLdABTI9bbgXyJMtn3BTOI8VkiXnNV4LXevBqu-fEGX4rqkCpTNPKml2YuxhIfNW77Ch2xRUHM3LNDuZeT9h83K7Um5QGdypt1byphlOnzbA32q2SLy9-raBZJetJAs2hvv/s16000/beebalm1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moppy-headed Bee Balm.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>All that misery is behind us. At least, for now.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TTySQyt8EwwfT1IWrtr5vsBL5iq6BEn1OFET69aveEVZsMPRG-adGsd-gh5yxq-ZG3ON5Lgj9OJzmTkGdNmCNagdgt2FSSu-Kd99RKwfZRRqD2IrMgt21qc4wpMJfPQYU5VUDVPeYO9zA_VAUX8CXGWaa4XW2Vfq_GHG2sxbLaB5G-th2bUp/s902/h2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="902" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5TTySQyt8EwwfT1IWrtr5vsBL5iq6BEn1OFET69aveEVZsMPRG-adGsd-gh5yxq-ZG3ON5Lgj9OJzmTkGdNmCNagdgt2FSSu-Kd99RKwfZRRqD2IrMgt21qc4wpMJfPQYU5VUDVPeYO9zA_VAUX8CXGWaa4XW2Vfq_GHG2sxbLaB5G-th2bUp/s16000/h2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't remember.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>This morning, I took a walk in the gardens. </div><div><br /></div><div>Appreciating those tough cookies, aka waterwise and native flowers, who happily survived. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lx9NYdtglS-nrpNf5ViiTqpNHxdq31jtVz058InQKmWa7y8iUuCUUciMX3eNTEGJOQ4mmlfkP6S18noQe3upHnw95FNzxkFh-2dC5f4CA8SlpLSGPbdxvVpTBn4A5frcQ9eQWc6GSuNjBNrVi2-xC-nHCIZ2CI4jbTES4lng7RiyDKvARcPb/s800/flax1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4lx9NYdtglS-nrpNf5ViiTqpNHxdq31jtVz058InQKmWa7y8iUuCUUciMX3eNTEGJOQ4mmlfkP6S18noQe3upHnw95FNzxkFh-2dC5f4CA8SlpLSGPbdxvVpTBn4A5frcQ9eQWc6GSuNjBNrVi2-xC-nHCIZ2CI4jbTES4lng7RiyDKvARcPb/s16000/flax1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flax.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Just strolling about, bending down, collecting seeds from spent flowers, tossing them into other areas.</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Thanking my lucky stars for the monsoon rains. </i></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQRjC5iBRGNdOa4rk0q7d_ZuSYFW_kC2d-pN6MXJ3leiXII7_oQQYmJbAdCppQlU0CtEtQ6OC0PQ8pLB8UKBZH3JQc2RDBfHr6-g76FUuLkvnegPuNgHj63Cj61fJJHmNNPY0-rkkViyQ_ItT6pjhTn0YoLBVU1eT-rnGYI3DVloJ-2GRc0TZ/s800/maltese.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="699" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWQRjC5iBRGNdOa4rk0q7d_ZuSYFW_kC2d-pN6MXJ3leiXII7_oQQYmJbAdCppQlU0CtEtQ6OC0PQ8pLB8UKBZH3JQc2RDBfHr6-g76FUuLkvnegPuNgHj63Cj61fJJHmNNPY0-rkkViyQ_ItT6pjhTn0YoLBVU1eT-rnGYI3DVloJ-2GRc0TZ/s16000/maltese.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maltese Cross.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Monsoons are kind of a new thing for us - up here in Utah. Very common in New Mexico. I’m no meteorologist; I’m just observant. It feels like the summer weather patterns from New Mexico are moving farther north. </div><div><br /></div><div><div>Monsoons are intense, short, rainstorms - hits like a wall of water. Likes to show up right about the time you're far from home, without an umbrella. </div><div><br /></div><div>After the deluge, you’re gifted with a pretty rainbow and a garden of tall perennials collapsed in the mud. </div></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJOM56smkzIeBsuyUyhzrYdQPbgDQCfbP7hPeaH32KRSrOl2zwXtx1Zn9tqpGmt21Yk8pbpkwXExtqBvu5q9PQIo6kTp7pVihAozXc_hgkW9yxjZ38x0MYYvyYCCqYgqX0DxD04bIVOmfZ57dre_1apvQm2cmkOaQefMvrSWZ0a77TH31QRoB/s1067/h3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYJOM56smkzIeBsuyUyhzrYdQPbgDQCfbP7hPeaH32KRSrOl2zwXtx1Zn9tqpGmt21Yk8pbpkwXExtqBvu5q9PQIo6kTp7pVihAozXc_hgkW9yxjZ38x0MYYvyYCCqYgqX0DxD04bIVOmfZ57dre_1apvQm2cmkOaQefMvrSWZ0a77TH31QRoB/s16000/h3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hollyhocks from Hazel's Garden.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Most folks, like me, who choose to live in high elevations do so because we can’t take the heat. The few, the proud, who fully embrace winter and all the fun it has to offer. </div><div><br /></div><div>So even though it’s been cooler this summer, I still find myself hiding out in the air conditioning, mid-afternoon, checking up on the gardeners of TikTok. </div><div><br /></div><div>I suppose it sounds kind of odd that I prefer this social channel vs. Facebook. But I just love those TikTok gardeners. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h_xJk5qq0vNeMpOmt-sZ_LRSf1r_Ui1iqjpM0n2QPy40_prb21PzaEKkMW4ssV90FwqG2E2MD40nTK-1V_987eg-FLDvlXjl2H8sIhHa4Ew2eJUxKOUbrW6z8LtqL5296KR6ga9C3xDj9kexr6Cgdr6Z6ixUMQeoJBZnwiH4aIEDjLWUJduO/s816/holly.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4h_xJk5qq0vNeMpOmt-sZ_LRSf1r_Ui1iqjpM0n2QPy40_prb21PzaEKkMW4ssV90FwqG2E2MD40nTK-1V_987eg-FLDvlXjl2H8sIhHa4Ew2eJUxKOUbrW6z8LtqL5296KR6ga9C3xDj9kexr6Cgdr6Z6ixUMQeoJBZnwiH4aIEDjLWUJduO/s16000/holly.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mallow ~ Miniature Hollyhocks.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Back during the halcyon days of blogging, we were thrilled with 1,000 followers. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>These gals have 2 million viewers taking a virtual stroll through their backyards. And they are so much fun.</i></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB19nFPaPsBV8eN059XYf3lhaVuzhJ3UntCHbm6B61ukJwobdi90RjPZLze4z8cWXEhq1wvH8ORkQ5UBRoCrAEtBfQCmTSSZMeUIYI6gPk2xI6CcqP5SE9cBqlE1FChgRfMhC2KwSwU3_iLGJao-vm8kis8ZgeAqVRdkRPf6EtfqQSirRk82_U/s800/zinnia1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB19nFPaPsBV8eN059XYf3lhaVuzhJ3UntCHbm6B61ukJwobdi90RjPZLze4z8cWXEhq1wvH8ORkQ5UBRoCrAEtBfQCmTSSZMeUIYI6gPk2xI6CcqP5SE9cBqlE1FChgRfMhC2KwSwU3_iLGJao-vm8kis8ZgeAqVRdkRPf6EtfqQSirRk82_U/s16000/zinnia1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zinnias.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>TikTokers inspired to me to plant more seeds, this summer. </div><div><br /></div><div>Every garden has some odd quirk. It’s hard for root-bound, potted, perennials to take off in my poor soil. And even though it’s practically impossible for seeds to survive – thanks to this little jerk, below, who ate half the seeds and invited all her friends to the party...</div><div><br /></div><div>It’s really fun when my annuals pop up and say howdy. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSF_g5v7uUz-QAW9VeQkgxdV31iN50bOZZ63iN8ilMHENqJf5EMUquAduUncFsV5yHOZc7q7D_wtQCYPjqpzY9m7zVFoyhCNuSvakVrO5DXzDf5F9HMPYbPPfsdi6Vi6VLypa8F4DPdx91iy7abu6KnSAZBHAPPcVaC2eXOmipWEDS7oshBtb/s800/jerk.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSF_g5v7uUz-QAW9VeQkgxdV31iN50bOZZ63iN8ilMHENqJf5EMUquAduUncFsV5yHOZc7q7D_wtQCYPjqpzY9m7zVFoyhCNuSvakVrO5DXzDf5F9HMPYbPPfsdi6Vi6VLypa8F4DPdx91iy7abu6KnSAZBHAPPcVaC2eXOmipWEDS7oshBtb/s16000/jerk.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jerk.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Busy days. </div><div><br /></div><div>Been riding quite a bit. We're enjoying a super bloom of wildflowers in the High Uintas. I try to photograph whatever the horse doesn't eat. ↓</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEher2El34b1zcOW--m2fsbkXg_QSfWA11bTleg_8Jj9ynexGp5haDRIp1xPRgPztXtHt6dpqr1aN0tMLgDSG3rVbiDxk8OG51rMvbk7iDMm7XJMQ24qS11Jg_qbJJ4MknxFJ0EiV8P2ttlmUd-pht2Vh1T1LywwreIdaWmhMuBkoO9fLCczFoSn/s1067/olaf.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEher2El34b1zcOW--m2fsbkXg_QSfWA11bTleg_8Jj9ynexGp5haDRIp1xPRgPztXtHt6dpqr1aN0tMLgDSG3rVbiDxk8OG51rMvbk7iDMm7XJMQ24qS11Jg_qbJJ4MknxFJ0EiV8P2ttlmUd-pht2Vh1T1LywwreIdaWmhMuBkoO9fLCczFoSn/s16000/olaf.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Hurricane Hattie has been sharing her recipes for the bestest mud pies. ↓</div><div><br /></div><div>As I look at this photo, I can't help but giggle that I let her make mud pies in that pretty dress. Didn't even think about it. Her mom and I don't see eye to eye. On mud. :)</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4MsrIWG4uQ0ytBAZZMynIJySa5cAhm1i_qrp4SSHMzhVU88Z1XudzqBAt6xEua1Ql_KyM0O3wyK0RiA4zvPQz8r3DaNZkgnLMEggcc6Nefr53_RY_o8alhQfI5oSMpsp5TG205dp_n3OzAMP6i8TH0LtIcddv53qHdWyascSr--yyy_n9TE-/s944/miss.h.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="944" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-4MsrIWG4uQ0ytBAZZMynIJySa5cAhm1i_qrp4SSHMzhVU88Z1XudzqBAt6xEua1Ql_KyM0O3wyK0RiA4zvPQz8r3DaNZkgnLMEggcc6Nefr53_RY_o8alhQfI5oSMpsp5TG205dp_n3OzAMP6i8TH0LtIcddv53qHdWyascSr--yyy_n9TE-/s16000/miss.h.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Charlie is learning to appreciate the fragrance of Wild Asters. ↓</div><div><br /></div><div>* That yellow flower is Helianthus. A perennial sunflower -- and the very best choice for late summer color in mountain gardens. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Only plant her if you're willing to allow her to multiply</i> and please don't call me in a few years when you have 100 of them instead of 10. 😇 Because this is me. Saying I told you so. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVxrBsOsyOsoa-45gSI5DQhpvlwtfJivdEp1l-AxaHkVxDWdMJPRba2heZvOAJGh5Gufo4ghCEGaD27vXhgdCIT2ZPunS3TX9Cj_DrCrQxYdDoPWY_O6iJnYc5slbRPvU88z_azOxsOlLUD8C5J9K5253SknVElNCmpoRCkgPfUAhp2hrJ2sG/s1121/charlie1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1121" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHVxrBsOsyOsoa-45gSI5DQhpvlwtfJivdEp1l-AxaHkVxDWdMJPRba2heZvOAJGh5Gufo4ghCEGaD27vXhgdCIT2ZPunS3TX9Cj_DrCrQxYdDoPWY_O6iJnYc5slbRPvU88z_azOxsOlLUD8C5J9K5253SknVElNCmpoRCkgPfUAhp2hrJ2sG/s16000/charlie1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Waffles + Helianthus + Wild Asters</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>The big talk on TikTok was what to plant for late season flowering. None of the flowers in this post were recommended -- maybe they're just too boring. But I love 'em. I've reached a point in my 'gardening career' when easy = better. </div><div><br /></div><div>These flowers aren't exotic but during the summer when the city wouldn't allow us to water them, they did just fine. You can prevent a lot of heartache when you know what grows.</div><div><br /></div><div>* <i>They were up to their eyeballs in straw bedding - which I would never recommend</i>. Straw retains moisture for long periods of time - very helpful in difficult circumstances. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><i>** Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse 5, “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.” < </i>That's a banned book. The hashtag on Twitter (X) - Republicans Are Destroying America - can connect you to free reading of banned books. If you're not on Twitter (X) you can read banned books by clicking <a href="https://libguides.com.edu/c.php?g=649165&p=9253060" target="_blank">here</a>. </div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-3336615885573905992023-07-09T14:49:00.009-06:002023-07-10T10:17:46.896-06:00The Roses are Blooming<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVaaTnBEd1fb_WBIskmJSGOjv-LhPUiSgUnGgBBNAxAXsNpv5ltq4bHAlzkvBQihAiLKP_1NY4sw2qEeAOYFwSIDN8gLxf06IkBeUuU00PqP0xBS6mwbGh_dejm8_tfOKyvnwXolofdlOtzU3uPxXrzcYmsX9wtRcvqaf4ne53fTy1Z8Ix-X7/s1008/pinkrose.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1008" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxVaaTnBEd1fb_WBIskmJSGOjv-LhPUiSgUnGgBBNAxAXsNpv5ltq4bHAlzkvBQihAiLKP_1NY4sw2qEeAOYFwSIDN8gLxf06IkBeUuU00PqP0xBS6mwbGh_dejm8_tfOKyvnwXolofdlOtzU3uPxXrzcYmsX9wtRcvqaf4ne53fTy1Z8Ix-X7/s16000/pinkrose.jpg" /></a></div><p></p><p>I only have three varieties of Roses. Technically, I should only have two. This beauty is not what I ordered. But I'm not complaining!</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv81J6TXhiavi9s1qFlnRETKykUJgWRIRSnr7Atrbu8scHv3eCnmV0AvFe9orbF5YVfZ-5CftKdc-bCa1uds56WIBBzieva_jTsyv-dx80vRf7jh8eIW0e0fE-bheC70LglsmGKLCSSOkhEV_vc5o1kuDqQ5ldEBS0iNIHv4b9TjWkK0AxB1G/s800/rose2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="712" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNv81J6TXhiavi9s1qFlnRETKykUJgWRIRSnr7Atrbu8scHv3eCnmV0AvFe9orbF5YVfZ-5CftKdc-bCa1uds56WIBBzieva_jTsyv-dx80vRf7jh8eIW0e0fE-bheC70LglsmGKLCSSOkhEV_vc5o1kuDqQ5ldEBS0iNIHv4b9TjWkK0AxB1G/s16000/rose2.jpg" /></a></div><p>I've always been a little afraid of Roses. Assumed they were high maintenance. And delicate. Didn't believe they could survive in this harsh climate. Especially with me in charge.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfq5lI_XLVn5BcXDYhfneVMSv0vEFEh-zzvb6rGGy6xnEzntg262hrvJt7zLa5ppTpd5M2gsAmMj7DNEyygqt0GnHALoQSdF-SPZDt1Z7xpMR9RDowT3qXGpmqMwsQ_u9dUAo1h8SRgXRPeN114T5igWM9RXnztcp9l_fQVR-T8rKiA2OBt-M/s1067/yellow.rose.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZfq5lI_XLVn5BcXDYhfneVMSv0vEFEh-zzvb6rGGy6xnEzntg262hrvJt7zLa5ppTpd5M2gsAmMj7DNEyygqt0GnHALoQSdF-SPZDt1Z7xpMR9RDowT3qXGpmqMwsQ_u9dUAo1h8SRgXRPeN114T5igWM9RXnztcp9l_fQVR-T8rKiA2OBt-M/s16000/yellow.rose.jpg" /></a></div><p>Mom gifted me this yellow one - years ago - when I purchased this house. Wild Yellow Roses blanketed my parent's property when I was growing up. <i>Oh, I just loved them... </i>She promised me: You can't kill 'em, no matter how hard you try. :)</p><p>I was skeptical but she was right about that.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYy4k8p_2HTAWk6leXEqq_w6cCf6QGQkQQP_K2mwfmwq_h_iLVsqZkTDrzXnjgreugKmpwbpTrzoFSsqDMcs1Wn4cFNsqCH1ARF-wIsVTla_yTgq1v6_dqO8rMm4gpXXRy4VxTeSm8CR9BomwfGcyVuOuLkQelh2FdKfuhg58N0SBi_n0ewxk/s881/front.steps.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="881" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitYy4k8p_2HTAWk6leXEqq_w6cCf6QGQkQQP_K2mwfmwq_h_iLVsqZkTDrzXnjgreugKmpwbpTrzoFSsqDMcs1Wn4cFNsqCH1ARF-wIsVTla_yTgq1v6_dqO8rMm4gpXXRy4VxTeSm8CR9BomwfGcyVuOuLkQelh2FdKfuhg58N0SBi_n0ewxk/s16000/front.steps.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Yellow Roses + Bonus Dog</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Feeling rather bold after my wild Roses flourished, I tried my luck with another low maintenance variety. <b>The John Cabots</b>. <div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGElNk7hw2uuKzdfJdQXkAckz8du-tgjlds5dLEaNyBCsKC8iVtwZSVDL1IqfAR3ZwCZ4B-7Drk-aqdl8Bfv3FZsHgr75exkcHceQN-0n7lGvGS-ajA_0GHMkZmPjjCvRwfxUMjPfuJg4aFm7sDDkkO3ZGw_UF5Ih8Itm-pPrMTMFhOleP9Wi/s903/rose.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSGElNk7hw2uuKzdfJdQXkAckz8du-tgjlds5dLEaNyBCsKC8iVtwZSVDL1IqfAR3ZwCZ4B-7Drk-aqdl8Bfv3FZsHgr75exkcHceQN-0n7lGvGS-ajA_0GHMkZmPjjCvRwfxUMjPfuJg4aFm7sDDkkO3ZGw_UF5Ih8Itm-pPrMTMFhOleP9Wi/s16000/rose.1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>This is a story of how I fell head over heels in love with John Cabot Roses.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_bVZUwJFJBnWbzw2jFQWNYBzyKBsnIALMKG2bHhg44KIs8PKfDHpVZDCdkGf5j-EltF7eCfnbeKsYRR0JbS3T4JmXfKbk-T5cmc3SMO8Tl2kdKgK7s4cNVcw3sMebXTFP_UVIZPSbJiGwmAbCbSlZqa8LzIG8OdVHy9fZknSEbW1ONfcRFYm/s1067/rose4.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH_bVZUwJFJBnWbzw2jFQWNYBzyKBsnIALMKG2bHhg44KIs8PKfDHpVZDCdkGf5j-EltF7eCfnbeKsYRR0JbS3T4JmXfKbk-T5cmc3SMO8Tl2kdKgK7s4cNVcw3sMebXTFP_UVIZPSbJiGwmAbCbSlZqa8LzIG8OdVHy9fZknSEbW1ONfcRFYm/s16000/rose4.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>They are a surprisingly, (shockingly?) tough variety. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>How tough? <i>This tough:</i></b></div><div>I've owned this house for a long time but I didn't live in it for 5 years. During those years, I had hired a landscaping guy who did a fabulously <u>incompetent</u> job of taking care of the property. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>He disconnected the irrigation system so he didn't have to mow the lawn very often.</i> Not caring that, in doing so, he would kill every flowering thing in my gardens.</div><div><br /></div><div>* There's a special spot in hell for guys like that. At least, I hope so.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk2g8r8KloQf52RjibRnZg-f_yWHWm8nK6Ufl1_g4prXPZniV8T73w5bkSCQmS6FN7VhBQEO863gx6zFXhLbfYiNjR19JrMH2ocQO4FNHjMHSNV2f19durq0UGrBTkMo20edDeGN-e-ucR4yT8ryXaCTv0ZASuScMBpWyg0umNnYvb0VFVrBj/s849/rose.3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="849" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFk2g8r8KloQf52RjibRnZg-f_yWHWm8nK6Ufl1_g4prXPZniV8T73w5bkSCQmS6FN7VhBQEO863gx6zFXhLbfYiNjR19JrMH2ocQO4FNHjMHSNV2f19durq0UGrBTkMo20edDeGN-e-ucR4yT8ryXaCTv0ZASuScMBpWyg0umNnYvb0VFVrBj/s16000/rose.3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Cabots are huge. This boulder is the size of a Jeep Wrangler.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>Anyhoo... when I moved back to the house, 5 years later, I was shocked at how bad everything looked.</div><div><br /></div><div>But there they were! My John Cabots survived. Living in a high plains desert, during drought, record breaking heat, very little water, it hardly ever rains here. But there they were! Flowering up a storm.</div><div><br /></div><div>I own a half dozen of these hot pink beauties. I'd probably buy more - if I could find a place to put them.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwi9OUqTXS779hVyfFJQO67Kzd2Fq0w1lj77D2Bxywm5Wv8Au0dfvvyiZhgEZCB-ficMMGz9tZtdJwaFZ75jwgvCTx7A-L5x7jYb0-xBWKT4BZYFygmeN8mn6ns35BRc0Xw6uk9x0Wyd3QweeElrQg7tiATPTnTwaM4NW7C5vlDCuNJP04mXh/s800/bee..jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMwi9OUqTXS779hVyfFJQO67Kzd2Fq0w1lj77D2Bxywm5Wv8Au0dfvvyiZhgEZCB-ficMMGz9tZtdJwaFZ75jwgvCTx7A-L5x7jYb0-xBWKT4BZYFygmeN8mn6ns35BRc0Xw6uk9x0Wyd3QweeElrQg7tiATPTnTwaM4NW7C5vlDCuNJP04mXh/s16000/bee..jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>It is ~ finally ~ full on summertime up here in the mountains.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1diszZviHq_pYHP4_TxMqSfjoVTHAm6ozK7XC_97EXnisQD5ply5rp9z_0cNWnig7yezDh9GwSVXFelloi4sp8tSr2i0EEX5W2bYTEtREZIA8dk0jVNjJcbLxJ8wn0QqkggEcNnamBOlxBVQhCpzp7XvNIdtlvoYIOR324uQUeVuOpHqq9JVC/s1067/knopfia.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1diszZviHq_pYHP4_TxMqSfjoVTHAm6ozK7XC_97EXnisQD5ply5rp9z_0cNWnig7yezDh9GwSVXFelloi4sp8tSr2i0EEX5W2bYTEtREZIA8dk0jVNjJcbLxJ8wn0QqkggEcNnamBOlxBVQhCpzp7XvNIdtlvoYIOR324uQUeVuOpHqq9JVC/s16000/knopfia.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>The Bottle Rockets are going nuts. I call them that because they typically bloom right around the 4th of July. [Kniphofia Red Hot Pokers.]</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86B83w7jXVfQfAwIsdAHPxEfhCBZOGrIuI_M6m1ThvjaREo2Rfv8UQohL-9SGlP8VzsNpWfqBtv21p-YUOcMWzTX6rDHv4qwnYL3hVrWVr4EIxvoyubvqakzNadkTB4-_Mh3ZHQ3TrYC09JQy0E8rtSSeDi3EmjrUer2WbDU-7Cp04hBADCr5/s800/wild.penstamon.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="579" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh86B83w7jXVfQfAwIsdAHPxEfhCBZOGrIuI_M6m1ThvjaREo2Rfv8UQohL-9SGlP8VzsNpWfqBtv21p-YUOcMWzTX6rDHv4qwnYL3hVrWVr4EIxvoyubvqakzNadkTB4-_Mh3ZHQ3TrYC09JQy0E8rtSSeDi3EmjrUer2WbDU-7Cp04hBADCr5/s16000/wild.penstamon.1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>The Rocky Mountain Penstemon has decided that growing inside the garden beds is for suckers, she shall bloom wherever she pleases. Choosing to take over the garden bench. And since she's so pretty, nobody wants to sit on her, therefore we don't get to sit in the garden.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FVpJ4yce7JpwnRxR7J3PQnqmsclEUDRXWWYNOnmCVhsBBmCxVvO3Epk7-n7_aoYFsjhRSNp7VIOCTd6ky4jXTRRw7Hwea7z3iaTrnpYxCBpPozaUisjpbCx57XgCkvKGKZZDJ9H6eu10WP-dVD-5vVCl8N6Tu6n1iinuBzsVvHdQZ5Lzh4VB/s800/payson.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="561" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8FVpJ4yce7JpwnRxR7J3PQnqmsclEUDRXWWYNOnmCVhsBBmCxVvO3Epk7-n7_aoYFsjhRSNp7VIOCTd6ky4jXTRRw7Hwea7z3iaTrnpYxCBpPozaUisjpbCx57XgCkvKGKZZDJ9H6eu10WP-dVD-5vVCl8N6Tu6n1iinuBzsVvHdQZ5Lzh4VB/s16000/payson.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The wild meadows in Payson Canyon.<br />* This is not me ~ I'm taking the picture.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Our plentiful snows last winter have brought the wildflower meadows back to life. We're experiencing a super bloom, everywhere we ride.</div><div><br /></div><div>Last year, this time, we were suffering through our 7th year of horrendous drought. Smoke-filled air from the plentiful wildfires made it difficult to breathe. Ash accumulated on our cars, from wildfires burning too close for comfort. Me. Offering shelter to friends forced to evacuate.</div><div><br /></div><div>And, of course, the media couldn't stop with the doom and gloom - deeming this cataclysmic. Predicting that we will not survive.</div><div><br /></div><div>But we did. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACeeS71stfICGlu6XgQpHSjp98bT78s-wtXv-tlrYMh4Tw3Gb7if0fU6GSfTKissORDwb2A5pDy3BGHpXHvuQe_vi-s0akhyDIH0l5N7zwfKqikDZ1MqEhAKV6elF2GfOjaJxD4iCDbvdYUuxC86qIDQLNThyCBmzjuxwGpwGUEfz6k3pHHwE/s1067/meadow.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgACeeS71stfICGlu6XgQpHSjp98bT78s-wtXv-tlrYMh4Tw3Gb7if0fU6GSfTKissORDwb2A5pDy3BGHpXHvuQe_vi-s0akhyDIH0l5N7zwfKqikDZ1MqEhAKV6elF2GfOjaJxD4iCDbvdYUuxC86qIDQLNThyCBmzjuxwGpwGUEfz6k3pHHwE/s16000/meadow.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My darling granddaughter and her BFF on a forced nature hike.<br />They're standing out there, complaining that they don't have their iPads.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>So far, this has been an absolutely delightful summer. The gardens, the meadows, the people, the wildflowers. Everything coming back to life. And I hope it stays this way. For a good long time.</div><div><br /></div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-30582981168856865782023-06-26T11:51:00.011-06:002023-06-27T11:40:12.333-06:00Worth the Wait<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns0BZA1DUdrS7nObK7e0BqDknCzMlLfDo815Ubl5-ng78CCMMrSr5LFDnsxRQw1jPbGME_BHuQn8dZ3PBZrWCI5bkNIiHiARZPHOQfrdSvLVa6gAx-wbSsCk4Mb0cmHC7ZbnN1wQmLSKRelLcfUm4ukBbUb5Eu3I-khzHCvf9k_XxJT5jIcwo/s1067/rockymountaincolumbine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjns0BZA1DUdrS7nObK7e0BqDknCzMlLfDo815Ubl5-ng78CCMMrSr5LFDnsxRQw1jPbGME_BHuQn8dZ3PBZrWCI5bkNIiHiARZPHOQfrdSvLVa6gAx-wbSsCk4Mb0cmHC7ZbnN1wQmLSKRelLcfUm4ukBbUb5Eu3I-khzHCvf9k_XxJT5jIcwo/s16000/rockymountaincolumbine.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rocky Mountain Columbine is normally true blue. <br />My alkaline soil turns the flowers a purplish-blue.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>They say patience is a virtue. I really wouldn’t know. My mind is often spinning in a dozen different directions. Who's got the time to worry about that?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LVO_Xg1aYxa1DAQ5UtWOwnvXkeiLIXSRG1at50BT_7TWUm9kAlHHz9-YK6DkcOV2qxD8vdWkwVzyIuop_JpSwoIu5MYdhZ9tiequMtRTEqG7XZ7XIoikPOW9LJSgoafB5ACzYtIfgefox7dmd7MYri0yAIHlHw4TaBlkNOWBGvQp0magnYWn/s1067/pinkcolumbine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3LVO_Xg1aYxa1DAQ5UtWOwnvXkeiLIXSRG1at50BT_7TWUm9kAlHHz9-YK6DkcOV2qxD8vdWkwVzyIuop_JpSwoIu5MYdhZ9tiequMtRTEqG7XZ7XIoikPOW9LJSgoafB5ACzYtIfgefox7dmd7MYri0yAIHlHw4TaBlkNOWBGvQp0magnYWn/s16000/pinkcolumbine.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some folks might consider this pretty Columbine a 'weed,' <br />since she prefers to grow in the crack in my sidewalk.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I've never really minded all my nervous energy. It inspires all kinds of <i>I’m gonna do this! I’m gonna do that!</i> exciting ideas. </div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks to this nervous energy, I actually follow through. </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbF3lQxrXA56pq7sBJYSrHLzq8SGAF-MxrWgNqDIXetkkBXxkcIUCNJLBTuMA9F-s31p_RXPT4Dgbf3vLphOUa8R2k9SUcbH6Bvk7rUFoGjCvZmsi9YLa8OcpDASvMRSSOePxthk-YUyrpULTX4ZWSl5-meYBvJl1uDmDq8ElZKoTF727vJxp/s800/wildcolumbine.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="626" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVbF3lQxrXA56pq7sBJYSrHLzq8SGAF-MxrWgNqDIXetkkBXxkcIUCNJLBTuMA9F-s31p_RXPT4Dgbf3vLphOUa8R2k9SUcbH6Bvk7rUFoGjCvZmsi9YLa8OcpDASvMRSSOePxthk-YUyrpULTX4ZWSl5-meYBvJl1uDmDq8ElZKoTF727vJxp/s16000/wildcolumbine.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This wild Columbine planted herself in my gardens.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div> <i>“You have the patience of a flea.”</i> So sayeth my gone but not forgotten supervisor during my last corporate performance review. </div><div><br /></div><div>In this world, there are doers and talkers. He dearly loved to talk but he never really got around to doing much of anything.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoIgiK69vxNFFKZ5khSWE9PMoynofPb6MeoX14igERr5ZknoN33SvaBNP89FdQF8ALFfrK5bhuOMvzinkJ4-heRbcfsDFdtXlOBIlOGr1On4BKMxF8V155SMsViOiNtukUrbRoz4ldVwPjAXmTtuxV0tvRW6Q_VIyAeqVS8uIkJHujbGHc746/s858/orientalpoppy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="858" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOoIgiK69vxNFFKZ5khSWE9PMoynofPb6MeoX14igERr5ZknoN33SvaBNP89FdQF8ALFfrK5bhuOMvzinkJ4-heRbcfsDFdtXlOBIlOGr1On4BKMxF8V155SMsViOiNtukUrbRoz4ldVwPjAXmTtuxV0tvRW6Q_VIyAeqVS8uIkJHujbGHc746/s16000/orientalpoppy.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Poppy is another volunteer. She just showed up, one day, and said: I like it here!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>I quit after my supervisor insulted me by calling me a flea. <i>Hummingbirds are 'impatient.' Couldn't you have used that as an example?</i></div><div><br /></div><div>I quit. Started my own company. Stole his biggest account. <i>But… not…. intentionally</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GpWCiwTMjwbwULhYQjmmUIImIc8m5Oj-Q8K_EHQXZT_DvIgMq9gPli1tnECKWd2lOYZ8Ddp8IUSfKUACpiMO2yWxJ8SbSdaLsgtU6zj67rfD_AfXTUgMkZFRl994Rlg5dY1Tjpda9VGR4VFW5p2g-QvvHu94c4XD3IgIYbHh4cN18izplgQH/s800/b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9GpWCiwTMjwbwULhYQjmmUIImIc8m5Oj-Q8K_EHQXZT_DvIgMq9gPli1tnECKWd2lOYZ8Ddp8IUSfKUACpiMO2yWxJ8SbSdaLsgtU6zj67rfD_AfXTUgMkZFRl994Rlg5dY1Tjpda9VGR4VFW5p2g-QvvHu94c4XD3IgIYbHh4cN18izplgQH/s16000/b.jpg" /></a></div><br />Had barely figured what to call this company I decided to start, when my old boss’s biggest client called me asking if I was in business. </div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>Um. Yes.</i> I proudly <strike>claimed</strike>. Lied. Wondering how quickly I could purchase a desk, and a new laptop and possibly hire someone to upgrade the wireless. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Great,</i> she says. <i>We have so many projects and none of them are getting done fast enough. We’d like to hire you to make this happen. </i></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtE9ZxLTWDmJRyY1cud_wOpKGLtDwjbTGfYV4RaCySrDK4LD3rRH1PyrSsyzLKIww_mAq2De_TmaDWeM78XR2fvVC6ZVMJJQzpTvTKHBHZ9hRahOHn73C-jACtNBe4UYvsWakprQHOn7OG0Ufvlf-8wHS2OAPFK-Izs8m2PvbaLRmV8v3NKp2R/s945/snowball.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtE9ZxLTWDmJRyY1cud_wOpKGLtDwjbTGfYV4RaCySrDK4LD3rRH1PyrSsyzLKIww_mAq2De_TmaDWeM78XR2fvVC6ZVMJJQzpTvTKHBHZ9hRahOHn73C-jACtNBe4UYvsWakprQHOn7OG0Ufvlf-8wHS2OAPFK-Izs8m2PvbaLRmV8v3NKp2R/s16000/snowball.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Snowball shrub was an impulse purchase. <br />We had 38 feel of snow last winter, nobody needs to see any more white.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Here’s the irrefutable truth about impatient people. <i>We get shit done</i>. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like this morning. When I stepped outside at dawn and played in the gardens for six blissful hours. Couldn't believe I was out there that long. The time just flew by. </div><div><br /></div><div>And yes. I freely admit. I've experienced many exasperated, impatient, moments when I stood in front of my flowers and irrationally screamed: Grow dammit! </div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbggQ7ZrpzJCNdIvqcyV5i-mrEQ1RdXTIMw_2w5EtYu0nLmlzYrR8JoLirTKBuUEup8yB7hYhui8IHFGJLSsq5DrQzytcZpPrxYhP9t6VYjfjXron0VcC_nTf_26-CGW1WUeQA9TLfvyJt_WlWeQWhSdseQd6kMQqjLIoSfyfCgMqOIzA4hV7/s800/brunnera.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBbggQ7ZrpzJCNdIvqcyV5i-mrEQ1RdXTIMw_2w5EtYu0nLmlzYrR8JoLirTKBuUEup8yB7hYhui8IHFGJLSsq5DrQzytcZpPrxYhP9t6VYjfjXron0VcC_nTf_26-CGW1WUeQA9TLfvyJt_WlWeQWhSdseQd6kMQqjLIoSfyfCgMqOIzA4hV7/s16000/brunnera.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brunnera is a shade lover. Tiny blossoms about 1/4 inch diameter.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>But now that the gardens are fully grown, I step back, calm down, and think to myself: <i>The waiting was the only hard part. </i></div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RHKuBkDDoGSJd9-4RtzFa5ZaQgtGQNMkYj55mL_d9G2ek6Xtd6MocPJNl9RgPvkZ3hARuC6GqL7fk6JdXXsQMOG0aN48yNRWR7JobTZcxa23LSIxWCGfbJQufzE-1w3iNXGO6nVuLtqN9mQYzCNZnKsaakgq_6ft-c_B4pUa6vFyRFmqroWH/s800/bluewildflower.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="559" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3RHKuBkDDoGSJd9-4RtzFa5ZaQgtGQNMkYj55mL_d9G2ek6Xtd6MocPJNl9RgPvkZ3hARuC6GqL7fk6JdXXsQMOG0aN48yNRWR7JobTZcxa23LSIxWCGfbJQufzE-1w3iNXGO6nVuLtqN9mQYzCNZnKsaakgq_6ft-c_B4pUa6vFyRFmqroWH/s16000/bluewildflower.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sort of looks like a Brunnera (upper photo) doesn't it?<br />It's actually a wildflower that enjoys full sun in my backyard. Not sure the name.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Thinking about patience and people because I said my final goodbye, last Tuesday, to my last freelance client. </div><div><br /></div><div>I resigned all my freelance accounts last year. Time to retire. These people move very slowly. Six months later, we had a lovely goodbye; he was always my favorite - I worked with him for 20 years. And I think that’s because I always believed at some point he might change. Even though it's a well-documented fact that people never change.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPC_R3iJIux4SRGpSdXnT_XWZW-RBuIlPFqOKKh7v5WX6bj3OvKyoKoy_IiqQaBuZf8XFrtmFy0arNnVZQMFpygohMxsXoGhURXYrYoqwRnixDjaaKqEKATMJ_EjuNK7cTwDUWlLowAf_TWvtA-2n-ffkz5L4vvAsy87OEkH6e5QFfOCYPTVX2/s800/wildiris.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPC_R3iJIux4SRGpSdXnT_XWZW-RBuIlPFqOKKh7v5WX6bj3OvKyoKoy_IiqQaBuZf8XFrtmFy0arNnVZQMFpygohMxsXoGhURXYrYoqwRnixDjaaKqEKATMJ_EjuNK7cTwDUWlLowAf_TWvtA-2n-ffkz5L4vvAsy87OEkH6e5QFfOCYPTVX2/s16000/wildiris.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wild Iris</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>During our last conversation he said: “We will be [insert title of project that will never happen here] and it’s too bad you can’t be part of that.” </div><div><br /></div><div><i>But… but… I was part of that! At least I tried to be! When I recommended that you do that. Three years ago.</i></div><div><div><br /></div><div>Impatient people get a bad rap. [I'm mostly just saying that because I am one.] </div><div><br /></div><div>Anxious to do whatever it is that needs doing… we often make other people feel lazy. And sometimes crazy. Because we keep asking: Have you done that yet?? What are you waiting for??</div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztWUHUwP-0wNEeNc2FAMI2UNtZGOX8rinJfnn8tsYkArRoFBwFNa8xXkp81AgzkRb7ehuZ2IsxqbpxcLEScaauu23jWwhNvAuSLB2EPF3bOjLsB7EVc88hPY3i_1w0qTXpcaB7wXKaPQQSp9WQhXwsSLFti63I4iMkuBIukuwHOFJCXB1WeGi/s800/themeadow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhztWUHUwP-0wNEeNc2FAMI2UNtZGOX8rinJfnn8tsYkArRoFBwFNa8xXkp81AgzkRb7ehuZ2IsxqbpxcLEScaauu23jWwhNvAuSLB2EPF3bOjLsB7EVc88hPY3i_1w0qTXpcaB7wXKaPQQSp9WQhXwsSLFti63I4iMkuBIukuwHOFJCXB1WeGi/s16000/themeadow.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>I can tell you what I've been waiting for. For a very long time. A simple summer day. And it's finally here. </div><div><br /></div><div>Summer arrives very slowly - at this elevation, in the mountains. But it is always worth the wait.</div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-38725370408547977822023-06-04T13:33:00.013-06:002023-06-05T11:40:25.090-06:00Let's Take a Walk<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduZq8BbJeLr8cNSiJIS1d8LhvDQ3O7uM4teAEMY0VoVFpNqiI6Noa3gytwnqis_aLe9p1iHPwH2JcpGydzUFW1i-RtbLvC7GCVxjpM-oul5Bts4KyLMg1lF_BGx37khRYfFkfaROviTNkSYuYx7iyW30zLRGlrTptF07uuDIGndXJ7YIHmw/s1067/pear1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgduZq8BbJeLr8cNSiJIS1d8LhvDQ3O7uM4teAEMY0VoVFpNqiI6Noa3gytwnqis_aLe9p1iHPwH2JcpGydzUFW1i-RtbLvC7GCVxjpM-oul5Bts4KyLMg1lF_BGx37khRYfFkfaROviTNkSYuYx7iyW30zLRGlrTptF07uuDIGndXJ7YIHmw/s16000/pear1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pear Trees</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Spring has finally arrived in the mountains. Not completely, the furnace is still on. And those April showers - that can't seem to figure out it's June, now, - are still foiling our plans to truly take a walk...<p></p><p>But it is most definitely springtime. <i>My trees told me so.</i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLP5V0IfWtPzlBcWLbBoffevQFamiFPwwfJqJDP-43trTMK26X7lWaaKg5HyuNnbMV5qDX9wlVgA79Q-7SROBh905YBWbXtoyvQrmIUpJiisDI2SdikEewsUB23FEgzkbXGbhjdnONiclpyR6f5eYPVqz1lhJ4hwZHRTz9ynbYrhhUHH3Lw/s837/lilac-petal-pink.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="837" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLP5V0IfWtPzlBcWLbBoffevQFamiFPwwfJqJDP-43trTMK26X7lWaaKg5HyuNnbMV5qDX9wlVgA79Q-7SROBh905YBWbXtoyvQrmIUpJiisDI2SdikEewsUB23FEgzkbXGbhjdnONiclpyR6f5eYPVqz1lhJ4hwZHRTz9ynbYrhhUHH3Lw/s16000/lilac-petal-pink.jpg" /></a></div><p>Spring - it is such a lovely time of the year. I often wonder why we make our resolutions on New Years. When it's cold and snowy and the most creative thing we can come up with is maybe joining a health club or going on a diet. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTH8JNlGIEEXvxrZkgDCeMgkPjsOzGwg3hLCxoXWHV5hGMRcDqrxy9AFTTE-3awoZ2PViTZ6AMrrL-pENBDn1svFTmEe7AX-8tyDIuEQPqf0AyD5bhC8YGK-YILM1wvLSf-bik3IOcMADS0_biJU-R5pgoIVoNZqEvKUjUYAfxcYigdo8QPQ/s800/lilac-blue.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="711" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTH8JNlGIEEXvxrZkgDCeMgkPjsOzGwg3hLCxoXWHV5hGMRcDqrxy9AFTTE-3awoZ2PViTZ6AMrrL-pENBDn1svFTmEe7AX-8tyDIuEQPqf0AyD5bhC8YGK-YILM1wvLSf-bik3IOcMADS0_biJU-R5pgoIVoNZqEvKUjUYAfxcYigdo8QPQ/s16000/lilac-blue.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">They bud pink; they flower blue, I don't know who they are but this Lilac is my favorite.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>It's these beautiful Spring days, this rebirth and renewal change of season, that inspires me to pop a bottle of champagne and celebrate. When the gardens begin to bloom once again. And we see how all our flowering friends survived.</p><p>Plus. The second the snow melts you're working like a fiend out in those gardens. Who needs a Peloton bike when you've got that going on?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimN1yzkruqIHe6z_0SKPAminpYML3TLsDxY1fBEAWBttvXFqEztZ_vjA1C1Yt6Gwowbbu4U0HQXogLmB8MdS-PEG0K_rvVkyL0OuZjR7xr01WKcVNhEYpMU1M9o45asQa78E5UkQNW8l-asuPxFf4gKoTlue6ZF5dMguSQgcWr0F1v0UaBOw/s800/meadow.phlox.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimN1yzkruqIHe6z_0SKPAminpYML3TLsDxY1fBEAWBttvXFqEztZ_vjA1C1Yt6Gwowbbu4U0HQXogLmB8MdS-PEG0K_rvVkyL0OuZjR7xr01WKcVNhEYpMU1M9o45asQa78E5UkQNW8l-asuPxFf4gKoTlue6ZF5dMguSQgcWr0F1v0UaBOw/s16000/meadow.phlox.1.jpg" /></a></div><p>There's a 'super bloom' happening in the horse pasture. Meadow Phlox is so dainty, it's hard to photograph the drifts of petal pink, so here's a close up.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Ds3Ef6ZP3yb5UXGBUCoYToEiffm-sDwN4On8Hu9t9x4dDmwe5JkbLd15AXiGMe9gEPSy_V_Vick4Clj16MLsDy8Ac4_P3U_PK5IR6QS1oZxpM8zdcSMfcf7bfkrizgyhzg_XuFr2R3xxjSA7kPum2dR8DV3DIzO8f4p61BNDEbq-D0tBEA/s800/yellow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1Ds3Ef6ZP3yb5UXGBUCoYToEiffm-sDwN4On8Hu9t9x4dDmwe5JkbLd15AXiGMe9gEPSy_V_Vick4Clj16MLsDy8Ac4_P3U_PK5IR6QS1oZxpM8zdcSMfcf7bfkrizgyhzg_XuFr2R3xxjSA7kPum2dR8DV3DIzO8f4p61BNDEbq-D0tBEA/s16000/yellow.jpg" /></a></div><p>This wildflower might be called a Biscuitroot - not sure. I don't plant wildflowers back there. </p><p>Sable does! </p><p>You're not supposed to pick wildflowers but the horse doesn't know that. She eats the flowers, and later, deposits seeds back into the pasture, creating her own, magnificent, garden.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjXhM9M4BnzWYqYsmN_gsLvJg_XTqLg3aOrowxL140xxu00ZIqJ2Anc3kLvrWHOocfD5P3lzgJSSEH8SfTpg0ZtxIHNuyeJPJTtoG9QLLDTvS-qeBya3ePvqJ3MScoHHyw_iklTlB1Y1JVCcGffoXvAOr6zbTwLTunUOZguY_xqoRuJnL0w/s901/sable.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="901" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipjXhM9M4BnzWYqYsmN_gsLvJg_XTqLg3aOrowxL140xxu00ZIqJ2Anc3kLvrWHOocfD5P3lzgJSSEH8SfTpg0ZtxIHNuyeJPJTtoG9QLLDTvS-qeBya3ePvqJ3MScoHHyw_iklTlB1Y1JVCcGffoXvAOr6zbTwLTunUOZguY_xqoRuJnL0w/s16000/sable.jpg" /></a></div><p>We have a lot of short-sighted new residents in Park City, now, who complain that horses 'poop' on the trails. <i>But your dog poops on the trails and nothing good ever comes from that.</i> Horses are vegetarians. As are deer and elk and moose. Our stunning wildflower trails do not come from you and your destructive mountain bike. We can thank the vegetarians and the birds for this glorious show. It might be nice if you people would shut up about that.</p><p><i>Okay. Fine.</i> I'll stop complaining about my new neighbors. Let's keep walking through the gardens...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAZ1LCxTwrIf-Aeue0e1kdgDWiXSG8YaNpb2uSaJ9mcUNk3LVjQsgKIxN1ssaN1v25Szhmetfp9K6ae3qGDnckPwBmtHsNKskMfQLwYi-uINJHSRyhfRbnn8RIF084kdHeQflXVrsqWGxKGTeZCns-3oVUDKSnQxvIa5_ziKo1knko_2eeQ/s807/currant.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="807" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMAZ1LCxTwrIf-Aeue0e1kdgDWiXSG8YaNpb2uSaJ9mcUNk3LVjQsgKIxN1ssaN1v25Szhmetfp9K6ae3qGDnckPwBmtHsNKskMfQLwYi-uINJHSRyhfRbnn8RIF084kdHeQflXVrsqWGxKGTeZCns-3oVUDKSnQxvIa5_ziKo1knko_2eeQ/s16000/currant.jpg" /></a></div><p>Golden Currants attract tons of songbirds. Makes a wonderful chutney.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeT6QN0wM4AQXq7KBKBbYaAqyG_ktXZ-EzS3OaJk7W9Ng1-ByHivjMnqbbe1GpTUsj0R8atEpeV3YbnSKevzuWlXI0lyJqoyCPEOvk_Xn9AroR-4l_vRrdZzZ7jvToO_LwYRDnuBuxHPRELuS6k447QtQOMFt__BHIiBYI4B1Cyt7cRosa8A/s1067/cushionspurge1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeT6QN0wM4AQXq7KBKBbYaAqyG_ktXZ-EzS3OaJk7W9Ng1-ByHivjMnqbbe1GpTUsj0R8atEpeV3YbnSKevzuWlXI0lyJqoyCPEOvk_Xn9AroR-4l_vRrdZzZ7jvToO_LwYRDnuBuxHPRELuS6k447QtQOMFt__BHIiBYI4B1Cyt7cRosa8A/s16000/cushionspurge1.jpg" /></a></div><p>No animals are attracted to Cushion Spurge, [which is kind of why I plant it!] These happy yellow blossoms are some of the first flowers to bloom every spring.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzN9mJfYAcHXdB8XloGVfZv7BaGrwxdEid0KWHJCqqq2F_2NHZlaavsHKCL4FUpe9mXDg7WFKxn2Hc5gjAumcxtQOGS4poZD_oBXjSfJUigIMUqfeWveTtrROOUnT-YMJpKgliyf_uy-M_aeV3A59BFWg_oCld1XfIao1SWFXnnOnrJzzPQ/s800/bridalviel.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqzN9mJfYAcHXdB8XloGVfZv7BaGrwxdEid0KWHJCqqq2F_2NHZlaavsHKCL4FUpe9mXDg7WFKxn2Hc5gjAumcxtQOGS4poZD_oBXjSfJUigIMUqfeWveTtrROOUnT-YMJpKgliyf_uy-M_aeV3A59BFWg_oCld1XfIao1SWFXnnOnrJzzPQ/s16000/bridalviel.jpg" /></a></div><p>The Bridal Veil is just getting started.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN8BeAA2SGmay_avJHTcH-aA_tcOyCoHY2ZwBcuo71cRcw2FPbgKTVj-FhfoqeoGW3MPH9kf_SIE--175mLis9dy1YHSEcVsC8rCZ3nI-VX4wtvdDmhsFxtvXHXqRGtY10YVGnV2MR04jUTRWbR7JMuQDQ5XVPT8XCgHFWbR_BFrca8-EVRg/s1067/plum.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN8BeAA2SGmay_avJHTcH-aA_tcOyCoHY2ZwBcuo71cRcw2FPbgKTVj-FhfoqeoGW3MPH9kf_SIE--175mLis9dy1YHSEcVsC8rCZ3nI-VX4wtvdDmhsFxtvXHXqRGtY10YVGnV2MR04jUTRWbR7JMuQDQ5XVPT8XCgHFWbR_BFrca8-EVRg/s16000/plum.jpg" /></a></div><p>The Newport Plum is almost done.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSnluOBdVrBi13xfQqygRPnlgCsf-V6FWa3ewcUrrlN-VVTOo_p25H8I6tbdGtcQxka2vwQo910T5UvFyVTc7-scIfiHnUNXR82XLWen1dmCq9sd0CW6TUIE1CwQUdM5xcurcOzMkEiwWuU1tzpcYTcb7276qb6GmhHEXeZRE1izPdbLQ7Q/s1067/crabapple.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeSnluOBdVrBi13xfQqygRPnlgCsf-V6FWa3ewcUrrlN-VVTOo_p25H8I6tbdGtcQxka2vwQo910T5UvFyVTc7-scIfiHnUNXR82XLWen1dmCq9sd0CW6TUIE1CwQUdM5xcurcOzMkEiwWuU1tzpcYTcb7276qb6GmhHEXeZRE1izPdbLQ7Q/s16000/crabapple.jpg" /></a></div><p>High winds are making short work of the Crabby Apple trees. It's sort of 'snowing' white petals this afternoon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnx-2IHzFLUJcTfZS-BQckuMgkQb8_8e9aJe2NjgPLxo8X8qH_7-Jn4WUquK8-IURtjWsqBMeX_cym0CwnFb_t8JXKc40y1TXF7XLcaUQ4YY3vCNUDCnHxwgviDE5LHF3VQbqVBIIroC4v87A1VxiLFGA7K0VdVhw5Z6eGF_uLhgP9FGHGw/s800/allium2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="529" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAnx-2IHzFLUJcTfZS-BQckuMgkQb8_8e9aJe2NjgPLxo8X8qH_7-Jn4WUquK8-IURtjWsqBMeX_cym0CwnFb_t8JXKc40y1TXF7XLcaUQ4YY3vCNUDCnHxwgviDE5LHF3VQbqVBIIroC4v87A1VxiLFGA7K0VdVhw5Z6eGF_uLhgP9FGHGw/s16000/allium2.jpg" /></a></div><p>Perhaps my insanely alkaline soil is the reason my dark purple Allium has evolved into precious pink beauties.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQLRf1QDBT1IkxZ112kjoQqsaiOTD0knAKPt0dVziuLSrC4E9s7PvgG9lWXNoUAM9m0Z2ks0SHk-ZNJH6iJ4TaBiWlBCS-_5oAVzNwvFjP8qMW8pR15AXb68GxMI0YACKH2gGSGPNirvAUog3eZ3AUx9Z2GfAGlX82KK3RJffhjUIMat3fQ/s800/bleedingheart1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="508" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSQLRf1QDBT1IkxZ112kjoQqsaiOTD0knAKPt0dVziuLSrC4E9s7PvgG9lWXNoUAM9m0Z2ks0SHk-ZNJH6iJ4TaBiWlBCS-_5oAVzNwvFjP8qMW8pR15AXb68GxMI0YACKH2gGSGPNirvAUog3eZ3AUx9Z2GfAGlX82KK3RJffhjUIMat3fQ/s16000/bleedingheart1.jpg" /></a></div><p>Bleeding Hearts have no business blooming this early but who am I to complain? </p><p>Did you know Bleeding Hearts can handle -40(F) degrees? Zone 3. I'm zone 6 - they're very happy we don't live in Alaska. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EwoF7BhH262w5fCOLwR5WGY5ygZaYeus_rj-zojBQxOCcof1FXSBuCUfai2fYkawVcuQQcdBO9Rg0P7YU3MCvlrDscusfMprX9u2tkb_pqUZ7fnA026qIqEQdHZ0-sRQEpGzNbprrFNVcjOcNkJLjl4Cj6wmYDNnrS-MLL-kjiyZBrDDvQ/s1067/lilac-pink.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9EwoF7BhH262w5fCOLwR5WGY5ygZaYeus_rj-zojBQxOCcof1FXSBuCUfai2fYkawVcuQQcdBO9Rg0P7YU3MCvlrDscusfMprX9u2tkb_pqUZ7fnA026qIqEQdHZ0-sRQEpGzNbprrFNVcjOcNkJLjl4Cj6wmYDNnrS-MLL-kjiyZBrDDvQ/s16000/lilac-pink.jpg" /></a></div><p>The scent of various Lilacs waft through the open window. That lovely fragrance is really the only saving grace with these daily afternoon rains. I mean. If you have to rain every day. Couldn't you do that at night while we're sleeping?</p><p>Anyhoo. That's what's blooming in my neck of the woods. Now isn't this 'walking exercise' a whole lot more fun than a treadmill at the gym? No need to thank me. 😊</p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-25513896389149425952023-05-23T08:56:00.012-06:002023-05-23T13:44:00.540-06:00The Bulb Festival<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgvO8R6rJcgOMkGN-xutQ7TN9qNkxcx7rjUQm6BAgGZtsfmVcMeYtHeZKfz9hVujNDcpICHh7caNlgTqBDu92S2kSOtx6s2xV8g-KjpFE7JG8loWdN7e1ygi_hnZGEvr_bhqjuEBE3ZlO__2dsUCDaAQXFdFotG1k3iJhSH4pFBXwSMlXog/s828/d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="828" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWgvO8R6rJcgOMkGN-xutQ7TN9qNkxcx7rjUQm6BAgGZtsfmVcMeYtHeZKfz9hVujNDcpICHh7caNlgTqBDu92S2kSOtx6s2xV8g-KjpFE7JG8loWdN7e1ygi_hnZGEvr_bhqjuEBE3ZlO__2dsUCDaAQXFdFotG1k3iJhSH4pFBXwSMlXog/s16000/d.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Plopped down in my morning coffee spot, massaging sore muscles, contemplating the last 27 things to do on my spring cleanup of the gardens. Hoping to get all creative and stuff. Surely I could invent a good reason not to do any of that today. </div><div><br /></div><div>When a woman ran past the front of my house in a wedding dress. </div><div><br /></div><div>Screaming: Wheee! To the cars passing by, honking their horns.
Jumped up, took a look around, hoping to see another runaway bride. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpaEGKuHVPYHXxYGUFV_vRt0g5ItHwamikgcMUSrQbMQp-INT_bsYSGOuQYfwuKhdiEvX_r22aNpPvBtWEcbcRuV3-u6MQuAndyo_OS9Tkk3vlhbephD9ah5WAgiKeiCTUk0-kpsHECR0VQq62jwgVUnDGu8sIQoYKhmYpAS3g0fuxC2MvA/s800/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpaEGKuHVPYHXxYGUFV_vRt0g5ItHwamikgcMUSrQbMQp-INT_bsYSGOuQYfwuKhdiEvX_r22aNpPvBtWEcbcRuV3-u6MQuAndyo_OS9Tkk3vlhbephD9ah5WAgiKeiCTUk0-kpsHECR0VQq62jwgVUnDGu8sIQoYKhmYpAS3g0fuxC2MvA/s16000/1.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>My cute town does not have an overabundance of runaway brides. It’s Running With Ed weekend. A 26-mile relay race, to benefit local schools. </div><div><br /></div><div>Lots of people happily running a marathon - many in costumes. Didn’t realize that May is almost over until I saw the sprinting bride. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXrRnBmluooNPnrT5_y12wzNp8TIEyUW0OyRrEoYhxForKxAnMIzEH_qMzcAE0C3YtXhJZLgqdfPF8qPexRuLY0pbGJlO-sH459XftlafFyk22nUWQIE3Qp6OaE-i0HraClo4FUT1_FkgCcdLSFpsGa-FlqcUY2hK-TRO0aTkcd_PpPRkcA/s995/f-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="995" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLXrRnBmluooNPnrT5_y12wzNp8TIEyUW0OyRrEoYhxForKxAnMIzEH_qMzcAE0C3YtXhJZLgqdfPF8qPexRuLY0pbGJlO-sH459XftlafFyk22nUWQIE3Qp6OaE-i0HraClo4FUT1_FkgCcdLSFpsGa-FlqcUY2hK-TRO0aTkcd_PpPRkcA/s16000/f-2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>The race became my really good excuse. To not do any more hard gardening work. To sit there and clap and cheer <i>and wonder why most of those runners were smiling. </i></div><div><br /></div><div>It's always a curiosity to me. Who in their right mind would willingly run 26 miles? I wouldn't do that. Even if zombies were chasing me.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ-WjoD4fD_rkeXCszWPOIGFa_ThuIMxaz5k7xtDglxrDEs6nS4_Jm4Gdd9AhbvCgIYi_1R1xCmjvLK3FDim1GExLblbOVSVCMnCmcQOgcpuVUePwD-rDkD0SSTkq9bQQE1jwwzylbaz6Y_6sOuxPG5TEP9Nt1bUVZOiP2hVhWrbEhVcV6w/s800/3.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZ-WjoD4fD_rkeXCszWPOIGFa_ThuIMxaz5k7xtDglxrDEs6nS4_Jm4Gdd9AhbvCgIYi_1R1xCmjvLK3FDim1GExLblbOVSVCMnCmcQOgcpuVUePwD-rDkD0SSTkq9bQQE1jwwzylbaz6Y_6sOuxPG5TEP9Nt1bUVZOiP2hVhWrbEhVcV6w/s16000/3.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;">But I'm nearly finished with a marathon of my own making. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Raking and weeding and planting and mowing. Spring clean up is hard, hard work. Taxing muscles that spent a whole lotta time reading books during the long, cold winter.</div></span></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtbsrmBPchufmnH8sx8yOOxe7YYLwJPhIy-4rWNIkQSAEC-fT-80_G25X_t7F-KVbBo4BoSdQIgJgT09k_9njvBW9KWmj1HA5-tHy1iLoGppQi3LvfYH7ZWn_xIyPPB6WMZsUTX786odeyUUTQtZdYEfyiSKajqXRas_yfZ8BsN1aZqhhfQ/s800/8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="703" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFtbsrmBPchufmnH8sx8yOOxe7YYLwJPhIy-4rWNIkQSAEC-fT-80_G25X_t7F-KVbBo4BoSdQIgJgT09k_9njvBW9KWmj1HA5-tHy1iLoGppQi3LvfYH7ZWn_xIyPPB6WMZsUTX786odeyUUTQtZdYEfyiSKajqXRas_yfZ8BsN1aZqhhfQ/s16000/8.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Maybe that's what they mean. When people say: Pick Your Poison. </div><div><br /></div><div>If you find a passion, it feels like fun, even when it’s backbreaking labor. Or. It feels like fun right up until the day you rip off that wedding dress and say: I don’t wanna do this anymore. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which is what I did. When I ran out of steam and hired a landscaping service to collect all the broken tree limbs and other stuff I raked from the garden beds. <i>The guys removed an entire flatbed trailer of debris. </i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaghbCLEP6RLWw6frbks4yybP2Mq1m19wZVh3CTu6HGNo_KcDpBlzNvPw19yrgvQE4bntItzDvDAJoIr6k4SOfg4TYW4Aj0zgWvzdkTX7vxFokzHEs_FlQh6tXBxCqAZJH_zZb2gUoTqOALsn7qUP2zOFM9rUUnOfo-PIASEAY-gfo8HkWg/s800/10.2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="632" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhaghbCLEP6RLWw6frbks4yybP2Mq1m19wZVh3CTu6HGNo_KcDpBlzNvPw19yrgvQE4bntItzDvDAJoIr6k4SOfg4TYW4Aj0zgWvzdkTX7vxFokzHEs_FlQh6tXBxCqAZJH_zZb2gUoTqOALsn7qUP2zOFM9rUUnOfo-PIASEAY-gfo8HkWg/s16000/10.2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>May, in the mountains, is always known as Mud Month. Once the snow melts. After our epic winter with 400+ inches of snow, we're dealing with some serious mud!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9luR7vnuYRUbaRpEDETgvwaDm2hk3OV630oGxpzvler44ZPvHKqqT4KJHHlw7WiE-SX4jFo9dzv8MIc3xxJSCmS0fTYcKIJqO0v3B9RujqdveOimdCI-dhEWaeKOkpcqD3s0_orM3B8PIOVxoRJYOjbo3uvuqyosx1LysqRLZUnKs4vZbiw/s1067/2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9luR7vnuYRUbaRpEDETgvwaDm2hk3OV630oGxpzvler44ZPvHKqqT4KJHHlw7WiE-SX4jFo9dzv8MIc3xxJSCmS0fTYcKIJqO0v3B9RujqdveOimdCI-dhEWaeKOkpcqD3s0_orM3B8PIOVxoRJYOjbo3uvuqyosx1LysqRLZUnKs4vZbiw/s16000/2.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>It's been an exhausting few weeks of playing in that mud. Spring clean up. </div><div><br /></div><div>Some of it heartbreaking, badly damaged fruit trees. The disappearing act of quite a few flower bulbs (ground squirrels gobbled them up.) </div><div><br /></div><div>The Willows are gone. Nibbled right down to the dirt. The moose were starving during this long and difficult winter. It's fine by me. Happy to donate Willows to this worthy cause. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgHv3WcVoXXkhV4K-B08US3WJe3N7XXkKAeFc3a6D-9sKSlUlb0BjE5CEoaxwMzZMcjno76a9UwpFHlSP_QICSk8aSkDrwZ8nwvtmr358RXXSU6TD51QouiasafZnXmZVd7WK6fSyy6TkoXo2Zct650VjYaHeYpyYXN7pU_Cys5U1W88SCQ/s1067/f.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtgHv3WcVoXXkhV4K-B08US3WJe3N7XXkKAeFc3a6D-9sKSlUlb0BjE5CEoaxwMzZMcjno76a9UwpFHlSP_QICSk8aSkDrwZ8nwvtmr358RXXSU6TD51QouiasafZnXmZVd7WK6fSyy6TkoXo2Zct650VjYaHeYpyYXN7pU_Cys5U1W88SCQ/s16000/f.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>During an extreme bout of cabin fever, I decided to spend oodles of money on a completely inappropriate patio set. </div><div><br /></div><div>* If you look real close, you can see the muddy footprints on the white cushions. White. What was I thinking? Dog, Charlie, happily approved of my design.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4RtpFRYhPdtyAkg24acbCX4fsxA2HVmH6eTXguIAfALlVqtAAQM7EAPteHW7wTOK-fa2UFZTd2JRM4SZKGtlkzTiAyKq74QBn27hEb7RcLxI-n4BTGb4fUdJFfNXgE9rt1r1P-kOadD_DikTEa5VqtZQ-WgFrq0OrOdNbJWJcftciJDp3A/s800/1.7.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD4RtpFRYhPdtyAkg24acbCX4fsxA2HVmH6eTXguIAfALlVqtAAQM7EAPteHW7wTOK-fa2UFZTd2JRM4SZKGtlkzTiAyKq74QBn27hEb7RcLxI-n4BTGb4fUdJFfNXgE9rt1r1P-kOadD_DikTEa5VqtZQ-WgFrq0OrOdNbJWJcftciJDp3A/s16000/1.7.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>The gal who published that book, Do What You Love & The Money Will Follow, clearly did not take into consideration a career in gardening. <i>Well.</i> I suppose most people don’t call it a career; they call it a hobby. Some days I call it an obsession. </div><div><br /></div><div>I visit flower festivals and then I want to make my own backyard equally beautiful.</div><div><br /></div><div>Did you know that USA gardeners spend $50 billion dollars a year? I think most of that is me.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZiwKHQtY0LLQkQoSNdzkIMELmr69i2P68S8MTmIGMy9ky6pqNDccvbYw4d5fu5iF5dNcqCmAKAmzuI2AeDzOE1PE74sZyHAoVyZtKGcdDzko2WXS-xShY4xryiCnROsGhsWjeg8gJWHGqTeN9uJmOhjIZYsbTn31ZmVQ_vL6KGjPENWwgQ/s800/13.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFZiwKHQtY0LLQkQoSNdzkIMELmr69i2P68S8MTmIGMy9ky6pqNDccvbYw4d5fu5iF5dNcqCmAKAmzuI2AeDzOE1PE74sZyHAoVyZtKGcdDzko2WXS-xShY4xryiCnROsGhsWjeg8gJWHGqTeN9uJmOhjIZYsbTn31ZmVQ_vL6KGjPENWwgQ/s16000/13.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>I don't love spring cleanup, or weeding, but I do love planting. Digging in the dirt. Shopping for brand new beauties at the local nursery. Always have. </div><div><br /></div><div>Just as soon as I saw I was nearly done with all that hard work, I instantly decided to take on more hard work. :) Placed an order for more waterwise perennials. </div><div><br /></div><div>Because that’s what being a gardener is all about, don’t you think? The power of positive thinking. The belief that this year, oh this year, this flower season is pretty much guaranteed to be marvelous!</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoKf9hWYgwuf0jZws1MVzzhO-pf_2WETdD4XIa7rQb166hT2p9bvyHmm1IHH-EA5KwT5O3fIwwn7y76r_A5QJCl3Oaqh0FEli70modfLUn-1WcK6qfOfVVNgRPwHzduMGbWJtIX5a7rQHMMowQiCEhmWjiX0vuKDELA99KFMrrjPvtYyIRA/s800/netherlands.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkoKf9hWYgwuf0jZws1MVzzhO-pf_2WETdD4XIa7rQb166hT2p9bvyHmm1IHH-EA5KwT5O3fIwwn7y76r_A5QJCl3Oaqh0FEli70modfLUn-1WcK6qfOfVVNgRPwHzduMGbWJtIX5a7rQHMMowQiCEhmWjiX0vuKDELA99KFMrrjPvtYyIRA/s16000/netherlands.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>This Spring has been a little disappointing. Dull grey skies, plentiful rains. As if we needed more moisture after our epic winter snowfall. It’s a miracle anything survived. Including me. </div><div><br /></div><div>So far, my gardens are showing zero enthusiasm toward the merry month of May. </div><div><br /></div><div>Which is why I thought you might enjoy these photos from The Bulb Festival. This last photo could be a dead giveaway, as to where I was ~ when I was tiptoeing thru the Tulips.</div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-14225793743620511712023-04-16T14:53:00.022-06:002023-04-18T09:05:38.677-06:00The Aftermath<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJ8LyN9BBVjPQ5d9TRypLk03m47vL_VDG__7ymF9I1XLLeg9oLz_13QjrOqbSC6nZmSPynjGf9dLCn3DF42AEAdWH33L572-gMky1WfupqBhHSjVvWGtOcFtN8OOcvzLGG5jr0FzDR_n8g_Rh9lquBB9eb1JPuq4fNaI52Ft9DYgliMD2mg/s800/April13-23.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="532" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikJ8LyN9BBVjPQ5d9TRypLk03m47vL_VDG__7ymF9I1XLLeg9oLz_13QjrOqbSC6nZmSPynjGf9dLCn3DF42AEAdWH33L572-gMky1WfupqBhHSjVvWGtOcFtN8OOcvzLGG5jr0FzDR_n8g_Rh9lquBB9eb1JPuq4fNaI52Ft9DYgliMD2mg/s16000/April13-23.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">We’ve been very busy. Watching the snow melt.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Time has this annoying habit of moving on - caring very little about my opinions on the matter. </p><p>Moving quickly when I would much prefer time to stand still. </p><p>Moving at a snail's pace when fast would be good. Great, even. Let's put this long, cold winter behind us. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtQdQfb4yClcRE-E_0QyOWnmV5uEpVM_Ns4jmH8MYgQHNVWmsT59diBM7KR_Y4qbQ_WUxN10kCL7RRDodTuEgizwpK06KZnwFpXb38EF-SgjOG-wfW-HexbDlIGvUqnegnsXzFuvAKJirWSr_ZAKNWtLmZyVlJeLexhXa11Z-XvxjYxOmQg/s1234/p.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1234" data-original-width="800" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGtQdQfb4yClcRE-E_0QyOWnmV5uEpVM_Ns4jmH8MYgQHNVWmsT59diBM7KR_Y4qbQ_WUxN10kCL7RRDodTuEgizwpK06KZnwFpXb38EF-SgjOG-wfW-HexbDlIGvUqnegnsXzFuvAKJirWSr_ZAKNWtLmZyVlJeLexhXa11Z-XvxjYxOmQg/w414-h640/p.png" width="414" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We had 400 inches of snow this winter.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I'm happy to report that Spring has arrived in the mountains. You can hear it with the cheerful serenade of returning songbirds. We’re back! <i>What’s for breakfast? </i></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKBzJLNOj_I-CC2H_K-XAjHftU9m3QwAqwEfyZYCrhC_VjU1fNhG_8U21GNpwVlAfE8f7pFSHLC_LqJMLt9bfl9gjimTLqvSNaOzb_QZpSbMuNkF26FOPbGrn0BofOmzp2TzTiyM7PymyKLeQJ2ruX_RMFgOKO0u76RhmzHJfNAtLeIDWQA/s800/f.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="418" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqKBzJLNOj_I-CC2H_K-XAjHftU9m3QwAqwEfyZYCrhC_VjU1fNhG_8U21GNpwVlAfE8f7pFSHLC_LqJMLt9bfl9gjimTLqvSNaOzb_QZpSbMuNkF26FOPbGrn0BofOmzp2TzTiyM7PymyKLeQJ2ruX_RMFgOKO0u76RhmzHJfNAtLeIDWQA/s16000/f.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Maybe a Finch?</td></tr></tbody></table><p>Even when you’re buried beneath mountains of snow, you can see that Spring has arrived. Feel it. A warmer morning light, a softer, gentler breeze. A kinder angle to the glaring sun. Bluer skies. </p><p>In the ditch, the driest area of the property, tiny green Daffodil shoots are popping up in the mud. Always makes me smile when I see how much growing happens beneath the deep drifts. Snow is a fine insulator. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6h3suQuKA7Tp3vopm91w4mcfnTmvU-X3hIhDthwfVdN6U4I1lF6DT4q6IocfXJsv9igz8Fcy1dMsks98s-CMLrG6VE5p6e2hAV6JkVMOV1qV0NujB7A8KfS_AnBbPjkBXh9RykHCQ4dwcNP_QwwUnvQTf7wZRHaXdz9C_gcjU0InfMPJnBg/s800/theviewfrommywindow.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="478" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6h3suQuKA7Tp3vopm91w4mcfnTmvU-X3hIhDthwfVdN6U4I1lF6DT4q6IocfXJsv9igz8Fcy1dMsks98s-CMLrG6VE5p6e2hAV6JkVMOV1qV0NujB7A8KfS_AnBbPjkBXh9RykHCQ4dwcNP_QwwUnvQTf7wZRHaXdz9C_gcjU0InfMPJnBg/s16000/theviewfrommywindow.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my window. The view from up here.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>You can also tell it's springtime by the “Urgent! Avalanche!" warnings popping up on my phone. [Argh. Will this ever end?] </p><p>And then it did. End, that is.</p><p>Two weeks of exceptionally warm weather, snows rapidly melting. Spring has arrived! As indicated by the new warnings on my phone: “Urgent: Flash Flooding!” </p><p>I'm showing you a picture of my living room ↑ <i>because I am so very proud of this old house</i>. It weathered the plentiful storms. Roofs collapsed, from the weight of the snow, on newer homes, near me. But this place. The oldest house in the neighborhood. Did just fine.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOfltS4_VUyYJGq7zBn5ZXzpMOUiahaPrL_UQoujetKGPiUKk3er5_vyBf2EvpGuWCaau-jmRUE6EdNtwjTJul2AutSQG1ROmVuSGCVcBHwhkU9w_xsLPlzBwIVMo2qHjVRXdSYK4DSL5WVZfqWfUip2vQK5MSsrExCI01LgGEwiRKdK2MQ/s800/chicken.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="700" data-original-width="800" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxOfltS4_VUyYJGq7zBn5ZXzpMOUiahaPrL_UQoujetKGPiUKk3er5_vyBf2EvpGuWCaau-jmRUE6EdNtwjTJul2AutSQG1ROmVuSGCVcBHwhkU9w_xsLPlzBwIVMo2qHjVRXdSYK4DSL5WVZfqWfUip2vQK5MSsrExCI01LgGEwiRKdK2MQ/s320/chicken.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />And, of course, the dog ran away. The most predictable sign of spring. <p></p><p>6-foot fences in our backyards are no match for 15+ feet of snow. Charlie glided easily over the fence and kept on running. Embarking on a life of crime, he returned home with this chicken. - ></p><p>That was the funniest part of this epic snowfall winter. All the neighbors making the same - daily - announcements: Lost dog! Lost dog! </p><p>They're not lost. They're up on the sledding hill, having the time of their lives. </p><p><br /></p><p>So that's what's happening in my neck of the woods. Just sitting around, watching the snow melt. Wondering when, if ever, those Daffodils will start to bloom.</p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-84153632238815677942023-03-26T14:31:00.023-06:002023-03-29T10:59:08.790-06:00Home is where the... snow is.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxk1mOuEQDvqtEXnC_tBGSVuHS-hjxeZrVems4rqQ6WLjVLGQHzDzkE5L1co9uN2I5r2Zev9QreDODganrgVt98T5Ak8rJjNAyUSSQBsc2pXosbR2beJAInAdjoW-BeCPXkAHTLxgq0TRw9sBZSuQDsahrnhDro2SlznUE9ncenu7JgO2_AQ/s1067/purple.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxk1mOuEQDvqtEXnC_tBGSVuHS-hjxeZrVems4rqQ6WLjVLGQHzDzkE5L1co9uN2I5r2Zev9QreDODganrgVt98T5Ak8rJjNAyUSSQBsc2pXosbR2beJAInAdjoW-BeCPXkAHTLxgq0TRw9sBZSuQDsahrnhDro2SlznUE9ncenu7JgO2_AQ/s16000/purple.jpg" /></a></div><p>It melts on this sunny deck but don't let that fool you.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">We have 400 inches of snow. </h4><p>We set that record while I was searching for some sunshine in Arizona. [With zero luck, I might add.] </p><p>It's a lot deeper on the other side of the mountains ~ 5 miles west, as the crow flies. Although crows are way too smart to be hanging around here.</p><p><b>Snowbird has 700 inches of snow. </b>No need to get out the calculator. I did that earlier this morning. I mean it's not like I have anything better to do. I'm stuck indoors. Because it's still snowing. 700 inches = 58 feet of snow. </p><p><i>Snowbird received 5 feet of fresh snow in the last 5 days</i>. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fFARHdG1-rH1wKhETM62JXxCWt_c3j7_4DyxlsUroyezTzduP5qyDp0hLVOLxzLR6OoiIzntdGRJSi26-xNwX95ztJfv-qaFrN65ZKPK03Mo5xzO7FQkbDIXxNhNJ756Ydr6guoz3-ToPxF1ZXR_soReT_2V-nZ1ZSooeWOCJFzJ81SyFg/s984/d-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="984" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9fFARHdG1-rH1wKhETM62JXxCWt_c3j7_4DyxlsUroyezTzduP5qyDp0hLVOLxzLR6OoiIzntdGRJSi26-xNwX95ztJfv-qaFrN65ZKPK03Mo5xzO7FQkbDIXxNhNJ756Ydr6guoz3-ToPxF1ZXR_soReT_2V-nZ1ZSooeWOCJFzJ81SyFg/s16000/d-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Snows have reached the roof level.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>It's snowing sideways right now ~ a bitterly cold wind battering this old house. It's almost April. It should be springtime. Crocus should be blooming. Maybe they are blooming! Do you suppose they do that? Beneath this mountain of snow.</p><p>I imagine you're not the slightest bit interested in my snow report.</p><h4 style="text-align: left;">But I just have one last thing to say: Enough Already! </h4><p>Okay. Two things: I'm glad I don't live in California ~ it's even crazier farther west.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobvHjKpBh7ZlwWgOa8X--eACrAh49EottS0HuSa4OWa8_VH8Fq9HsUc40cXA-MBw7CmsbClFYYiDpdxdPM-EdrsbBl9y2a9owIxorBQb2tBXCwct5fO1PrV2wMwDK-LNLEFZKV6D04_Nx35F1miojOHZCu2lWgSpnnTXg7Wdg0XbUmdy4XQ/s1060/window.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1060" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgobvHjKpBh7ZlwWgOa8X--eACrAh49EottS0HuSa4OWa8_VH8Fq9HsUc40cXA-MBw7CmsbClFYYiDpdxdPM-EdrsbBl9y2a9owIxorBQb2tBXCwct5fO1PrV2wMwDK-LNLEFZKV6D04_Nx35F1miojOHZCu2lWgSpnnTXg7Wdg0XbUmdy4XQ/s16000/window.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Indoors ~ things are a whole lot prettier. Shock of the world... <b>Everybody survived.</b> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">As in all the houseplants left to fend for themselves during the 6 weeks we were gone. </p></blockquote><p>I don't know what possessed me... <i>well, that's not true I know exactly what possessed me</i>. I just hate to see all my little annuals die in the first freak freeze which happened in October. To save them, I dragged one of the outdoor planters indoors for the winter.</p><p>At first I felt kind of foolish. <i>But I gotta tell ya...</i> That planter is keeping me sane. </p><p>It's so nice to have my morning coffee with these pretty little Pansies. ↓</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6fN-Ut-UzG3vTgfSMWlO45YRxTnxFoj-G2j9DZ2l7Y4OKD_cN17WUskVLa6Bv4grNPBUf5Xmz-DW4WayKVaSDGDoL0DP2mlwRrBmyMUCiCkbr1CVL3TMJ3CxpaF1en6PsFvMytLPMUGOC5gMtNpv2DTa7WugKL4F7DJO40D-RLeebPPK9nQ/s800/yellow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6fN-Ut-UzG3vTgfSMWlO45YRxTnxFoj-G2j9DZ2l7Y4OKD_cN17WUskVLa6Bv4grNPBUf5Xmz-DW4WayKVaSDGDoL0DP2mlwRrBmyMUCiCkbr1CVL3TMJ3CxpaF1en6PsFvMytLPMUGOC5gMtNpv2DTa7WugKL4F7DJO40D-RLeebPPK9nQ/s16000/yellow.jpg" /></a></div><p>Geraniums don't know how lucky they are. Rescued from the garden last autumn. ↓</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPWH7CvBuVtHBj8Vjin5m9GM3oQJbc5w_HyKgWFUXk5-eKJk79txP_YSX19xNnisnjvbZuN81IasO_VTQUDEtCVklx08WxAvnE58M5q8TrP1EXs3q2wGumeuPsX5XkPi5oRSHy96H1zfTQVPzVSCUTIZdurRB4OFehEVgw2thEwJjC3FoMQ/s800/red.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="746" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSPWH7CvBuVtHBj8Vjin5m9GM3oQJbc5w_HyKgWFUXk5-eKJk79txP_YSX19xNnisnjvbZuN81IasO_VTQUDEtCVklx08WxAvnE58M5q8TrP1EXs3q2wGumeuPsX5XkPi5oRSHy96H1zfTQVPzVSCUTIZdurRB4OFehEVgw2thEwJjC3FoMQ/s16000/red.jpg" /></a></div><p>Happy little Daisies, planted by seed. ↓</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb1QtWqTAfKPlO-US5LafjNxFcPEEQ0lMlVyZSmGLB8SedT6Evjib5Q5LvCHwuvx_Zg0V0e1veW8PG6ImDX2Eflci-Ioh9l0b5P0eInj1MnMSs3SehBQuFW33Y6Uo3JrNiOfqc5hhpPog0gPW7BzeW0QIO67BA90IcX5EJArkv1aTV0kt6g/s800/pink.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="654" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDb1QtWqTAfKPlO-US5LafjNxFcPEEQ0lMlVyZSmGLB8SedT6Evjib5Q5LvCHwuvx_Zg0V0e1veW8PG6ImDX2Eflci-Ioh9l0b5P0eInj1MnMSs3SehBQuFW33Y6Uo3JrNiOfqc5hhpPog0gPW7BzeW0QIO67BA90IcX5EJArkv1aTV0kt6g/s16000/pink.jpg" /></a></div><p>Easy to grow Kalanchoe. ↓</p><p>Did you know Kalanchoe (K. blossfeldiana) can live for a hundred years? Why yes, indeedy, they do. So stop throwing these grocery-store cuties away. They're perennials. Give them a chance to re-bloom. You'll be glad you did.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6okOjTfO3l-D8mOayYebgvZ08_o7u8lAJaF2tSS-iPUiovZhmVZjkXCJXx8B9cyYcuYnnNlK56UeLNgvwcqM6IVa1OjBqped2rexIuNFyLSaiUrurXCIvzH7ETFH-tWNrpKmQPehe-u2YmOK3if8Qzrw5m_BYOBenrjevqQEKVpky1xN9IA/s831/k.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6okOjTfO3l-D8mOayYebgvZ08_o7u8lAJaF2tSS-iPUiovZhmVZjkXCJXx8B9cyYcuYnnNlK56UeLNgvwcqM6IVa1OjBqped2rexIuNFyLSaiUrurXCIvzH7ETFH-tWNrpKmQPehe-u2YmOK3if8Qzrw5m_BYOBenrjevqQEKVpky1xN9IA/s16000/k.jpg" /></a></div><p>AND! Tulips!! </p><p>I always keep a bag of Tulips in my refrigerator. Force the bulbs indoors for a little bit of Easter color.</p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">√ It's really easy to 'force' Tulip bulbs. You basically take them out of the refrigerator and say: Okay do your thing. They'll flower with or without soil. But, of course, they appreciate a drink of water.</p></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69wHMqgGT1BpsQV11-9NAWUibWIXZWexu6wbYyPtlKxdCS5UjhPxijew1wCEWJYQGsltsg67OJ8QjNWXn7FqzHcyrSTcczblaTadZIfJx6Pm7kxP_4IUfGpstg9145SaIhpSXuKhG28Qx6iyWPvMv-NE6ZHy6F_58cVAcf3cGPAS0k9o6fg/s856/red-yellow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="856" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh69wHMqgGT1BpsQV11-9NAWUibWIXZWexu6wbYyPtlKxdCS5UjhPxijew1wCEWJYQGsltsg67OJ8QjNWXn7FqzHcyrSTcczblaTadZIfJx6Pm7kxP_4IUfGpstg9145SaIhpSXuKhG28Qx6iyWPvMv-NE6ZHy6F_58cVAcf3cGPAS0k9o6fg/s16000/red-yellow.jpg" /></a></div><p>This year, I planted my Tulip bulbs - indoors - in the planter - before I left on vacation. <i>And for once in this gardener's life,</i> these flowers did exactly what they were supposed to do.</p><p>Filled my house with glorious spring colors.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yWXCqi6t4CoDqMhck5WTHLVFXPTck8D_etJZwe-6e6t2rLxylkmXhls4ReGlFu4awNCFTr2gm-LdulFYRkmfsN94GTO_QI71L3oLMvolqUNjT7QAilO8CxPd72deITx3E6FCJCNxRrd8bR5-iQDaL9rGBInB3AH0N3Ozh3NUYLo7WBX7ow/s800/tiger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="660" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5yWXCqi6t4CoDqMhck5WTHLVFXPTck8D_etJZwe-6e6t2rLxylkmXhls4ReGlFu4awNCFTr2gm-LdulFYRkmfsN94GTO_QI71L3oLMvolqUNjT7QAilO8CxPd72deITx3E6FCJCNxRrd8bR5-iQDaL9rGBInB3AH0N3Ozh3NUYLo7WBX7ow/s16000/tiger.jpg" /></a></div><p>It was a pretty wonderful welcome home to see them all blooming.</p><p>After I climbed over the 6-foot snow drift blocking my front door. :)</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfeTr9YzC6DYgnLogzxXk9NNyRZvlE0i4QiOr2TvkqdWTY-TT5po4fR3mvaQNp74u45sHxVG3UA2cPFxpfmrzzetESPDL_9UGbr9uzhwrtUwKzkQSo3IIx9Q9q5a64Vedwce1tDnZqYqaufgit3uvrGRWSeIpvsqA-eqvGSRvSHG3eN__fA/s1067/d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxfeTr9YzC6DYgnLogzxXk9NNyRZvlE0i4QiOr2TvkqdWTY-TT5po4fR3mvaQNp74u45sHxVG3UA2cPFxpfmrzzetESPDL_9UGbr9uzhwrtUwKzkQSo3IIx9Q9q5a64Vedwce1tDnZqYqaufgit3uvrGRWSeIpvsqA-eqvGSRvSHG3eN__fA/s16000/d.jpg" /></a></div><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-67604801166839859612023-03-01T10:46:00.015-07:002023-03-26T15:33:52.957-06:00The I'm Not Kidding Ghost In The Attic<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaW025kOlwJRJEbhoy0PgLBMXOJp8VIm7e1onR-2Rr5DpdbcL-3NZMXjKr_bEFvZYAPng_yni3d7MvQj6beydCqrQz-cmFvDjvGAegLnlZuI_5-7g6GI1RHitfipJQJristxPGB33vISlUp_Dd6mS1EcSI4QQakQBnbMq7uq4qQUh2hh9v2Q/s800/bisbeegarden.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaW025kOlwJRJEbhoy0PgLBMXOJp8VIm7e1onR-2Rr5DpdbcL-3NZMXjKr_bEFvZYAPng_yni3d7MvQj6beydCqrQz-cmFvDjvGAegLnlZuI_5-7g6GI1RHitfipJQJristxPGB33vISlUp_Dd6mS1EcSI4QQakQBnbMq7uq4qQUh2hh9v2Q/s16000/bisbeegarden.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We've driven as far south as we can go - without a passport - and it's still snowing.</td></tr></tbody></table><p style="text-align: center;"><b>↑ 11 miles from the Mexico Border. ↑</b></p><p>When we embarked on this <i>Let's Head South to Warm Up</i>, impromptu road trip, I packed two suitcases. One for hot weather - one for warm weather. Bit the bullet, got a pedicure, prior to my departure. Couldn't hardly wait to put my sandals on.</p><p>Packed three whole items for cold weather. Confident I'd be escaping the snows very, very soon. Been living in a filthy sweatshirt and a pair of dirty jeans for a couple weeks now. The only warm clothes I have. <i>I haven't been warm since we hopped in the car, eager to leave winter far behind.</i></p><p>It makes sense that I'm suffering through a super snowy winter. I live high in the mountains in a ski resort.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3rWgwpNjZG9WqIBR6cJ41RLYfDivJJHw7Ux1Qm5-K67JpQ-q1iyusw38zuZ0eyfSkU9-jOCDwfhGxXBFEZAGbrBAt5T7v3rN4nGrHlktiIS2C55d7rMeRGXn7pDrMpG3DcYvu6C7LtpT1zu576fFO8VAJpESiLUwsc73hl4YBpoENgLyXQ/s800/snow.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="534" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg3rWgwpNjZG9WqIBR6cJ41RLYfDivJJHw7Ux1Qm5-K67JpQ-q1iyusw38zuZ0eyfSkU9-jOCDwfhGxXBFEZAGbrBAt5T7v3rN4nGrHlktiIS2C55d7rMeRGXn7pDrMpG3DcYvu6C7LtpT1zu576fFO8VAJpESiLUwsc73hl4YBpoENgLyXQ/s16000/snow.jpg" /></a></div><p>It does <b>not</b> make sense that <b>the father south we drive, the colder it gets.</b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexr2BaR7jMfSivXbnW7lZq4a33Sk4doyXVu2qn565Xq2MSpTMx2hJp3F0RKDsTIyeexSiXGB5JM2UjKSrS9qIzptEfiBubRauDqHQ_7Cp_nmIJBDrP_WAQnOJjA8I6ffgXVdDIYlTWPMtI5i7NHD4G8VqvXMOb3knNYAE3uw8THE3LYuxSg/s800/t-s.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgexr2BaR7jMfSivXbnW7lZq4a33Sk4doyXVu2qn565Xq2MSpTMx2hJp3F0RKDsTIyeexSiXGB5JM2UjKSrS9qIzptEfiBubRauDqHQ_7Cp_nmIJBDrP_WAQnOJjA8I6ffgXVdDIYlTWPMtI5i7NHD4G8VqvXMOb3knNYAE3uw8THE3LYuxSg/s16000/t-s.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">After departing chilly Sedona, we headed much further south.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Tombstone was a ghost town. Which makes sense ~ seeing as how their biggest attraction is shooting each other every hour, on the hour, at the OK Corral. </p><p>I suppose the lack of tourists stems from the fact that it was so freaking cold there nobody felt like cheering on the Gunslingers. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xNXMUNQ5RJRZig3AZ7_8rB6GJ2WmdCiyGgbgipY3zojYMw9HrXbX727XaRYXtIVQLxB6QRFjh1wx4EaYBi3GeQVIheDL703MCN1OPZq2TGrf0iVF2HHzDmeI8u4kpedIEqJmqkov6lacwefdBspDmJn3vGlzKo9H2yLm8tlNVq-BqcoDnA/s800/b-street.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="530" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7xNXMUNQ5RJRZig3AZ7_8rB6GJ2WmdCiyGgbgipY3zojYMw9HrXbX727XaRYXtIVQLxB6QRFjh1wx4EaYBi3GeQVIheDL703MCN1OPZq2TGrf0iVF2HHzDmeI8u4kpedIEqJmqkov6lacwefdBspDmJn3vGlzKo9H2yLm8tlNVq-BqcoDnA/s16000/b-street.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">This is a major thoroughfare </span><i style="text-align: left;">and a two-way street</i><span style="text-align: left;">.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>From Tombstone, we headed farther south, to Bisbee. <span style="text-align: center;">We were lost the whole time we were there. </span>I'm still laughing that it took us 30 minutes to find a restaurant that was only 1/2 mile away! </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">* FYI ~ once we did find Cafe Roka (sign in the photo - I think I hold the Guinness Book of World Records for u-turns, while on vacation) it was the best meal I've ever enjoyed.</p></blockquote><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzTJnfdq48R2D22-ttYKvGn6I9JkevpgKQD1KFPY4sfBcQks1WJf8ZNvKe6162ZEKQSUYmVN9uns118A0p-WdFfe2vLhgt84W75acu-CDFwGLRaJobanpKgEXAcBYet4Y2F23nH7W7SAkrKxStp6-pu_7Z-VxDCyB8YNtmWWbsnS51uVYCw/s800/b.2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqzTJnfdq48R2D22-ttYKvGn6I9JkevpgKQD1KFPY4sfBcQks1WJf8ZNvKe6162ZEKQSUYmVN9uns118A0p-WdFfe2vLhgt84W75acu-CDFwGLRaJobanpKgEXAcBYet4Y2F23nH7W7SAkrKxStp6-pu_7Z-VxDCyB8YNtmWWbsnS51uVYCw/s16000/b.2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The town gets much prettier when you drive around the corner. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Bisbee is an eccentric, artsy, <i>ghost-loving</i> community. Which sounded like kind of a crazy claim to fame. Oh, lookee there! Isn't that cute? I thought to myself, when I saw that Bisbee was listed as <a href="https://www.visitarizona.com/like-a-local/haunted-arizona/">one of the most haunted places in Arizona</a>.</p><p>We came to stay at this lovely 100 year old mansion. ↓</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTo1nlWEjN0EzXXOZyYwAprClfAYhAmaRIWXOJPp1I0KMwwVBQtrpMT-ND0H3jvtE--4LV1MLH22Hn7f48pvPPV4_POvbBEwtltLTXbboCXyErkVAzjhCU2UUnsXZjFhceowBbZVr5GkECLak3lvl6OOHAJN7B3V43PNacFqa8hPrJ9vofpQ/s800/bisbee.rental.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTo1nlWEjN0EzXXOZyYwAprClfAYhAmaRIWXOJPp1I0KMwwVBQtrpMT-ND0H3jvtE--4LV1MLH22Hn7f48pvPPV4_POvbBEwtltLTXbboCXyErkVAzjhCU2UUnsXZjFhceowBbZVr5GkECLak3lvl6OOHAJN7B3V43PNacFqa8hPrJ9vofpQ/s16000/bisbee.rental.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">When the weather cooperates, it looks like this vs. the top photo in this blog post. When it's covered in snow. </span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>When I booked this place I envisioned me in Donna's glorious garden. Me in a tank top, sipping lemonade, and photographing her lovely flowers... and... <i>what?</i> </p><p>Eleven miles from the Mexico border - it was 18 degrees the day we arrived.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSz7pnrwekv5qHaU0Xjb7J55Fa7p6WwfvHujKCyCRQ8KLHn5wH63lZgFqnbFyRyN5PjCiREglFRYGanhbdGZ-TiXbIodjxFwg19Tn79xR6ngudhiAoQxyhSSjUkUPBHVf0V3RPD6cae7owa8PNchMe1DTyZX4UwAyDV7cbmCIIQ5UjEuOgQ/s800/rental.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSz7pnrwekv5qHaU0Xjb7J55Fa7p6WwfvHujKCyCRQ8KLHn5wH63lZgFqnbFyRyN5PjCiREglFRYGanhbdGZ-TiXbIodjxFwg19Tn79xR6ngudhiAoQxyhSSjUkUPBHVf0V3RPD6cae7owa8PNchMe1DTyZX4UwAyDV7cbmCIIQ5UjEuOgQ/s16000/rental.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Look up! Complimentary wine but you must climb to rafters to retrieve it. :)</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I fell in love the moment we walked inside. Have always dreamed of having a country kitchen in a wonderful old home like this one. <b>Sans the ghost</b>.</p><p>Yep. Pretty sure it was haunted. </p><p>That's crazy! YOU are saying to yourself at this very moment. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">I'm a light sleeper - woke in the middle of the night, hearing footsteps. Figured it was Hazel (I picked up a friend at the Phoenix airport for the last half of this journey.) But then I heard her snoring in the next room. Which is right about the time I remembered why I don't travel with her that often. :)</p></blockquote><p>Footsteps. In the attic. <i>And no dog.</i></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBg8j3t6Tzc6VYzotaN2rnzbDkbCB3TjBJw6QKuZPOtCW4WcD0XQSqrva2YZEMOQUQBNmc_4bdFo7Tubfzx4vhDEcBfuIWbChUAB8zBUz5GQYmnQsJhxkSHOE0yLNOFuJwnren-Uhy1J9zfTVdmE0APClMDSckVPzOBXZuhMmSFx5xeXVSPw/s830/charles.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBg8j3t6Tzc6VYzotaN2rnzbDkbCB3TjBJw6QKuZPOtCW4WcD0XQSqrva2YZEMOQUQBNmc_4bdFo7Tubfzx4vhDEcBfuIWbChUAB8zBUz5GQYmnQsJhxkSHOE0yLNOFuJwnren-Uhy1J9zfTVdmE0APClMDSckVPzOBXZuhMmSFx5xeXVSPw/s16000/charles.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Even when he's bored to tears, while I'm working on my computer, Charlie never leaves my side.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Charlie refused to come upstairs in that house. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">He's been by my side every day for the last 8 years. We sleep together every night. </p></blockquote><p>But Charlie wouldn't come upstairs to sleep with me while were staying in that house. Flatly refused. Which felt so very strange. Until I heard the spooky visitor in the attic in the middle of the night.</p><p>So there you have it. Truth in advertising. Bisbee really is a ghost town. And there's absolutely no need to book one of those super popular ghost tours the town offers. Just book the place I stayed in.</p><p>* If you don't believe me, believe in Charlie Waffles. He was smart enough to sleep downstairs on the couch.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-45592046377101482702023-02-09T11:43:00.044-07:002023-03-26T15:42:02.020-06:00The Story of the Vortex<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LO3mqsy61Cf2EQQs0GjjY1VCEqytU9b_ApZQiQeFliYBWQkoGt_W3UfD6kgYgOkSxDkb8aNqvdrfDpWqbERy_1g8lfIKKVlPZS6HOS3pLB-PuRxysEPbB5QrsImE1UmZYqyjXFbvzOjiSAvFpDdBnaTFC4YuSNDSSmfveCiFBLIMYW0snA/s835/1.1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="835" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0LO3mqsy61Cf2EQQs0GjjY1VCEqytU9b_ApZQiQeFliYBWQkoGt_W3UfD6kgYgOkSxDkb8aNqvdrfDpWqbERy_1g8lfIKKVlPZS6HOS3pLB-PuRxysEPbB5QrsImE1UmZYqyjXFbvzOjiSAvFpDdBnaTFC4YuSNDSSmfveCiFBLIMYW0snA/s16000/1.1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flowers! Outdoors! Oh yay! We've finally driven far enough south for it to feel like spring. </td></tr></tbody></table><p>What do you mean this Airbnb is $1,000 a night? It was $125 bucks a night when I last looked! </p><p><i>It's the Super Bowl! Everybody is coming to Phoenix the weekend you want to be here!</i> What???</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JmGpiBg-pbAlUSe87LGCjbox8TccImGCFKrwMojAgv4zX_dGD_0cvr6mSxQ8jdRJCWif7dx6f7J2AE-BCyuS7nWakz497SpOJOBBPvYfhGvbVH4r05M1_kw1k5o5dkCug96TEsVIzEb__qKO-J4UdPhXOTsNVNa1VaMJ6QjHE5-vF9EAig/s800/1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="421" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0JmGpiBg-pbAlUSe87LGCjbox8TccImGCFKrwMojAgv4zX_dGD_0cvr6mSxQ8jdRJCWif7dx6f7J2AE-BCyuS7nWakz497SpOJOBBPvYfhGvbVH4r05M1_kw1k5o5dkCug96TEsVIzEb__qKO-J4UdPhXOTsNVNa1VaMJ6QjHE5-vF9EAig/s16000/1.jpg" /></a></div><p>Not being a football enthusiast - and even less so after I saw how the Super Bowl was destroying my travel budget - by inflating the rental prices in Phoenix... </p><p><b>We took another detour on our <a href="https://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2023/02/the-road-most-traveled.html" target="_blank">Let's Go South to Warm Up</a> impromptu vacation. </b></p><p><b>Headed to Sedona. </b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5GhNgOLzVnZzvwerngRaKBwlJWi9zmDZDd0aFMqY0GJlA_lb2KJyBVVNTWS0rnAt2BJnfLLI85B99QveRSfihuKc6AhvrisbkZJ_nsAY-3kf-UqsvkfJniQabA-nlGSJQXp3ORX5y2mrpSflETj3tEoQu4h0Cbuhh6Rgs7Y0q8UCN1Os7g/s800/s-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="757" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5GhNgOLzVnZzvwerngRaKBwlJWi9zmDZDd0aFMqY0GJlA_lb2KJyBVVNTWS0rnAt2BJnfLLI85B99QveRSfihuKc6AhvrisbkZJ_nsAY-3kf-UqsvkfJniQabA-nlGSJQXp3ORX5y2mrpSflETj3tEoQu4h0Cbuhh6Rgs7Y0q8UCN1Os7g/s16000/s-1.jpg" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Vortex areas in and around Sedona are said to bring about self-awareness and spiritual healing. </i></p><p style="text-align: left;"><i>Native Americans believe that a spiritual transformation occurs more easily in Sedona because the veils to other dimensions are more translucent and accessible. </i></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeiJn2cUw_ZRMZfEBEudoipLB86-do27cf8-4hugbla0iuYzDfLTmVxw6QNkrTyq_MApwI3I-AzSWhCW9QiAgnsG4yE0uMvcAzubVrteOi1rIXcv75NdTYh9rsxuAx3g9Zz4YAa8iD72k2sRZ_ny4b9dzlEHB-H3I_ZmyVty3QTI5Mbxdyg/s841/sedona.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="841" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWeiJn2cUw_ZRMZfEBEudoipLB86-do27cf8-4hugbla0iuYzDfLTmVxw6QNkrTyq_MApwI3I-AzSWhCW9QiAgnsG4yE0uMvcAzubVrteOi1rIXcv75NdTYh9rsxuAx3g9Zz4YAa8iD72k2sRZ_ny4b9dzlEHB-H3I_ZmyVty3QTI5Mbxdyg/s16000/sedona.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Found the perfect place. A room with a fabulous view.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I had a 'spiritual transformation' the moment I pulled into town. No snow + the first glimpse of some outdoor flowers. In case you're wondering... I live in a ski resort and we've had 300 inches of snow during this insane winter. I love snow. <i>But I also love leaving it far behind</i>.</p><p>I've visited Sedona 14 times ~ and yet I've never spent any time, at all, in Sedona.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLwxtmJ9_H2EmjTjtiFPtc6UIj5U14e1Ocvh03OCxJnw9K6LtXWwYub0MaNjeZdpFNAZm0_jiJpT2VYOazywgJ9Z23aIkj6zsXxDTN7jthO7qFr6HOumScj4QF8OnSgiYkzayddylUE48Ejb_RJVA0x33YjBipLF6rOeRuHfKXLTVj5xUVA/s800/s-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTLwxtmJ9_H2EmjTjtiFPtc6UIj5U14e1Ocvh03OCxJnw9K6LtXWwYub0MaNjeZdpFNAZm0_jiJpT2VYOazywgJ9Z23aIkj6zsXxDTN7jthO7qFr6HOumScj4QF8OnSgiYkzayddylUE48Ejb_RJVA0x33YjBipLF6rOeRuHfKXLTVj5xUVA/s16000/s-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not just a view. A view <u>and</u> a fireplace. Which helped with the disappointment. Because it was freezing here, too.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>We used to travel to Sedona every spring. </p><p>Brought our horses to the Caballos del Sol ride, where we could forget about the mountains of snow back home ~ while trotting through those breathtaking red rock canyons. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8skAVDV_Ln1vZQ7WNFGPQtPIIbJ_wJdtj1uV8WPQmLWqHHiHQwxoPvrs0kKNod6EE3kJDuAG3ihnAjn_K6ZMJc_7x1KeTZccSFdzCIHxqMkmgTyC6aW8VL9jNXj8zs5ikkIVqfAmru0O0_zjH3UKixwCewne08n4Z0e8mmId8TU31SIUmQ/s800/candj.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="531" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT8skAVDV_Ln1vZQ7WNFGPQtPIIbJ_wJdtj1uV8WPQmLWqHHiHQwxoPvrs0kKNod6EE3kJDuAG3ihnAjn_K6ZMJc_7x1KeTZccSFdzCIHxqMkmgTyC6aW8VL9jNXj8zs5ikkIVqfAmru0O0_zjH3UKixwCewne08n4Z0e8mmId8TU31SIUmQ/s16000/candj.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator">When your travel buddy weighs 1,400 pounds (I love saying that because it instantly lets me off the hook when I think I should go on a diet) you're not allowed the luxury of leaving the horses behind, driving into Sedona, and doing the one thing I always wanted to do there. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;">Shop. The stores are amazing and I'm pretty sure I could find all kinds of things I don't need. </span>Like this! ↓↓ </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XERx6ihMRRPmivEzm9EU7Pv4wHchDUA-Al3guM74jMX8HcWyOyvZKU-tdBfUOYVHGsNSCiWUj8efe8EaRpvdGNnQsggA_J3McgMv5peX_0ZL-c919qGoQUnk7vcAYfJ9v0Ae8dW6EhTlrAvX51RAPEXX07Tw-VzLGjzjavjnyVYjoW-4zw/s800/w.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="385" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1XERx6ihMRRPmivEzm9EU7Pv4wHchDUA-Al3guM74jMX8HcWyOyvZKU-tdBfUOYVHGsNSCiWUj8efe8EaRpvdGNnQsggA_J3McgMv5peX_0ZL-c919qGoQUnk7vcAYfJ9v0Ae8dW6EhTlrAvX51RAPEXX07Tw-VzLGjzjavjnyVYjoW-4zw/s16000/w.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I have absolutely no use for this. But it's turquoise! </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div><span><span style="text-align: center;">Sedona is speckled with vortex areas - each radiating its own particular energy. </span></span></div><div><span><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span style="text-align: center;">The vortex, in downtown Sedona, is incredibly powerful. You feel yourself pulling your credit card out of your purse. Oftentimes you have no idea why. </span></span></div></div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHp63cVjWjEaKIrpP1uBpsetg_afjxWqhxIgqRnC_z7jNemt_XLeRp3AaSGQwAxtCJTin51v6xBCrCcSNvj6eSapk40SpyDKY8GZEqCK0lgMUTQILSxfeEMz7FcbrsnpBiZhL8IoIdlbnLyLHL-CeTRuNp75JXq_i0AvWi11P4c9UZ9vOqg/s800/m-2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRHp63cVjWjEaKIrpP1uBpsetg_afjxWqhxIgqRnC_z7jNemt_XLeRp3AaSGQwAxtCJTin51v6xBCrCcSNvj6eSapk40SpyDKY8GZEqCK0lgMUTQILSxfeEMz7FcbrsnpBiZhL8IoIdlbnLyLHL-CeTRuNp75JXq_i0AvWi11P4c9UZ9vOqg/s16000/m-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The excitement over 'no snow' lasted all of one day.</td></tr></tbody></table><h3 style="text-align: center;">The True Story of The Vortex</h3><p>Do you believe in magic? Divine intervention? "Woo-woo" experiences? Yeah, me neither. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">√ Although I thought it was rather magical that I managed to score a place to stay in Sedona, at the last minute, with a stunning view and a fireplace!</p></blockquote><p>Science plays a huge role in how we view the universe. Yet. There are times when I wonder if we behave cautiously - claim certain oddities couldn't possibly be true - because we don't want to embarrass ourselves by admitting we believe. Subjecting ourselves to ridicule because of our beliefs. And also because lots of really cool things are downright impossible to prove. </p><p>Or. Are they?</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsg91JNHj05WqcOJzoTJA4_qvFenGL_rNPmbf2XItXBPNty0AhPs1IiYQPBbhEHo6kUIvCsh5beSAMbjzpM56GnoRhos_8n4mxGe7-r4FU_u0o1qdcxRbjaYHID1mnsNwuhWrwdk6HoMG7VDM83wlE2Z-889Jg2AuqA6Ct5-Ug9NvUWqvbw/s800/c-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixsg91JNHj05WqcOJzoTJA4_qvFenGL_rNPmbf2XItXBPNty0AhPs1IiYQPBbhEHo6kUIvCsh5beSAMbjzpM56GnoRhos_8n4mxGe7-r4FU_u0o1qdcxRbjaYHID1mnsNwuhWrwdk6HoMG7VDM83wlE2Z-889Jg2AuqA6Ct5-Ug9NvUWqvbw/s16000/c-1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sedona really does feel as if it's 'alive' with a special type of energy.</td></tr></tbody></table><p>A long time ago, I visited Sedona with the gal who would ultimately become my freelance business partner. We had argued for almost a year on how to make this work. Young and strong and very fit at the time, we hiked to the top of Cathedral Rock. </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: left;">* I would not recommend this. Go shopping. That's loads more fun.</p></blockquote><p>At the top, we rested, dangling our legs over the ledge, talking about The Freelance Business. The one we couldn't agree on. The problem-solving ideas flowed out of us, like water from a teapot. In the span of 30 minutes, we solved all the major roadblocks. <i>And we have not swayed from that business plan in 25 years.</i></p><p>When we got back to town, we had drinks in a local bar. Still in awe that we figured this all out so easily, we mentioned this to some of the locals. They nodded their heads, saying: <i>Oh, yes, clarity of thought. That's a big one up there. </i></p><div>So, yeah, I don't know. Maybe that's all the proof we need. Strange, magical things happen all the time. Becoming a freelancer vastly improved my life. Allowed me to retire early. If we can credit a big, red rock for that clarity, I'm perfectly happy to do so!</div><div><br /></div><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-58794636344578086142023-02-03T11:21:00.024-07:002023-02-28T11:49:55.821-07:00I Never Know Where I'm Going ~ 'Til I Get There<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X7oHb9KIRZNkpmlHx7e1YGwEGmG5Fsw5yI43MMWVS9_xnkdhyeKO1SHBaZfMZC2DQMn9BFz1aUNf5SW7YOD2PYNZil5R-66R_EjN6rZ3FydNUWlvrczGis5qbNe6l3f_UhjOUIRJsKb3zolN_ZGl9vYYq5lyd8bm4dZq2a-2vJtXz-_oCw/s1066/bryce.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_X7oHb9KIRZNkpmlHx7e1YGwEGmG5Fsw5yI43MMWVS9_xnkdhyeKO1SHBaZfMZC2DQMn9BFz1aUNf5SW7YOD2PYNZil5R-66R_EjN6rZ3FydNUWlvrczGis5qbNe6l3f_UhjOUIRJsKb3zolN_ZGl9vYYq5lyd8bm4dZq2a-2vJtXz-_oCw/s16000/bryce.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bryce Canyon in Winter.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Covid taught me sit still. Which is pretty darn hard to do! When you're plagued with nervous energy as I am. My Grandma used to call it The Wiggies. <i>Always restless. Can't sit still. </i>She understood because she was the same way. That's why I was a perpetual traveler. Until Covid demanded I sit still. </div><div><br /></div><div><i>Then Delta Airlines clinched the deal <u>by showing me just how absolutely horrible airline travel</u> has become, post-pandemic.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div>These days we much prefer road trips.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKUk67bk6dj44FFn6xvyiCOEhvKtvI4dtQaCHOt2dEpNizKHF0yac7cusNRXDDfTkPWH2NU3wRJrZCHDZ9L19jZ7leP3CGf2c8PL3lLbRokf5WHqinqIMV8iblvDKnq1Kcah_fXX62Z0B2j-I2DFXdmZtvMT2daacRFZkSy5DIAE3g4U5XQ/s800/queen.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="602" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKUk67bk6dj44FFn6xvyiCOEhvKtvI4dtQaCHOt2dEpNizKHF0yac7cusNRXDDfTkPWH2NU3wRJrZCHDZ9L19jZ7leP3CGf2c8PL3lLbRokf5WHqinqIMV8iblvDKnq1Kcah_fXX62Z0B2j-I2DFXdmZtvMT2daacRFZkSy5DIAE3g4U5XQ/s16000/queen.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Queen's Garden in Bryce.<br />Oh my gods it was cold there! </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><i>All I did was give your Mother a nudge out the door.</i> < That's what I assumed Lou might tell my daughter when they filed the Missing Persons report. </div><div><br /></div><div>Laughing about that when Charlie & I were the only two slip-sliding down the icy Navajo Trail. Bryce was the first detour on our impromptu road trip - to warmer temperatures.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKXI4Pyuat1cphUn6sZasW9fLNtcfd9862YV9JQwoH6KqAYcU2eLqxCYRxS02zvlYSN0x7SoI0FtXweUZLSEe7n0GcInuOTC-caFpDbi6XIscJLwA5TPHGsPpjdevmSNRJSWBsZlJOL8McAUHOei-2dbxHprUGlpx4yVZrhYW5vD7g2HOzA/s889/kanab.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="889" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeKXI4Pyuat1cphUn6sZasW9fLNtcfd9862YV9JQwoH6KqAYcU2eLqxCYRxS02zvlYSN0x7SoI0FtXweUZLSEe7n0GcInuOTC-caFpDbi6XIscJLwA5TPHGsPpjdevmSNRJSWBsZlJOL8McAUHOei-2dbxHprUGlpx4yVZrhYW5vD7g2HOzA/s16000/kanab.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coffee and donuts are quite popular in Kanab, Utah.<br />I could live here forever.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>It all started when Lou, who lives in sunny San Diego, called me up, mentioning that he was desperate to do some skiing. [I live in a ski resort.] </div><div><br /></div><div>I was desperate to get as far out of the snow as we could drive. After one brief phone call it was all settled! He could be my house sitter and we could take a road trip to Bisbee, Arizona.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyE3G_uW6a5_RJxhm2DFKJGdbOv6cXdu7muFyE1WqfCQlMZNrXGdW-__4LeA1EK_xQykQD9_56gGSdD01xjSJN9zWasMjJsHy2is_8lINGBu39zDMmI9LGJKaBG0Yf9gGytGXWmI0zfkP7zePVW4QJaWRyuv9UlEySKpbj8KLbWp68PvlAKw/s800/cameron.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="472" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyE3G_uW6a5_RJxhm2DFKJGdbOv6cXdu7muFyE1WqfCQlMZNrXGdW-__4LeA1EK_xQykQD9_56gGSdD01xjSJN9zWasMjJsHy2is_8lINGBu39zDMmI9LGJKaBG0Yf9gGytGXWmI0zfkP7zePVW4QJaWRyuv9UlEySKpbj8KLbWp68PvlAKw/s16000/cameron.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We always stay in the wonderful Cameron Lodge, Navajo Nation, on the outskirts of Marble Canyon.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />I've traveled this road so many times. For most folks, it's a one-day drive to Phoenix where you are pretty much guaranteed warm weather. [Though most folks never take the backroads.]<div><br /></div><div>And I always do it alone. Perhaps that's because I'm 1) anti-social, 2) prone to detours, 3) willing to stop every 5 minutes to take a picture. #1 - definitely not. Yes, to #2 and #3.<div><br /></div><div>But it's much simpler than that. I just don't like people bitching at me. 'Normal' people would be pacing around that silly coffee shop, in Kanab, nervously checking the time on their phone. "We’re behind schedule! It will be dark soon!" < You’re an adult. Why are you afraid of the dark?<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhzaqc8CHIeacQdhwd9r2kCe7t_1a9s83_mAYFr9KSxpPfYZE5tP8JZIZuUqs35WeTDsO_gsUpBtBVx62KRCfov5ubAZQNWMwa0iN5_xQrm6ArjCo8kWcv_6XY5OZdZH1L0LdtufQOyTMBzisBR7-1I-B1mw-pP9mRjBiblx-MCQRazpJkQ/s831/roadtrippin.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="831" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBhzaqc8CHIeacQdhwd9r2kCe7t_1a9s83_mAYFr9KSxpPfYZE5tP8JZIZuUqs35WeTDsO_gsUpBtBVx62KRCfov5ubAZQNWMwa0iN5_xQrm6ArjCo8kWcv_6XY5OZdZH1L0LdtufQOyTMBzisBR7-1I-B1mw-pP9mRjBiblx-MCQRazpJkQ/s16000/roadtrippin.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Charlie Waffles needs a bath.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>These days, I prefer to travel with the one guy who never complains. Who greatly appreciates 3 detours in one long day. And is perfectly happy with whatever crazy notion pops into my head.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb2cr7DmMq2LI3aG0ENmtgGaLhmQU6b2TPgeLP8R-1BqUK3qXwDb6onUMdwhr1-pRgtcar5qo9EjslYgX5VZqvSZgQToNhP0uiWTvTnYyRbJZ2cVNMrvhWTOhGTavvQHD2gOWkyjOyqAA12WJssbqfaleSxWNlMcLTLmTT6lQuf41cjZCkw/s800/bend.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQb2cr7DmMq2LI3aG0ENmtgGaLhmQU6b2TPgeLP8R-1BqUK3qXwDb6onUMdwhr1-pRgtcar5qo9EjslYgX5VZqvSZgQToNhP0uiWTvTnYyRbJZ2cVNMrvhWTOhGTavvQHD2gOWkyjOyqAA12WJssbqfaleSxWNlMcLTLmTT6lQuf41cjZCkw/s16000/bend.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You won't see a sign directing you to this overlook. <br />But if you drive 75.6 miles from the donut shop, you'll see the turnoff.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>Cuddled up in our hotel room, in the middle of nowhere, listening to the microwave spin and hum, cooking one of our emergency meals (that I always pack, because I'm not a complete dummy,) I smiled. Thinking about Janet. And her spaghetti alfredo, in Croatia. She brought that pre-packaged meal with her from Park City. It traveled across Italy. And France. Waiting patiently in her suitcase. <i>Just in case we encountered a situation when it would come in handy. </i>And it did. </div><div><br /></div><div>That’s probably why we're such great friends. Sometimes I feel as if we’re the last two people on the planet (that I know) who appreciate these wild lands. And enjoy the magic so easily discovered, when you embrace those 'inconvenient' detours.</div></div></div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-11952463837565378982023-01-22T12:20:00.012-07:002023-01-22T12:48:06.208-07:00Amaryllis - January's Best Blossoms<p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA-i6xAgdCY1FXAG7BaOO4t9QBQNHDTS5oc1XCLmj7OzcMNlpN3JqZ2Q9c8DmnWqP2YmngBSjWdRZReCtMp64rgKJshbwh9sxdRYqMB4fiGY8ElrX-HA_UQGDFe8Tkv37jZnH7XwprQwqyjmKZ4SYk6_AHXV4YfL4Sj52ZotGw3tNoZ4lkw/s855/planter.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlA-i6xAgdCY1FXAG7BaOO4t9QBQNHDTS5oc1XCLmj7OzcMNlpN3JqZ2Q9c8DmnWqP2YmngBSjWdRZReCtMp64rgKJshbwh9sxdRYqMB4fiGY8ElrX-HA_UQGDFe8Tkv37jZnH7XwprQwqyjmKZ4SYk6_AHXV4YfL4Sj52ZotGw3tNoZ4lkw/s16000/planter.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from my window. The view from up here.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /> * lilting holiday music * <i>Oh, the weather outside is <strike>frightful</strike>.</i>. <u>Normal</u>. <p></p><p>For the first time, in 7 years, we are experiencing an absolutely delightful, normal, cold, snowy, winter. </p><p><i>And I gotta tell ya.. it is bringing me back to life.</i> This break in the severe drought began long before the snows arrived. Utah experienced a monsoon season this summer! Albeit short, but who cares? It's a positive. Good news is hard to come by, these days. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8e1ICTtGPAxT9TPxyKQrzjrqtlsVOH3H91pg1ui0IHTRwGMI5s4ZeAIcpjA1KyYHVjmyc25Z89OQjc4erNGwjgaKH9zYOpB5G6ykgXKcYbBDIxC0q70Gm8FdjpSei0kMiyVyN6kalUpNuIj8j7E4GgP7HkTr5IMSfyffvwys0bMbPyi8ag/s800/amaryllis.red3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="730" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM8e1ICTtGPAxT9TPxyKQrzjrqtlsVOH3H91pg1ui0IHTRwGMI5s4ZeAIcpjA1KyYHVjmyc25Z89OQjc4erNGwjgaKH9zYOpB5G6ykgXKcYbBDIxC0q70Gm8FdjpSei0kMiyVyN6kalUpNuIj8j7E4GgP7HkTr5IMSfyffvwys0bMbPyi8ag/s16000/amaryllis.red3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a $10 dollar flower bulb, purchased from Home Depot.</td></tr></tbody></table><br />Indoors - everything is also normal. Well. <i>As normal as it can be around here</i>. When you live in a ski resort, experiencing the "Best Ever!" snow and your tiny mountain town has blossomed with an extra 80,000 people who showed up to ski. <div><br /></div><div>Never mind the fact that they don't know how to ski. This is instagram-able! So they booked a flight.<div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUro1Lj6rsCTtvQHNEOgylydOMqopzwwaq-CiIfERpVYYkKtTgGbkBJpttMW7bbHvTF93cvQgnRih9FcD5C038Lex0UC7Mj88QBjAj7LOa--9uYCo4xc5re21AJQnqFMgOqRilYhrA0GtZMi5S-HViJ4gNeWZUZJUfsIl3g_XkklWRBIYhA/s800/amaryllis.pink.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="779" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUro1Lj6rsCTtvQHNEOgylydOMqopzwwaq-CiIfERpVYYkKtTgGbkBJpttMW7bbHvTF93cvQgnRih9FcD5C038Lex0UC7Mj88QBjAj7LOa--9uYCo4xc5re21AJQnqFMgOqRilYhrA0GtZMi5S-HViJ4gNeWZUZJUfsIl3g_XkklWRBIYhA/s16000/amaryllis.pink.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This variegated Amaryllis is one of my favorites. Another $10 bulb from HD.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><div>I'm sure you've seen them. The boxes and boxes of <b>Amaryllis bulbs</b> adorning the shelves of the [aptly named] big box stores around the holidays. </div><div><br /></div><div>Like most fabulous blossoms, they do not care that you prefer instant gratification.
</div></div><div><br /></div><div>However! They are most definitely worth the wait. [Approximately 6 weeks after planting day.]</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV4x4u8ulcw3wi4Q74Bu7bCX_qARS_0Lg1i8T02CR_pOLYHpd_YY3BKaHK1p8ibIvlVZ_VatlreSTDFsyd0I6nNJI0Ak1O9TlvEOL9iHzTRWGg-z-CpJ8JCHmQQXsfD1zza4TqYyg0GGW705XXdQjcJDr81RDsfW67OVl-SN8b-cRRES5gQ/s1066/amaryllis.v2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikV4x4u8ulcw3wi4Q74Bu7bCX_qARS_0Lg1i8T02CR_pOLYHpd_YY3BKaHK1p8ibIvlVZ_VatlreSTDFsyd0I6nNJI0Ak1O9TlvEOL9iHzTRWGg-z-CpJ8JCHmQQXsfD1zza4TqYyg0GGW705XXdQjcJDr81RDsfW67OVl-SN8b-cRRES5gQ/s16000/amaryllis.v2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I saved this Amaryllis bulb. She was growing in a box in the store when I found her.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><i>They are the most impressive bulbs.</i> </div><div><br /></div><h4 style="text-align: left;">Amaryllis are so eager to bloom, they often grow, and blossom, without sunlight, soil or water. </h4><div><br /></div><div>You've probably seen that, too. After the holidays, when the bulbs who weren't purchased are still sitting in the dark boxes, inside the store. Oftentimes you'll see a tall stem, with a large flower bud on top the stem, forcing her way out of the cardboard container.</div><div><br /></div><div>Like this gal! 👇 I saved her. The minute I gave her a sunny window + a desperately needed drink of water... she decided to become a tree:</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVL3APR-GDBk2apsrJiDPIEcFiR3vmU-F9_CpCLVs_u2MVtSIQvSv4actqKI1doTCqKKZ8Ma8DevTvrKlBul1XGgA0AHtt0B8Gl9szjBVKWeCsgbnKMYuJWOuxYH97S1H2sdVdm7actrD4Hq6cFcNSbncMX3fYK-zPWNrAWwJHYfCCx2Z7Q/s1066/amaryllis.v3.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpVL3APR-GDBk2apsrJiDPIEcFiR3vmU-F9_CpCLVs_u2MVtSIQvSv4actqKI1doTCqKKZ8Ma8DevTvrKlBul1XGgA0AHtt0B8Gl9szjBVKWeCsgbnKMYuJWOuxYH97S1H2sdVdm7actrD4Hq6cFcNSbncMX3fYK-zPWNrAWwJHYfCCx2Z7Q/s16000/amaryllis.v3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pay no attention to that can of dog food next to this pretty flower. </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>The cost of these stunningly beautiful houseplants - each flower is twice the size of my hand - is about $10 bucks.*</div><div><br /></div><div>So if you see one struggling this time of year - Save Her! You'll be glad you did. And so will she.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkuo-1OTFOxuD_VWG09SS_2Kga1_imsGIHFPQlHDpHqARm71pFlAhzxEEcfyzSolxcnI6WbMtvejsK10QHBLMhkdubQreklrGwGZHMhVLAGEdurOGe9dcNTziuRE2NhH9veC4203FaXbXgPSYoAB9EzXZWBoBj-PPfvnXYtXnFF7QCWZ3Qg/s1066/amaryllis.pink2.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkuo-1OTFOxuD_VWG09SS_2Kga1_imsGIHFPQlHDpHqARm71pFlAhzxEEcfyzSolxcnI6WbMtvejsK10QHBLMhkdubQreklrGwGZHMhVLAGEdurOGe9dcNTziuRE2NhH9veC4203FaXbXgPSYoAB9EzXZWBoBj-PPfvnXYtXnFF7QCWZ3Qg/s16000/amaryllis.pink2.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Amaryllis petals sparkle in the sunlight.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>If that sales pitch is not enough incentive for you to save a struggling bulb, here's one more. </div><div><br /></div><div>In the sunlight the petals sparkle - as if covered in fairy dust.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOz0P_7wNccWSGaKC4Uh8X4hUFCojjRAOFa2y0pH95pi_QGrcRp5AbcwYQ4jxfTcCpU0R4W3S3_tFvoquFtlB0ExDAzY1tKcjwfKBUaugLN_YzJ1LaBAiDOMuKKbdwaEzp7AT0sYj1ZHe3Q1aNHRVQnc0BsfnOvVeAV_EgKv2H628j6GQ5g/s1066/amaryllis.red.v1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXOz0P_7wNccWSGaKC4Uh8X4hUFCojjRAOFa2y0pH95pi_QGrcRp5AbcwYQ4jxfTcCpU0R4W3S3_tFvoquFtlB0ExDAzY1tKcjwfKBUaugLN_YzJ1LaBAiDOMuKKbdwaEzp7AT0sYj1ZHe3Q1aNHRVQnc0BsfnOvVeAV_EgKv2H628j6GQ5g/s16000/amaryllis.red.v1.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The beautiful view on my {filthy} kitchen counter.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>* If you are already an Amaryllis aficionado, then you probably know that nursery grade bulbs produce even bigger flowers. Therefore they are considerably more expensive. <a href="https://www.americanmeadows.com/blossom-peacock-amaryllis-bulb" target="_blank">American Meadows</a> is a great resource for them. And, no, they did not pay me to say that. Every Christmas, a gardening friend of mine gifts me with one of their bulbs. Thanks, Hazel! My premium bulb hasn't bloomed. Yet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Happy January Gardeners! Let's make it a pretty one.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJoaHS4P4UAvyKFOzlOhwuTcODTeGb58iUm73cRzf-ML-k2jGOV47jbBg1bEeKcUE4foFvP51MC2ERnnotq5nJf-GcgpxPGr46NmsolWRogu6Pe4cCZ-kPxGE53PaZ2pAihcJ94MidTday1emovschOOi4znizF4x_vh1isFIiXU4VUDZpQ/s1066/amaryllis.v.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwJoaHS4P4UAvyKFOzlOhwuTcODTeGb58iUm73cRzf-ML-k2jGOV47jbBg1bEeKcUE4foFvP51MC2ERnnotq5nJf-GcgpxPGr46NmsolWRogu6Pe4cCZ-kPxGE53PaZ2pAihcJ94MidTday1emovschOOi4znizF4x_vh1isFIiXU4VUDZpQ/s16000/amaryllis.v.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div>Tip: </div><div>Amaryllis bulbs will re-bloom. (Though they rarely bloom as prolifically as they did the first time.) I'm far too lazy to do this but here's how: Set your bulb flower pot in a shady spot in your garden. Leave her out there, all summer, until after the first light freeze. Snip the greenery. Store in a cool, dark box, or closet, for 6 weeks. Then bring her out, give her a sip of water and watch her do her stuff. (Probably 10 weeks to bloom time.)</div></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-40391792442064900332023-01-01T09:26:00.007-07:002023-03-04T09:54:15.623-07:00Let's Brighten Things Up<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlCm0ADyEoAbVvGmp0tdSj0LEena5TVXujFkJjBV4GgbjLX0Qx3_LL2Fvrx2l65uBrpjDICotyrTOaKZTJcEJS3k9yF1-XNSxojKAEz0YpHK4FeTKFtRwHhX04dCGKlvMbFoTqGe6nGlKEqG5nR4d-eAA8-UyTABY4KvJ1-7b8zdKxJvN5w/s1133/lantana.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1133" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMlCm0ADyEoAbVvGmp0tdSj0LEena5TVXujFkJjBV4GgbjLX0Qx3_LL2Fvrx2l65uBrpjDICotyrTOaKZTJcEJS3k9yF1-XNSxojKAEz0YpHK4FeTKFtRwHhX04dCGKlvMbFoTqGe6nGlKEqG5nR4d-eAA8-UyTABY4KvJ1-7b8zdKxJvN5w/w640-h564/lantana.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes I grow Lantana indoors. Why should Arizona gardeners have all the fun?</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>* cough, cough, splutter, splutter * </div><div><br /></div><div>Dusting off the old blog, haven't visited for quite some time. Clearly suffering from neglect. I realize the blog is online - relieved to see it's still here! But reality is for those who lack imagination.</div><div><br /></div><div>To me - the blog feels like it's an old library. </div><div><br /></div><div>Maybe this one. ↓ <i>No, not this one. Too Downton Abby.</i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiit7DmLMntfODYxQTblwYCPw6h-KZ2FKbOx23wUK0nujtPuZqgc9gEDEGXJ_fJBXiTqcQF520NZwGNd7tjv-8pYu9Yr06FStRB47YSwc354qQ-wWpMVGwdVVhBNGKvZRs6G_LF0c-VlSr16IJ-s_M0JV-SNE22MksGjLN8cx9x7RJCT38YLA/s1920/theroom2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1083" data-original-width="1920" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiit7DmLMntfODYxQTblwYCPw6h-KZ2FKbOx23wUK0nujtPuZqgc9gEDEGXJ_fJBXiTqcQF520NZwGNd7tjv-8pYu9Yr06FStRB47YSwc354qQ-wWpMVGwdVVhBNGKvZRs6G_LF0c-VlSr16IJ-s_M0JV-SNE22MksGjLN8cx9x7RJCT38YLA/w640-h362/theroom2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Maybe this one? ↓</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7rpdnFYzzQF_5gwYI9Ni5xHSzoBn_WAJTUg2d5MfbzslgfoM3UxJqUVHefKcfmIX6hXAQ7fpHoNa-_PQUIv5DLRyRSd2cT_xDhGaBJ0bLVHQqujRD5DoRIRW_HERjMvVK1YlwUl8VFpr_qDQwcixLnVhkCZyQnxzw4uO8LxaAUQ2yT286Q/s639/the.room.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="424" data-original-width="639" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk7rpdnFYzzQF_5gwYI9Ni5xHSzoBn_WAJTUg2d5MfbzslgfoM3UxJqUVHefKcfmIX6hXAQ7fpHoNa-_PQUIv5DLRyRSd2cT_xDhGaBJ0bLVHQqujRD5DoRIRW_HERjMvVK1YlwUl8VFpr_qDQwcixLnVhkCZyQnxzw4uO8LxaAUQ2yT286Q/w400-h265/the.room.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><i>No, that's been done.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>How about this one? ↓</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8k2SJkObRa5coqibyOkCTyFs0Z59WS0eOTQw2me4qmhN6Ich3GPPIhsu-GkYcjnv79bquBq4FOW_EwcJnjSco4Zmafi3AGHqg1mVeF0HY0E755HLyJ8hp3Kua-ftlilbIzKeerNH9F8GZrj5nvfay2u6UE0KX0qIY3W75NDHuLhAYV3-Urw/s750/theroom3.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="500" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8k2SJkObRa5coqibyOkCTyFs0Z59WS0eOTQw2me4qmhN6Ich3GPPIhsu-GkYcjnv79bquBq4FOW_EwcJnjSco4Zmafi3AGHqg1mVeF0HY0E755HLyJ8hp3Kua-ftlilbIzKeerNH9F8GZrj5nvfay2u6UE0KX0qIY3W75NDHuLhAYV3-Urw/w426-h640/theroom3.jpeg" width="426" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Yeah, yeah, ↑ that's it!</div><div><br /></div><div>Revisiting this little blog of mine. Which is not little. Been writing in it <u>for 16 flower-filled years</u>. Albeit sporadically of late...</div><div><br /></div><div><u>In my head</u>, the blog feels like a Sherlock Holmes kind of old English library. Filled with dusty books. And terrific ideas. Coupled with all kinds of bad ideas. Because. Well. <i>You know...</i> sometimes those truly fantastic ideas of ours don't exactly turn out the way we want them to.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4ABtrQj7h1otj2SJjabCrR-9HQ8p7n24zq6GanvfD0pO5UYNkEHHihQDtHrwKpNS5yZKnJyyQFTr4PPqz1JdDEfX0WlNjTXoWna5kMUNMvimBm1HkDDf-PyeKUTaqYfV02OitEarEPYWlwjrtOPvobkmAWcNpKplyCh3Vb6FtfzZvcu21A/s1000/kalanchoe.red.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="969" data-original-width="1000" height="620" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4ABtrQj7h1otj2SJjabCrR-9HQ8p7n24zq6GanvfD0pO5UYNkEHHihQDtHrwKpNS5yZKnJyyQFTr4PPqz1JdDEfX0WlNjTXoWna5kMUNMvimBm1HkDDf-PyeKUTaqYfV02OitEarEPYWlwjrtOPvobkmAWcNpKplyCh3Vb6FtfzZvcu21A/w640-h620/kalanchoe.red.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kalanchoe in the kitchen window</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Whatever the case, visiting the blog always inspires a fine trip down memory lane. Revisiting the years when I was happy. </div><div><br /></div><div>I’m not unhappy right now. Truth be told, one must work extra hard to make me unhappy. </div><div><br /></div><div>However! I should give credit where credit is due. A nod to the foot soldiers working diligently to ruin most of last year. Succeeding in their attempts to drive me crazy and make me sad. 2022 was a ghastly year. < See? I even sound like Sherlock Holmes.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjA8R4cZL7XVNHK2l0CKg11QVoMwqSRB52f_6F3gGX5CawxF8jDVTTKUWQEd3Ol_IYsvZ2vIgdJyyf-z2VMubgDtLsRjDqt7a2McRVujSEkFKTBKcNtGU4_tXujo6SScnTPYHpbv17qX8Rc3k2MoaLADHw1Rp4vkMTiZ0rQg7E8tsb7cvRRw/s1037/Natural.Poinsettie.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1037" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjA8R4cZL7XVNHK2l0CKg11QVoMwqSRB52f_6F3gGX5CawxF8jDVTTKUWQEd3Ol_IYsvZ2vIgdJyyf-z2VMubgDtLsRjDqt7a2McRVujSEkFKTBKcNtGU4_tXujo6SScnTPYHpbv17qX8Rc3k2MoaLADHw1Rp4vkMTiZ0rQg7E8tsb7cvRRw/w618-h640/Natural.Poinsettie.jpg" width="618" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a <u>naturally turning red</u> Poinsettia. Have owned her for 4 years<br />And she NEVER turns red in time for Christmas. :)</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>Does anyone but me feel like we need to work extra hard to remain happy these days?</div><div><br /></div><div>Work hard. Or remain oblivious. Avoiding the news at all costs. Constantly taking a deep breath while some person around us, oftentimes a total stranger, is throwing a temper tantrum?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEGyQg_j1-jhGDwUP1SC3gGgMwQI8tRU3RPt2Z-gS5Y3cjG68w-BT7VBQ8MRg95O6S5QeEHLuzEMfHP84lVuSx_jd4GDu2Q9Cpzc0vch7mbvtO4PJX3oY8gzOmY8GnvwYUiXZ1KArlJW8p3NV8DTqNBriP_ogsHzUwLUf2W9wLbUwMXBNwA/s1142/christmas.cactus.red.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1142" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmEGyQg_j1-jhGDwUP1SC3gGgMwQI8tRU3RPt2Z-gS5Y3cjG68w-BT7VBQ8MRg95O6S5QeEHLuzEMfHP84lVuSx_jd4GDu2Q9Cpzc0vch7mbvtO4PJX3oY8gzOmY8GnvwYUiXZ1KArlJW8p3NV8DTqNBriP_ogsHzUwLUf2W9wLbUwMXBNwA/w560-h640/christmas.cactus.red.jpg" width="560" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Christmas' Cactus started blooming in October. Still going strong.</td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><div>It’s infectious, you know. Bad moods. Bad attitudes. </div><div><br /></div><div>But this is a New Year. </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And this ↓↓↓ is why I’m here: Grey. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibchxGQlPE_MWwosnr9pB8a6XgBSttIZJcwmyHEBKOCV2Tz5kbfTZxR60GKz_iAdmzCXMHNQn1mNW-m0JyGRGOVq0M88U_-_Zx93q4Mrhjcc_GO8O45uc99MGRzRT8vAF1_9w6iRkNRyqfV3PhNLMlDBd1mtKgTketo9fZYA_G_6wYgfefug/s1625/grey.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1275" data-original-width="1625" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibchxGQlPE_MWwosnr9pB8a6XgBSttIZJcwmyHEBKOCV2Tz5kbfTZxR60GKz_iAdmzCXMHNQn1mNW-m0JyGRGOVq0M88U_-_Zx93q4Mrhjcc_GO8O45uc99MGRzRT8vAF1_9w6iRkNRyqfV3PhNLMlDBd1mtKgTketo9fZYA_G_6wYgfefug/s320/grey.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>To me, the prevalence of Grey in our choices during 2022 [the top 10 paint choices were various shades of grey] speaks volumes as to how we feel. Which is not good. And certainly not calm.</div><div><br /></div><div>I personally think we need a whole lot more color in our lives. </div><div><br /></div><div>Whatever happened to sunny yellow?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSQt1r-5z0GFhaeRXbCgRcAq-TF697WpYc8XQiHfMLyug7YbeGplNmt3lSSbklFJHXLgEu9OBw7RZsoByoa8KZfCfuhnbm3d7iCEN66ZWuMB-jleCfti5UNbRUCQqeJrRi8bpOvb_cWFR8vviJVVrztpcTEYSZbmjyAtlLbKmnmmpMJ-G1g/s1307/orchid1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1307" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSQt1r-5z0GFhaeRXbCgRcAq-TF697WpYc8XQiHfMLyug7YbeGplNmt3lSSbklFJHXLgEu9OBw7RZsoByoa8KZfCfuhnbm3d7iCEN66ZWuMB-jleCfti5UNbRUCQqeJrRi8bpOvb_cWFR8vviJVVrztpcTEYSZbmjyAtlLbKmnmmpMJ-G1g/w490-h640/orchid1.jpg" width="490" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Every windowsill needs at least one Orchid</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>When did we stop loving Outrageous Orange?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRB4yZ5M47Esvz6eJhmK-5ARgVkSGhgWqIKLloeoPgIHRcWijuPsFxDdDnNaWv_sGhGFy4pnFZeTjhW1nZI7eSrl-nWzddrUtgtN5Z4QW4W9wpIWbvOIc-006mXad3Drddp3KkSn2zJGQ2fFgEUPbY0_PLLhnrbn4ZJWnlIAzYY7tO4RPRUA/s1000/hibiscus.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1000" height="638" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRB4yZ5M47Esvz6eJhmK-5ARgVkSGhgWqIKLloeoPgIHRcWijuPsFxDdDnNaWv_sGhGFy4pnFZeTjhW1nZI7eSrl-nWzddrUtgtN5Z4QW4W9wpIWbvOIc-006mXad3Drddp3KkSn2zJGQ2fFgEUPbY0_PLLhnrbn4ZJWnlIAzYY7tO4RPRUA/w640-h638/hibiscus.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hibiscus happily blooms indoors.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Be honest. Wouldn't your morning coffee be more fun if you were surrounded Hot Cha Cha Pink?</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-5-DfPWMk21eEpcpFiZl2pp6Y-0GpZF5PKqmXLizUuVfuddIz_SIzn9cwnEzYVKXQI-d-T5nRnITokmG8j6coF0yNxcZ2cA8wBLVLoxZ5RhLusK_v9hYlP-fDhld1yRtD7OxTLFRUiD8vhn-dSIHdNwYlSB4-OTnOu900H0aXXxoSCE54g/s1333/aunt.edna.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="1000" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy-5-DfPWMk21eEpcpFiZl2pp6Y-0GpZF5PKqmXLizUuVfuddIz_SIzn9cwnEzYVKXQI-d-T5nRnITokmG8j6coF0yNxcZ2cA8wBLVLoxZ5RhLusK_v9hYlP-fDhld1yRtD7OxTLFRUiD8vhn-dSIHdNwYlSB4-OTnOu900H0aXXxoSCE54g/w480-h640/aunt.edna.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Christmas Cactus can live for a 100 years! I can attest to that!<br />Have owned this pretty girl since my college days!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>Happiness is what I was thinking about, last night, while standing in the garden. </div><div><br /></div><div>Bundled in my winter coat. Wildflowers soundly sleeping beneath mountains of snow. At 1 a.m. (?!?) I’m old, now. FYI - I’m as surprised as you are. That I not only welcomed in the New Year. That I did so outside. In the snow! In freezing temperatures! And that I did NOT do that at 10 p.m. – as I would normally do. Because I don’t typically care when the balls drop. Or where it drops. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I do care about it is <b>The Truth of The Matter</b>: Color makes people happy. Flowers make people happy. FYI - Grey is also a popular color choice when painting prison cells. </div><div><br /></div><div>So let's brighten things up! If you don't have a sunny window, get yourself a grow light. You'd be surprised how many pretty flowers you can grow indoors. And. Every. Single. One. Of. Them. Is guaranteed to make you smile.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Happy New Year, Gardeners. Let's make it a colorful one.</b></div>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-25438513021617816332021-04-17T11:25:00.006-06:002021-04-17T11:33:14.914-06:00First Spring Blossoms<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXQOBOkiKyUlXB1GwBIM6lO2r7HzjvE8LIp2MhZ1Iw3UYiuDt0szDVuIMw7dhPXY0S531A8zWJnhPvtuayabh2-HkS9w0aJVEJH44KiqXZlP6a45MtnUeXjQfdJntWbJiGnh4Kw/s1600/crocus_041511_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXQOBOkiKyUlXB1GwBIM6lO2r7HzjvE8LIp2MhZ1Iw3UYiuDt0szDVuIMw7dhPXY0S531A8zWJnhPvtuayabh2-HkS9w0aJVEJH44KiqXZlP6a45MtnUeXjQfdJntWbJiGnh4Kw/s1600/crocus_041511_opt.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">BEHOLD! The first spring blossoms! Crocus Remembrance. I'm always surprised to see them. Rabbits and ground squirrels happily dig them up.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table><p>
</p><p>At long last... a sunny warm weekend dedicated to playing in the mud.<br />
<br />
With the weather <i>finally</i> cooperating, I donned those much missed, and very tattered, garden gloves to clean up the first of the beds. <i>2 down, 10 to go.</i> The bulbs are beating me to it, this year. Blooming without the usual TLC from me.<br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkElMwsGsYywEjdpmRbyj-oc5-ro77linMN3vQ0f-yXo8oNiPPLowEgH3n8atRILzqqASaslcd5Qef0thCCgDvH401pSCpQgdDnKNZZY9eZCbxN8Eh8RZJo-SgvxAqYHF3YqEOw/s1600/windflowers_041511_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIkElMwsGsYywEjdpmRbyj-oc5-ro77linMN3vQ0f-yXo8oNiPPLowEgH3n8atRILzqqASaslcd5Qef0thCCgDvH401pSCpQgdDnKNZZY9eZCbxN8Eh8RZJo-SgvxAqYHF3YqEOw/s1600/windflowers_041511_opt.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grecian Windflowers (the white ones are heirlooms)are perfect for dry planting areas. These tiny bulbs easily rot in wet spring soil.<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table><p> </p><p>Peeking out from beneath the debris were these fancy little <b>Windflowers.</b><br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsLN9VxYtKmmtVMriUBlpeu1kVm_cxq_-mps7LBE4MECbfR1_Px8m-ATEAWYWWhem9Zdi9i18iTehGMukRM7smH_6FlavsUUOW0BJ9jfUQwNHQLN8G7hJ3x8kgP_kI_BxHp6YSg/s1600/whitecrocus_041511.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidsLN9VxYtKmmtVMriUBlpeu1kVm_cxq_-mps7LBE4MECbfR1_Px8m-ATEAWYWWhem9Zdi9i18iTehGMukRM7smH_6FlavsUUOW0BJ9jfUQwNHQLN8G7hJ3x8kgP_kI_BxHp6YSg/s1600/whitecrocus_041511.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peter Pan Heirloom Crocus</td></tr>
</tbody></table><p> </p><p>Pretty white <b>Crocus</b> trying hard to steal the show. I rarely plant white flower bulbs. After 6 months of snow (I live in a ski resort) I'm prefer a livelier color than white. <br />
<br />
</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdud4vxQnZ0VYpJW3X366F0OLICKORgxtmL3OKEG3J9uA9x5JPq4EnH3e-gqCph0GLHvBCRbA3xOWAdhyphenhyphendHN-E5hTqw-E8RjJYhTmHCDwbbdPzf2Sri-NRJf9U74JNZlOP6IgViQ/s1600/testbed_041511_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdud4vxQnZ0VYpJW3X366F0OLICKORgxtmL3OKEG3J9uA9x5JPq4EnH3e-gqCph0GLHvBCRbA3xOWAdhyphenhyphendHN-E5hTqw-E8RjJYhTmHCDwbbdPzf2Sri-NRJf9U74JNZlOP6IgViQ/s1600/testbed_041511_opt.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Rip Van Winkle Heirloom Daffodil</td></tr>
</tbody></table><p> </p><p>Sparse bulbs in the 'danger' zone. This back area is where the horses play, but they don't like the taste of these heirloom bulbs. It's a second 'footprint' in a raised bed that houses vegetables later in the season.<br />
<br />
</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpftHoNuosgu213n2iFyjOJoEJdh_n5qiqV4BbTP-GWHq6fatFmXWQtkWaH8NiH5A0SalA1Q3JhyphenhyphenkWPHSBeTD0riIbghOoO0k9aFOdQEKnEVxQ95_2C67bc7JYtrCRDgLriIXP4w/s1600/primrose_041511_opt.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpftHoNuosgu213n2iFyjOJoEJdh_n5qiqV4BbTP-GWHq6fatFmXWQtkWaH8NiH5A0SalA1Q3JhyphenhyphenkWPHSBeTD0riIbghOoO0k9aFOdQEKnEVxQ95_2C67bc7JYtrCRDgLriIXP4w/s1600/primrose_041511_opt.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Primrose</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was up early, traipsing around with the camera, shivering on a 30 degree morning, feeling extra proud of this band of bright bloomers.<br />
<br />
We've had an unusually dry winter.<br />
<br />
An alternately too hot, then too cold, spring. <br />
<br />
Though it seems to bother me a whole lot more than it bothers the flowers!<br />
<br />
<i><b>It's as if they have little wrist watches attached to their roots. No matter the weather, they're always happy to put on a pretty show.</b></i><br />
<br /><br />
<br />
I'll sign off with a mystery flower. A mystery to me, that is. I can't remember her name. <i>Perhaps you know?</i><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mnX00J7zaymxh3GJSa1ZWGRqFfskpRrOMDqea0pYkb-YtZ4_MlDl07vB02WLjv6IjDuLvykipy5JbBy-IU6l4TKjViq_RCoe8LEr8vi0DLroMMRS_ZDGazLuPI0CLCG7_fy49Q/s1600/pinks_041411_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6mnX00J7zaymxh3GJSa1ZWGRqFfskpRrOMDqea0pYkb-YtZ4_MlDl07vB02WLjv6IjDuLvykipy5JbBy-IU6l4TKjViq_RCoe8LEr8vi0DLroMMRS_ZDGazLuPI0CLCG7_fy49Q/s1600/pinks_041411_opt.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpftHoNuosgu213n2iFyjOJoEJdh_n5qiqV4BbTP-GWHq6fatFmXWQtkWaH8NiH5A0SalA1Q3JhyphenhyphenkWPHSBeTD0riIbghOoO0k9aFOdQEKnEVxQ95_2C67bc7JYtrCRDgLriIXP4w/s1600/primrose_041511_opt.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<script>!function(d,s,id){var js,fjs=d.getElementsByTagName(s)[0];if(!d.getElementById(id)){js=d.createElement(s);js.id=id;js.src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js";fjs.parentNode.insertBefore(js,fjs);}}(document,"script","twitter-wjs");</script>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-56656311534378994282021-04-13T10:07:00.007-06:002021-04-17T11:38:58.495-06:00Oven Roasted Cauliflower Tater Tots<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP4X9EoNg_avQtAweZB30fu94Uy5jZgwtTN7lF9jVX0Fu2Su_-xLrGEKCWnQzIZLuLCVIibTNPWJKh0rgpdpwYR-vleqp2pbzmmCyoT_OqUl1wwYoucUbPCe-sJVo5eKhQ1he/s1600/tatertots.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsP4X9EoNg_avQtAweZB30fu94Uy5jZgwtTN7lF9jVX0Fu2Su_-xLrGEKCWnQzIZLuLCVIibTNPWJKh0rgpdpwYR-vleqp2pbzmmCyoT_OqUl1wwYoucUbPCe-sJVo5eKhQ1he/s1600/tatertots.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cauliflower Tater Tots</td></tr></tbody></table><p>I've been trying. And, failing. With my pledge to lose a few pounds ~ hoping that would make a world of difference in my energy level. It probably would but it's hard. </p><p>What with the new world order as dictated by Covid. Stay home. Stay safe. I'm just sitting around with lots of time, ~ and snacks! ~ on my hands.<br />
<br />
I am well aware of what makes me fat. It's not the cakes and cookies that are a problem for me. It's the bread. And, potatoes. </p><p>I'm slowly evolving into a potato. I get rounder and plumper every year!<br />
<br />
So that's what has inspired me to get creative with veggies. This recipe, which was adapted from a Weight Watchers recipe, is about half the calories of regular tater tots and it tastes better than the potato version! At least, I think so. <br />
</p><p></p>
<u><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0hxzTspjdmoTCliS6iPfSTLVakqK05qxzu0-IwYh73xGkxbu6TJ5KcOi3Uecm3yt-zeHTdxCVNKZeXTt03anMn4e4fTm2urQQ35ZPrTXemxvC54X5IC9y4cOmJZmNk1fuYlF/s528/slap.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_0hxzTspjdmoTCliS6iPfSTLVakqK05qxzu0-IwYh73xGkxbu6TJ5KcOi3Uecm3yt-zeHTdxCVNKZeXTt03anMn4e4fTm2urQQ35ZPrTXemxvC54X5IC9y4cOmJZmNk1fuYlF/w114-h200/slap.png" width="114" /></a></div><br />Oven Roasted Cauliflower Tater Tots</b></u><br />
1 large head cauliflower<br />
1 large egg<br />
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese or Cheddar, if you prefer<br />
1 tablespoon cajun, or southwest seasoning.<p></p><p><br />
Begin by turning that head of cauliflower into 'rice.' Pop this raw veggie into a food processor and chop it up very fine, into teeny tiny rice-like pieces. If you live in the desert southwest (like I do) the air will dry out the cauliflower bits rather quickly.<br />
<br />
<b>Spread the little cauliflower bits onto a paper towel ~ try to absorb as much moisture as you can.</b><br />
<br />
</p><p>You can save time by purchasing raw cauliflower rice - but it is expensive and contains preservatives.<br /> </p><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-keBvoYukQF3Fxgk4LNRunBSe4R1E2dqyv5VfYsRY85Pe8ER4YRa6EB7l4o3b_TcnFN9EqhqAgUX-UFZ_fD36hohoNHcwymA2MginiwryXvphlhX4VLeIGLckbmkQU1FEOu83/s412/c-r-1.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="412" data-original-width="300" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-keBvoYukQF3Fxgk4LNRunBSe4R1E2dqyv5VfYsRY85Pe8ER4YRa6EB7l4o3b_TcnFN9EqhqAgUX-UFZ_fD36hohoNHcwymA2MginiwryXvphlhX4VLeIGLckbmkQU1FEOu83/w146-h200/c-r-1.png" width="146" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Any brand will do.<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p>Put the Cauliflower rice into a bowl, whisk an egg, pour that onto the cauliflower, stir in the Parmesan cheese. I use a melon baller scoop because I like them small and crunchy. Or, use your hands, shmoosh these goodies into tater tot shapes. </p><p>Spread onto a cookie sheet. Drizzle with a little olive oil. Sprinkle with a little sea salt.</p><p>Bake @400 degrees (F) for approximately 20 minutes, or until the edges are a nice crispy brown.<br />
<br />
<i>* IMPORTANT: Do <u>not</u> use low fat, low sodium cheese. That's just bad, bad stuff. Fat and sodium contribute mightily to the flavor and texture of cheese. If you want to go that route, skip the cheese altogether. (I worked for Healthy Choice, for many years, and I know a thing, or two, about what goes into that crap.)</i></p><p><i> </i><br /></p><p></p><p>I'm a big fan of <a href="https://slapyamama.com/">Slap Ya Mama</a>. Prefer to create your own? Try this:<br />
<br />
<b>Southwestern Seasoning Ingredients: </b><br />
</p><ul>
<li>1/4 cup EACH: chili powder
and onion powder </li>
<li>2 tablespoons EACH: ground cumin, ground coriander, dried oregano, dried basil, & garlic powder.
</li>
</ul><p>
<b>Did you know...? </b></p><p>Cauliflower is white because it's broad leaves shield it from sunlight while it's growing. We've been 'trained' to believe white vegetables aren't as nutritious. Not true. Cauliflower is included in the CDC's list of 'powerhouse vegetables.'</p><p>Enjoy! <br /></p><br />Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-84819223409042644742021-04-12T10:26:00.002-06:002021-04-17T11:41:43.538-06:00Re-Blooming Butterfly Orchids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAt40Wh9qexngCA8unLkudekz08Qrkl7QIBsHOCe6xsFRnJof_BqczNJKqnm_17eJLwkIf5_AMLrLsQy9Ej83_Ma9R5BiBn0GcEjwwkAhrO2foVU4_D3IjxKf_xaXoQx87xa_bA/s1600/orchid3_012011_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAt40Wh9qexngCA8unLkudekz08Qrkl7QIBsHOCe6xsFRnJof_BqczNJKqnm_17eJLwkIf5_AMLrLsQy9Ej83_Ma9R5BiBn0GcEjwwkAhrO2foVU4_D3IjxKf_xaXoQx87xa_bA/s1600/orchid3_012011_opt.jpg" /></a></div><p><i>Phaleanopsis - Moth Orchids - is a terrible name for such a pretty flower. Therefore, they have been re-named (by me!) the Butterfly Orchid. I've discovered it's surprisingly easy to get them to re-bloom.</i><br />
<br />
Over the weekend, I noticed a whole bunch of buds on the <b>Butterfly Orchids.</b> (I've been raising them for a few years, now.) It's anniversary time for them and for me, too.<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmhuzsA8ElaMa3HCKlinbjiZky4Q0p8KYNwxrBBoX1fro5JOiAvVY0qFr5H3hm4B0DljQ61VVI3PUr2Lj5Zc4JSbAnCANEPe6QF8Fc1ZH9MziLyZZAawy69hr2pSr7LBkijfX/s750/o.b.1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="528" data-original-width="750" height="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSmhuzsA8ElaMa3HCKlinbjiZky4Q0p8KYNwxrBBoX1fro5JOiAvVY0qFr5H3hm4B0DljQ61VVI3PUr2Lj5Zc4JSbAnCANEPe6QF8Fc1ZH9MziLyZZAawy69hr2pSr7LBkijfX/w640-h450/o.b.1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>I'm celebrating 10 long, lovely years of working from home, doing a little bit o' this and a little bit o' that. </p><p>Started out as a marketing consultant. Evolved into a freelance writer. (Marketing people are expected to travel. Writers get to stay home and play in the garden.)<br />
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPOTn-U9bwXhQ0fvtrH6KYDbULCMaAsDfKtLYgvOkqxRP54oQFvoyC9WYDgSA73BNonYli0KSShj2Fdi2TzyIRLIGl4CTG-yQlug8AdPKrI99IRgcsBsRTrj04wkUU0cZzSoYJg/s1600/orchid1_012011_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfPOTn-U9bwXhQ0fvtrH6KYDbULCMaAsDfKtLYgvOkqxRP54oQFvoyC9WYDgSA73BNonYli0KSShj2Fdi2TzyIRLIGl4CTG-yQlug8AdPKrI99IRgcsBsRTrj04wkUU0cZzSoYJg/s1600/orchid1_012011_opt.jpg" /></a></div><p><br />So, it's been 10 years, but I still can't get through a week without
someone offering me career advice. </p><p>You'd think they'd have given up long
before now. <br />
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEi2gDWjB9jx4ADg804TSX34W3zKr5UeeOdUGVUElVapU04G5Hf81SRmsWXT0AaRelpqLfj7ALgsK0GOnaqaBL5fsjJMQAFzK8DVPa8GCv0mx9yh5GwC_gzKdCcaNxcAf4j-8sg/s1600/orchid4_012011_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcEi2gDWjB9jx4ADg804TSX34W3zKr5UeeOdUGVUElVapU04G5Hf81SRmsWXT0AaRelpqLfj7ALgsK0GOnaqaBL5fsjJMQAFzK8DVPa8GCv0mx9yh5GwC_gzKdCcaNxcAf4j-8sg/s1600/orchid4_012011_opt.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <i>Cymbidium Orchid</i><br /><i>Don't limit yourself to one variety. They are easy keepers, deserving of a spot on your windowsill!<br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p><br />
<b>Has this ever happened to you?</b> You make a monumental decision <u>and it doesn't come lightly</u>. </p><p>Something in your life is broken and it needs to be fixed. You fret about it. Lose sleep over it. You wiggle your way through every worst and best case scenario.<br />
<br />
Crunch and re-crunch those infernal numbers... you know. Those numbers = the income we all need to get by.<br />
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqIIOGJWVSRpGLKa8sG6fltI__ICDlsuwtGXMGYyGrqEUBE1w_mfXYeUTLetss54FBoV7MbPxlmy8MEF_X2RR7PUNirQvEEvRAO4y1zcIS8SLy5V9vMM9Xu1XExo49UmEPPvHRw/s1600/orchid6_012011_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSqIIOGJWVSRpGLKa8sG6fltI__ICDlsuwtGXMGYyGrqEUBE1w_mfXYeUTLetss54FBoV7MbPxlmy8MEF_X2RR7PUNirQvEEvRAO4y1zcIS8SLy5V9vMM9Xu1XExo49UmEPPvHRw/s1600/orchid6_012011_opt.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Dendrobium - fussy - still worth the effort.<br /></i></div><p><br />
Essentially, you do everything in your power to insure it's a wise idea. This is, indeed, a gamble you'd like to take. In my case: I decided to become self-employed and work from home.<br />
<br />
Happy with this decision, I announced it to my friends.</p><h2 style="text-align: center;">I quit my job! </h2><h2 style="text-align: center;">I am starting my own business! </h2><p>I was <i><b>excited for the big group hug.</b></i> Instead, all hell broke loose.<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><p>
One negative observation after another. <i>How will you survive? How will you pay your bills? Take a temporary job at my company ~ until you come to your senses.</i><br /></p><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSSulFzTWUpOmxk16IN4tTwVnFtNLTZkBgHXMnEooxtvKCQmareXQYfh4SJdYP7tDBwwsHg1TjT9bkJ57gIVmkE4cyI7CVCM1srJLAOJsU6dQz9jlxpVQ9D8GZDp6YTIOy_1p_w/s1600/orchid2_012011_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiSSulFzTWUpOmxk16IN4tTwVnFtNLTZkBgHXMnEooxtvKCQmareXQYfh4SJdYP7tDBwwsHg1TjT9bkJ57gIVmkE4cyI7CVCM1srJLAOJsU6dQz9jlxpVQ9D8GZDp6YTIOy_1p_w/s1600/orchid2_012011_opt.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Soak </i><i>for 30 minutes once a week.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i> Water +</i><i> a highly diluted organic fertilizer seems to do the trick.</i></div><p>Sheesh! I understand that failure is a scary thing for lots of people. I fail so often I don't even think about it anymore. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><i><b>Can you train yourself to be different? <br />Well, of course you can! <br />Start by experimenting with Orchids!</b></i><br />
</p><p><br />
Take heart in the fact that <b>failure should absolutely be an option. Such is the case with Butterfly Orchids.</b> It's just a plant. Give it a go! If she chooses to die, it's not your fault. Toss her in the compost pile and try it again.<br />
<br />
<i><b>Tips: </b></i><br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Set yourself up for success by purchasing a blooming orchid potted with <u><b>bark</b></u>. Orchids potted with sphagnum moss (you'll see these at Home Depot, Lowes, etc. stores..) will remain too damp and won't flower as easily.<br /></li><li>
My Phalaenopsis enjoy direct sunlight in winter, after they are finished blooming. </li><li>Every Sunday, I soak them for 30 minutes. </li><li>The diluted fertilizer, in the soak, gives them lots of nitrogen, for which they are eternally grateful.</li></ul><p></p><p>PS: Inspect the stalks and and you should see tiny bumps where new buds are beginning to grow. During this time, she'll appreciate more sunlight. <br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-41255454419437921402021-04-11T10:15:00.005-06:002021-04-11T11:44:03.835-06:00The Slowest Way to Kill Your African Violets<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYETpLWh8uW8JAeVZ8G030cqHMeTp29sp-T46nsrbSpPyps53wvbHSbBikv6majOkkBVj8MAbREOlonU7AxY7Q43xXTd1-wVlQQxXGyrP6-MjSoYHsphBFGVL_HHO9kAh1jl-/s700/fa-2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="577" data-original-width="700" height="528" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYETpLWh8uW8JAeVZ8G030cqHMeTp29sp-T46nsrbSpPyps53wvbHSbBikv6majOkkBVj8MAbREOlonU7AxY7Q43xXTd1-wVlQQxXGyrP6-MjSoYHsphBFGVL_HHO9kAh1jl-/w640-h528/fa-2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> The petals sparkle in the sunshine. It's the #2 reason why I keep trying to grow them.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">They'll bloom forever. That's #1. <br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">African Violets grow perfectly for 2 types of people:</span> </div><div style="text-align: left;"> <span style="font-style: italic;">1) Residents of Tanzania</span>
<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">2) Indoor Gardeners with a lot of time on their hands</span>
</div><p>If you don’t fall into those two categories, you’re probably an African Violet serial killer like me... and Sandy... and Janet.. and pretty much everyone else I know. </p><p>I am not a pro on these pretty little flowers ~ but they tend to bloom, every month. Perhaps you can learn from my mistakes!<br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXOp7PdAcKdKj7XtzPrgXEMKDefMg486tkEYXWMPvgcJ9xXTo1AyJXcTJzkeeOXlr5gRVqxcqHrt9EXxqPJpAwCdeSZiGjJjDUTITpQLjcByQD8Nxe-e9p_7eHIx9BfPWvrqd/s700/fa-3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="609" data-original-width="700" height="557" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFXOp7PdAcKdKj7XtzPrgXEMKDefMg486tkEYXWMPvgcJ9xXTo1AyJXcTJzkeeOXlr5gRVqxcqHrt9EXxqPJpAwCdeSZiGjJjDUTITpQLjcByQD8Nxe-e9p_7eHIx9BfPWvrqd/w640-h557/fa-3.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>I blame the local supermarket for my African Violet obsession. Every spring, they tempt me with these darling little house plants though the average life expectancy in my home used to be about 6 weeks. </p><p>* The quickest way to kill them is by overwatering. Water when soil is dry to the touch.
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6/3343/1600/637883/BobSerbin.AV.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger2/6/3343/200/808093/BobSerbin.AV.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px;" /></a> </p><p>* Another good way to do a bad job, is to water them from above. </p><p>They absolutely hate getting their leaves wet. </p><p>Set them in a saucer and let the roots soak up the water. </p><p>East windows, with morning sunlight and bright light for the rest of the day is ideal. If leaves start turning brown, the plant is getting too much light.</p><p><i>My M.O. generally involved placing them in a hot, south window where they literally curled up and died.</i></p><p> </p><p><u><b>More Tips & Tricks:</b></u><br /></p><ul style="text-align: left;"><li>Spend the extra dollar on African Violet soil - they need light airy soil, with plenty of nutrients. </li><li>Give them diluted plant food, once a month. </li><li>These little flowers grow wild in one small place on the planet, the rain forests of East Africa. Make them feel at home by creating a humid environment. </li></ul><p>* Put a layer of stones in a deep saucer, fill saucer with water, place your flower pot on top of the stones. (Pot should sit above the water level.) The water will slowly evaporate upwards, creating the perfect flowering environment for your African Violet. </p><p>Which, incidentally, is not a violet at all. <i>But, that's a story for another day...</i></p><h1 style="text-align: center;"><i>Good to Know: <br /></i></h1><p>When planting instructions say: keep soil moist, that does <u><i><b>not</b></i></u> mean saturated. Potted plants, with roots sitting in water, will perform very poorly.<br /></p><p>* 'Healthy soil' is loose enough to allow oxygen in between soil particles. When the soil is constantly wet, air pockets disappear. With a limited oxygen supply, your plants can't breathe, it's hard to grow and harder, still, to flower..<br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-86455354022364747812021-04-10T10:33:00.003-06:002021-04-10T10:40:19.170-06:00Gram's Dee-Lightful Lavender Cookies <p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">"You can never have enough purple in the garden." - Grandma Anne </span></span><br /></p><p>* All Lavender is edible but most of them don't taste that great. Grow English Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia) if you plan to bake with it. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZbQ1oAsa9pVV0jMSzsXlY60ytE7jQXtjr59pW4WAIV3t4lJZ10LjFzJhcGpuCLjJ976THeKpa_aHQyokKkiCWyl-Vf0ThhaTg36HdVOlGS-npFwN0Ale4scC_j7EYc3zAxrs/s400/l-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="272" data-original-width="400" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZbQ1oAsa9pVV0jMSzsXlY60ytE7jQXtjr59pW4WAIV3t4lJZ10LjFzJhcGpuCLjJ976THeKpa_aHQyokKkiCWyl-Vf0ThhaTg36HdVOlGS-npFwN0Ale4scC_j7EYc3zAxrs/w400-h272/l-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div> <p></p><p style="text-align: center;">English Lavender (above) and French Lavender (below.)</p><p style="text-align: center;">I'm a bigger fan of French (Lavender stoechas, zone 8) but it cannot survive our winters.<br /></p>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj06d2qWZQF7wvgwV6C1Juur1UpiHYCsdcI3KlD1gs7OyMhidAl0VPFMABVe0snKRuDrSVUVk_YvYOXNBoe_5VJ8n98xeYyxRRs8BJDzfiVWwgUeHSn-H_1-T9GRx5j9S8kjM50/s1600-h/lavender.pot.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181757069435620738" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj06d2qWZQF7wvgwV6C1Juur1UpiHYCsdcI3KlD1gs7OyMhidAl0VPFMABVe0snKRuDrSVUVk_YvYOXNBoe_5VJ8n98xeYyxRRs8BJDzfiVWwgUeHSn-H_1-T9GRx5j9S8kjM50/s400/lavender.pot.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">However! French Lavender grows fast, by seed, in my sunny window. </span></div><p>
<br />
</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii836YozK7WihMx9udJiQC8bvTdjqs0woJhRVsAvM2k7V1CBrkK8ORUY7RiGga3SkkeNia4GzkiQay6ntvAXvjaWyLYp3gnh_hWddZOqNKLjfML5pp6iT_eugdDEOBM9i_Zja_/s246/t-3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="246" data-original-width="100" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii836YozK7WihMx9udJiQC8bvTdjqs0woJhRVsAvM2k7V1CBrkK8ORUY7RiGga3SkkeNia4GzkiQay6ntvAXvjaWyLYp3gnh_hWddZOqNKLjfML5pp6iT_eugdDEOBM9i_Zja_/s0/t-3.jpg" /></a></div><br />Thinking about my Grams because today would have been her birthday.<p></p><p>She was the gal who inspired all the purple in my gardens. </p><p>She was also the gal who 'molded' me. She didn't mince words and since I've always had a difficult time reading between the lines, hers was the advice I could understand. And, act on. </p><p><b>Here's a fine example of that:</b></p><p><i>When I was a college kid, I tried very hard to be dark and brooding. I
even went through the black and white photography phase. Mostly because I
thought it made me look artistic and hopefully kind of cool.</i></p><p>When I showed Grams my artsy fartsy black and white photos, she yawned and told me they were not 'snapping her socks.' (i.e. boring) </p><p><u>Then she proceeded to educate me on an inescapable truth:</u><br />
<br />
</p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-style: italic;">Kate,</span> she said, <span style="font-style: italic;">give it up.<br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;">You're never gonna be cool.<br /> The real magic of taking pictures is to document the bright spots in a colorful life.</span></b></p><div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Do all Grandmas smell like lavender? </span><span style="font-style: italic;">I hope so.</span> These pics are for you, Gram.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><b> </b>
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgZm23hLUeQK4VXNoy1bYgyZyYudGyrGmRUn-tfgxG2kBSBL8FR5hvwh-t51aMIFDTJdshs8gxeOVOiJeqEXOq3Tp7QgvHbrf8WZqzF-OeOB_Ta_I5IGW3z74FxEVlkUHdm-Y/s1600/cookies.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNgZm23hLUeQK4VXNoy1bYgyZyYudGyrGmRUn-tfgxG2kBSBL8FR5hvwh-t51aMIFDTJdshs8gxeOVOiJeqEXOq3Tp7QgvHbrf8WZqzF-OeOB_Ta_I5IGW3z74FxEVlkUHdm-Y/s16000/cookies.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>* You might as well double the batch right now because you know in your heart that you want to...</i><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKes5YQ721Ig4GdDIizKk6xGUauNqsU9giSTF4Uk1y9Uzr-Df3-RqyczexENah9iyh5HAUazQRueKRmnoWFrUMTqLiQt3-g4NWP44s-HuXdZCqoSykDm7OvdrwQYjvE8uyhzI/s1600-h/cant.bell.window.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181758048688164258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKes5YQ721Ig4GdDIizKk6xGUauNqsU9giSTF4Uk1y9Uzr-Df3-RqyczexENah9iyh5HAUazQRueKRmnoWFrUMTqLiQt3-g4NWP44s-HuXdZCqoSykDm7OvdrwQYjvE8uyhzI/s200/cant.bell.window.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px;" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Gram's Dee-Lightful Lavender Cookies</span><br />
<ul>
<li>1.25 cups butter</li>
<li>1 cup sugar</li>
<li>2 eggs</li>
<li>3 cups flour</li>
<li>4 tablespoons fresh lavender flowers, crushed</li>
</ul>
Cream together butter, sugar and eggs. Mix in the flour and lavender flowers. Spoon onto a cookie sheet. Bake about 15 minutes @ 350 degrees F. <br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4pHgm7olEhTZDas7aB7xeQmcmnUtUpaZu2TqJfdDi-C4jnN-W0EXeQHqzHPbHTAtfwAt_gseXTJtkcuL59GTM5ZvjSPk1AZTO24dOtdnwyy-yhs4TZyp9Hj7n_YaudRdpbeJ/s1600-h/deck.lavender.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181757473162546578" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhM4pHgm7olEhTZDas7aB7xeQmcmnUtUpaZu2TqJfdDi-C4jnN-W0EXeQHqzHPbHTAtfwAt_gseXTJtkcuL59GTM5ZvjSPk1AZTO24dOtdnwyy-yhs4TZyp9Hj7n_YaudRdpbeJ/s400/deck.lavender.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic;">Forced Tulips and French Lavender spend their days sunning themselves on my deck. </span><br />
<span style="font-style: italic;">Both warm their toes, indoors, at night.</span><br />
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<script src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" type="text/javascript">
</script><br />Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-88850438192452486432021-04-09T11:28:00.002-06:002021-04-17T11:51:18.868-06:00Growing Veggies in High Altitudes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN0Wh_ppkrRHsEW0nV94YEOeDd1NxjMj7Ks__Jliy00r5hAGONWwKo0xc99e_euRda1eDlbO7CWq65VbzuchO-GAd7-DtyVXyguVArGsG6dSSLc4sSZ0gjFW_0qEWslSotxMiFg/s1600/tomatoesonvine_opt.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCN0Wh_ppkrRHsEW0nV94YEOeDd1NxjMj7Ks__Jliy00r5hAGONWwKo0xc99e_euRda1eDlbO7CWq65VbzuchO-GAd7-DtyVXyguVArGsG6dSSLc4sSZ0gjFW_0qEWslSotxMiFg/s1600/tomatoesonvine_opt.jpg" /></a></div><p>A fellow gardener wrote to me wondering if I knew of any vegetables that will grow in high altitudes.<br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-weight: bold;">Well, let's see. For starters there's Beans, Beets, Carrots, Corn, Cucumbers, Lettuce, Peas, Potatoes, Radishes, Tomatoes...</span></i><br />
<br />
Surprised? All of these yummy veggies will grow at high altitudes. Just give 'em a little TLC plus O.F. (organic fertilizer!)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3754/2883/1600/carrots.1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3754/2883/200/carrots.1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px;" /></a><br />
AND! <b><i>Time your garden differently.</i></b><br />
* The heartache of a Memorial Day frost is pretty much guaranteed at altitudes of 6,000 feet or higher.<br />
<br />
Garden shops advise April/May planting for vegetables and that's why we feel left out.<br />
* We mountain gardeners need to plant on June 1st and expect a later harvest.<br />
* May nights are too cold for little seedlings. Mature plants are much tougher. They can handle cool night temperatures in September.<br />
<br />
<b>Get creative. </b></p><p>Most quality seed shops offer cold-hardy and fast-growing varieties. You rarely see these at big box stores, like the Home Depot nursery. And, the names might not be familiar... <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">But, there are many varieties of tomatoes that mature in less than 60 days.</span> (Thank the hybridizing experts in Russia and Canada for these breakthroughs.)<br />
<br />
<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3754/2883/1600/spinach.1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/3754/2883/200/spinach.1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px;" /></a><b>Plant favorite veggies with a 90-day growing cycle. </b></p><p>Experiment with root vegetables that mature in 120 days. The soils stays warm, protecting potatoes.<br />
<br />
<b>Raised beds help a great deal.</b><br />
Soil warms faster in the spring, helping seeds to sprout quicker. With raised beds, you can easily amend the soil. Veggies need lots of soil nutrients to produce a good harvest and mountain soil is generally short on what's needed.<br />
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<span style="font-weight: bold;">Good Veggie Choices for High Altitude Gardens</span><br />
</p><ul><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqqd2yXvaHKRRNJyOyFFpsfYFV2E15xNxSPY6kRh6cTajzXJQfgVlhOYShrFpDm8SVfuGyTwef6SYCHc7GNDLgdHeMfJo-jLD8UhOd5es2tHOkqL_ney17J-TdeYFJg_AbNts/s1600-h/corn.1.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149866104683427362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTqqd2yXvaHKRRNJyOyFFpsfYFV2E15xNxSPY6kRh6cTajzXJQfgVlhOYShrFpDm8SVfuGyTwef6SYCHc7GNDLgdHeMfJo-jLD8UhOd5es2tHOkqL_ney17J-TdeYFJg_AbNts/s400/corn.1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; height: 192px; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; width: 170px;" /></a>
<li>Bush and Pole Beans = 60 days</li>
<li>Beets = 50-70 days</li>
<li>Carrots = 90 days</li>
<li>Sweet Corn = 60 - 90 days</li>
<li>Cucumbers = 90 days</li>
<li>Lettuce = 70-90 days</li>
<li>Peas = 60 days</li>
<li>Potatoes = 90 - 120 days</li>
<li>Radishes = 30 days</li>
<li>Spinach = 45 - 90 days</li>
<li>Tomatoes* = 55 - 90 days</li>
</ul><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeEhr6n7QK95lEhRq-_6XWLBKXIJox7iCCLLN2qvv7jNK-IAqFvy_qpeoOfP51ct7Egb-9NTKOmGfwIxNV8NCQvDPMPUpg_zPS2HxpONkGNwVLEHW89gNvH_yPwEaBrK2jWVY/s1600-h/Tomato.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5149866529885189682" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDeEhr6n7QK95lEhRq-_6XWLBKXIJox7iCCLLN2qvv7jNK-IAqFvy_qpeoOfP51ct7Egb-9NTKOmGfwIxNV8NCQvDPMPUpg_zPS2HxpONkGNwVLEHW89gNvH_yPwEaBrK2jWVY/s400/Tomato.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /></a>* Popular Beefsteak Tomatoes grow too slow to be successful in high mountain gardens. But other varieties do very well. 90-day growth cycle or shorter: Alaskan Fancy, Aztec, Orange Blossom, Health Kick Hybrid, Abraham Lincoln Heirloom, Russian Heirloom.. and many more. </p><p><i><b>Did you know...? </b></i>Tomato plants need warm nights. If the temps drop below 50 degrees (F) they will shift their sugar production away from the fruit and into the leaves. I have the best success growing them in large pots. Bringing them indoors, on a particularly chilly night.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27385862.post-65006002060204377082021-04-08T14:58:00.007-06:002021-04-17T11:55:45.014-06:00Mini Heirloom Veggies<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwppaJF9J17h8Ek531KkFtJS2WqVOyCNCuj29Erp4cyDzcXFkoanstvFvdoB3Q0X1kf0dV3p2y-F3vR0mIbgh2VD8WcvmXS1eJAlurNE17N0qbns0CGArUXps0RU30UH8kCb8-/s1600-h/seedpackages.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182521977341234706" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwppaJF9J17h8Ek531KkFtJS2WqVOyCNCuj29Erp4cyDzcXFkoanstvFvdoB3Q0X1kf0dV3p2y-F3vR0mIbgh2VD8WcvmXS1eJAlurNE17N0qbns0CGArUXps0RU30UH8kCb8-/s400/seedpackages.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Yippy skip! My seeds arrived.</span></div><p>
<br />
Yikes. This might be a sign of old age:<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQL7RmDZmwskTL8WU5MOfXF9hm9aqvg6nTHlVDP0ghKaP3fqwcPBc2cNUr85SJuVMor1a_nFR0I0iZe6gXDJysK0Rj5SJx9o4ccXBeC9ZlYurb9I4IrTFCEUxU4ualq7a45KF/s1600-h/tomatoes.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630328011705938" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHQL7RmDZmwskTL8WU5MOfXF9hm9aqvg6nTHlVDP0ghKaP3fqwcPBc2cNUr85SJuVMor1a_nFR0I0iZe6gXDJysK0Rj5SJx9o4ccXBeC9ZlYurb9I4IrTFCEUxU4ualq7a45KF/s400/tomatoes.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px;" /></a>For years, I've been a perennial purist. If it's growing in my yard it had dang well better be a flower. Practical produce is a job for Farmer John.<br />
<br />
Until now. This spring, I have a burning desire to live off the land. Grow pure and wholesome heirloom veggies! My own personal Garden of Eden, if you will. (Who knows? Come harvest, I might be dancing around out there, naked.)<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7CA4Bz0vvH9IVyiAT6vx7qvkZxsqHanXIOCdmJdmKCInH6wp11nOnEaGvwJjV40A3pJ1ISmOjcrpe50zU4PgdHc8XWvnzU_qemEaAPMeePQVE1gFokgWHOxpy60BgK3TEQ4-/s1600-h/produce2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630538465103458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_7CA4Bz0vvH9IVyiAT6vx7qvkZxsqHanXIOCdmJdmKCInH6wp11nOnEaGvwJjV40A3pJ1ISmOjcrpe50zU4PgdHc8XWvnzU_qemEaAPMeePQVE1gFokgWHOxpy60BgK3TEQ4-/s400/produce2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /></a>What's most ridiculous about this is that I don't even like vegetables. Well, that's not completely true. I <span style="font-style: italic;">love</span> potatoes. I'm evolving into a potato! I'm growing rounder and plumper every year.<br />
<br />
So, here's my plan: </p><p>I shall grow them in containers on the deck and bestow this bounty on all my friends. If they taste like crap I've got that covered, too. I have a <a href="http://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2007/04/crossin-line.html">mean neighbor</a> who deserves a bushel basket of this stuff...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGp_dyNyahIpggNf1iuwP-JA4gpa1bUxorquF9JpPnUZbC75UuQO8nyF2DqnSl-TaNtCdexdQaPT_gu2ahhet2JecfKN9fVCRP48xY0pr8a8DmEoPgRVYRCucpV_eBxRDY1Xoy/s1600-h/veggie.cartoon.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183630684493991538" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGp_dyNyahIpggNf1iuwP-JA4gpa1bUxorquF9JpPnUZbC75UuQO8nyF2DqnSl-TaNtCdexdQaPT_gu2ahhet2JecfKN9fVCRP48xY0pr8a8DmEoPgRVYRCucpV_eBxRDY1Xoy/s400/veggie.cartoon.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" /></a><br /> Before you go crazy with chemical fertilizers, think about it. You're planning to eat this stuff!
Miracle Gro, and other chemical fertilizers, are banned from organic farms.</p><p> </p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uWDezSTR290lOF7WrlZayznpZg1viQxFBKSMKGmGXEIBXXwQwYxMONVkhXqej8tptY5LeM8JsYSkc59rVkkFb7GbT-KFCKwOK6kOoBO9pTss5WZJzN2bhgVFQ7VpS8C34YgL/s1600-h/sun_filled.gif" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5183635177029783170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4uWDezSTR290lOF7WrlZayznpZg1viQxFBKSMKGmGXEIBXXwQwYxMONVkhXqej8tptY5LeM8JsYSkc59rVkkFb7GbT-KFCKwOK6kOoBO9pTss5WZJzN2bhgVFQ7VpS8C34YgL/s400/sun_filled.gif" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt;" /></a>Lots of <a href="https://highaltitudegardening.blogspot.com/2021/04/growing-veggies-in-high-altitudes.html">veggies</a> grow well at high altitudes. Start them, by seed, indoors 6 weeks prior to planting for best results.<br />
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<span style="font-size: 85%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Seeds of Change</span> contributes $$ to advance the cause of sustainable organic agriculture worldwide. I think that's pretty cool...</span></p>Kate/High Altitude Gardeninghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06690999267357525527noreply@blogger.com0