Since the first warm days of spring, I noticed the beginnings of “volunteer” cherry tomato plants growing between our 9 foot tall white privacy fence and behind our gas grill. As weeks have passed and many a hot, sultry day with ample rainfall, the plants have flourished beyond anything I’ve ever actually planted. The plants are full, lush and easily 4-5 feet tall, loaded heavy with tomatoes.
So pretty.Week upon week, I’ve been waiting to see some red ones. As of a few days ago, I could see these beauties.The ones closer to sunlight are still coming on strong but are very green.
I call them “volunteers” as they self-sprouted from the remnants of last years semi-successful, “cherry tomatoes in a big pot” container-gardening project. Apparently, Mother Nature is a better vegetable gardener than I and liked this rather random, protected spot better. My “volunteer” cilantro is also coming up here with abandon.
As of today, I grabbed my colander and perching cautiously on the edge of the deck (trying not to take a header into the garden), I picked these beautifully ripened gems!
Much to my surprise, next to the jacuzzi, where last year’s grape tomatoes were growing in a pot, I have three very hearty grape tomato plants which are growing through the cracks in between my patio pavers. Here’s proof!
These are still very green and many more blooms are on the plant.I found a small trellis, put it into the pot (formerly from my “gone to seed” cilantro) and set it in front of the volunteers, giving the plants something to climb.And right in the midst of the grape tomatoes, up pops a white snapdragon volunteer. You can see the yellow blossoms behind it – more grape tomatoes to come!
Spence lived in Germany for a few years while in the Army and knew of these charming little towns and medieval-like villages. I fell in love with the flower boxes in seemingly every window. One day everything was shrouded in fog making it seem as though we’d been transported back in time, just magical and romantic. The food was exceptional – schnitzel, spaetzle and the beer! I only wish we could have stayed a bit longer.
Thirty-first thing: The next thing that makes me happy is glass. “Glass?” you may be saying.
Why yes. I have had a fascination with art glass for as long as I have memories. The first piece I remember being fascinated by belonged to my Grandma Fox. There is a picture somewhere (probably in black and white) showing a tiny version of me pointing to this piece, just shy of touching it. I couldn’t imagine as a child that I would inherit it one day.
A true antique, highly prized by me!
Spence shares my fascination and enthusiasm for art glass. Years ago, we met a glass blower by the name of Mark Haller at our Michigan Renaissance Festival. Over a number of years, we began acquiring the majority of our pieces from him. Some we watched him create, some already blown, we saw and fell in love with and at least two were commissioned by Spence. They catch the light at different times of day and hold a type of magic for us, adding beauty to the home we share. And of course, each piece holds a memory of a fun day spent together.
This is Spence’s favorite piece.
It resides on the dining room table unless we have four or more for dinner. Then, Spence transports it carefully upstairs to sit safely atop my armoire.
Two Mark Haller pieces
The one on the left was purchased when I was traveling in Colorado years ago. The pitcher is a Mark Haller piece with 2 hydrangea blooms grown in my garden, then dried.
Spence commissioned this piece
Spence commissioned the bud vase (back left). The shorter vase and cobalt mug are by Mark Haller, mixed in with other pretty glass pieces.
The piece on the left is Murano glass, the piece on the right is by Mark Haller
The vase on the left is by Mark Haller and the horse, a favorite piece, is by Savannah Glass.
The piece on the left is by Mark Haller with a pretty blown shot glass by another blower
Two Mark Haller small vases and one of several of his paperweights (more are featured in the banner picture on this post)
The piece on the left is antique, a gift from my step-son and daughter-in-law who love estate sales finds. The perfume bottle was purchased many years ago on my first trip to Vegas. The egg paperweight was purchased in Annapolis and has iridescent Mt. St. Helen ash incorporated into it.
This post is part of a series, 59 Candles, 59 Things to commemorate my 59th birthday back in May. Click on 59 Things in Categories if you’d enjoy reading more!
It just so happens that my lifelong BFF gave me a room diffuser for my birthday in May. I love using essential oils and wanted to share this blend with my followers.
It might be nice to have a warning sign before we step into life’s messes.
I love to garden. My gardening enthusiasm knows no bounds. Once the fear of frost is behind us, my hands literally itch in anticipation of plunging into the dirt. By late August, my interest wanes as the endless sweltering days make it less fun to work in the garden. It’s all constant dead-heading and thinning, pulling out volunteer trees, grass, weeds, runaway ground cover and the remnants of what those hateful Japanese beetles have decimated. If I miss a few days, the task seems daunting.
We’re fortunate to have an area at the back of our property line that we refer to as “the back forty” which backs up to woods. It is here where I take heaping wheelbarrow loads full of those things I’ve cleared out, tipping the wheelbarrow and dumping it.
A few weeks back, I took the final load of the day to the back forty, stepping a few feet into the overgrowth to pick a bouquet of wild sweet peas to take to my Mom. They’re a favorite of hers and I thought it would be nice.
Unbeknownst to me, I’d stepped into Poison Ivy, Poison Sumac and/or Poison Oak. Never in 59 years have I been encountered these plants and learned exposure doesn’t always result in immediate symptoms. It took a week before I was symptomatic, last Saturday – two spots on my left leg and a big patch on my left hip. It itched like crazy. I was puzzled. I tried daubing on tea tree oil. Within a day, my right arm was under attack. I thought I’d been bit and grabbed the Benadryl ointment, then the Cortisone Anti-Itch cream. While getting a manicure, my nail-tech, Dawn asked “Is it Poison Ivy”? To which I answered no (based on what I thought I knew). But Dawn is wise and by nightfall, I was on WebMD.com looking it up – and yes indeed, I had it.
I checked Pinterest and found this essential oil treatment said to work. I had nothing to lose.
This was somewhat comforting and I smelled rather nice.
Having all four of the essential oils in the first listed “relief” solution, I started oiling up. That was Wednesday. I began daily laundering of all linens and towels I’d touched and dispatched Spence to pick up Colloidal Oatmeal Bath treatments and Calamine Lotion. By Thursday evening, I was covered in chalky pale pink Calamine lotion, my entire torso, lower back, thighs, right foot, left hand and tummy fully inflamed. Friday morning, I called my doctor, desperate for a pharmaceutical resolution. She examined me (wearing gloves, as she is highly allergic) and advised me to buy a nail brush as I was causing it to spread by my incessant scratching. Meanwhile, Spence is avoiding any physical contact which is advisable.
Now on Day 2 of prescription steroids, I’m seeing improvement – for the first few hours following my dose but as the day wears on, every cell of my body feels electrified and itchy. I’m unsure sure which of the three evil poison plants got me. The extent of my ignorance was humbling and I only wish I’d gone to the doctor sooner.
Spence and I have a habit of picking up rocks on our adventures, traveling the world. We also gather shells, beach glass and other “found” items that cross our path. They are displayed around our house, on the deck, in the flowerbeds often residing in potted plants.
The three pictured above we found in different locals, I’m not sure where.
I think they look like hearts.
Nature is always sending me gifts, I simply have to be paying attention.
Arriving in Italy, we had no destination in mind. It was a Sunday evening around 6:00 p.m. and we needed a hotel when we came upon the charming coastal town of Lerici. Lerici is a town and commune in the province of La Spezia in Liguria, part of the Italian Riviera. After stopping at a small trattoria, Spence engaged the owner to ask for a recommendation. The gentleman was so kind and called the Hotel Doria arranging a room for us. Now to find it….we drove up the narrow streets, climbing ever higher. At last we found it and what a spectacular view, overlooking the harbor. There was a concert in town which we enjoyed from our balcony. Sunday nights the restaurant is closed but the man who checked us in brought us a lovely tray of meat, cheese and bread with a bottle of Chianti. It was a balmy night, so memorable. Here are my best of the best photos:
I’m a Michigan girl, born and raised, proud of it. Here’s a shout-out for one of our great crops. Looking forward to Autumn, visiting orchards, making apple crisps, pies, apple sauce….🍎
What’s your favorite?
Check out my delicious Apple Crisp recipe by clicking on this link:
