Doodads the week of 0712-071622

It’s been a couple of weeks.  Pics have been taken here and there but no time to get them off of the phone and posted.  On Tuesday, the 12th, I took a 17-mile bike ride.  On Wednesday, the 13th, I met up with the Moon Clan Mothers group up north and saw two giant willow…

Doodads — Yard Pics and More

Now that the weather is making things grow and charging my soular battery I’ve been out there and taking more pics.  It’s amazing how much the heat accelerates the process.  Plus, several weeks ago I took a survey for our local conservation district as to what I would like to see their resources go to…

Interview with Sadafumi Uchiyama: Designing Peace and Harmony — THE DIRT

EXCELLENT interview about the nature of gardens from the perspective of a 3-generation Japanese gardener.  The photographs included are stunning.  The philosophy is nourishing to the soul.  PLEASE take a look if you get a chance. Sadafumi Uchiyama / Courtesy of Portland Japanese GardenSadafumi (Sada) Uchiyama, ASLA, is the Chief Curator and Director of the…

dVerse’ 10th Anniversary Celebration Week — Poetics — My Garden on 071321

The edges of my garden curl along green fuzz, concrete, and stone. Its haphazard, organic growth is both playland and harvest zone; where ants climb and dragonflies wheel; where rainbow sways among today’s sky offering. Claudia Schoenfeld, one of the co-founders of dVerse, is today’s host for Poetics. We are celebrating the 10-year anniversary of…

dVerse — Quadrille 127 — Seed Bank

I’ve invested seed money,believing in the ABC’s:asters yield deep purple;balloon flowers top charts;cosmos caps capture interest. Incented, content, I sniff,blessed by return kindness.My shareholder butterfly strawglugs from milkweed constellations. Wreaths, bouquets, cinnamon fieldsof carnations — priceless wealth.   Today when I dropped off borrowed materials and picked up the new batch, I decided to take…

#FF — Culinary Campaign

PHOTO PROMPT – © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields All season they march out, culinary soldiers, to our raised bed, pillaging our peppery leaves and primary-colored blossoms. Armed with birchwood baskets, their hands reach with harvesting intent, plucking at-will, collecting our dismembered corpses with bright smiles. Some even whistle as they work. Then back they trudge to dissect…