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Matchless

No locks, no doors, no little boxes [that we know of], just keys to the past: KeysWithoutDoors-WaterColoredProbably also something for an office in a building long gone, equally unlockable and un-locatable.  No longer at that address, or at any other. Feh.

The garden beckons…

Or squelches.  Squelching is what’s going on here.  For those of you still dealing with layers of Crystaline Aqueous Insulation, mud is surely in your future….

Here in Zone “7b-having Like Zone 6″, we have mud, crocuses, and the beginning swells of daffodil blossoms. Pussywillows!

And, if you’re paying attention, the kinds of chaff you don’t leave around for the insects to crawl out of:

CleanoutIrisBedsNowIf you’ve grown iris for any number of years, you know the damage iris borers can do.  Here’s something to help thwart the next generation of those horrible things:  remove all the dead leaves and DO NOT put them in your compost pile.

My aster and goldenrod stalks will remain where they are a little while longer, but I’ve pruned the grapes and hope to get a little time to thin the old raspberry canes this weekend.  We’ll see.

Wishing you all fair weather and dry basements….

A closer look at one of the roses in the previous post:

Screen Shot 2015-03-24 at 11.41.20 AMI haven’t done any color correction here; just wanted you to see how the pattern was composed.  Almost makes me wish I still had good contacts at the textile school…

These blooms have kept their charm for a hundred years….

WhiteRosePinkSilkBrocadeThanks to the selvage on some of these fabrics, I even know where this was most likely made: Skinner’s Silk Mill, in Holyoke, MA.  The next time I’m in the Pioneer Valley section of MA, I’ll have to visit Wisteriahurst and see what their archives have…

Nesting Material

20150322-141017.jpg

Crochet, ok?

  

Marching forward

Things keep piling up in the rearview, and at the moment I haven’t the right words for them.  So instead, a happy signpost of the season:

WitchHazelBlueSky

The star magnolia in the front yard is starting to split out from its fuzzy silver calyces; the pussy willows in the side yard are puffing out.  It’s too early to tell whether the many transplants have survived the winter, but I am seeing shoots from the bulbs I buried last fall.  I hope the rabbits have other things they can nibble on while I locate where I put the garden’s allotment of hot pepper flakes.

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