Thursday, June 13, 2013

Garden tour

Since moving to my newest abode, I've noticed that the guys I date tend to be quite interested in my gardening endeavors.

When they come over to my place for the first time they almost always ask me about the potted plants on my patio, at which point I launch into a thorough tour through my dozens of potted beauties.

These *detailed* tours always seem to fascinate them. I tell myself that this is because these tours are objectively riveting. I'll keep telling myself that.

Then, if the mood is right, I give them an extensive tour of my vegetable garden, in which I detail the plants' complex histories, unique characteristics, and the plans I have for them.

I know how to show a man a good time, no doubt about it.

But it's been awhile since I've gotten to the "let's have dinner at my place" stage with a man, which is a shame because my patio flowers are in full bloom and my vegetable garden is bursting with yummy potential.

So today, because my plants are just begging to be seen, I shall give you a tour of my potted flowers and garden. Lucky, lucky you.

I'll give you the abridged tour, though. I realize you have places to be, people to see, and grand plans to execute. I wouldn't want my zucchini to interfere with your world-changing.

So let's get her started.

First things first: smell this Heliotrope and then tell me what it smells like.

Vanilla? Cherry pie? Root beer?

Because not only does this flower attract our neighborhood butterflies, it also smells different to different people.

I'm not joking. It's like the love potion in Harry Potter that smells different to everyone because it reminds them of the things they find most lovely. Except this flower only has three smells.

I am working on constructing a complicated psychological analysis of people based on how the flower smells to them. I'm quite certain it will help my dating career immensely.

Okay, now check out this pot:

I only planted daisies in this pot last year, but this spring the wind blew these other white flower seeds (I'm horrible with flower names, people) into the pot. Such a fun surprise.

Now I'll show you my rainbow flowers.

This red, orange, and yellow rose reminds me of starbursts. Probably because I used to squish red, orange, and yellow starbursts into one sticky ball and then stuff the thing in my mouth. The ball sort of resembled this rose. Sort of.

I salivate when I look at this flower.

These remind me of Rainbow Brite's socks.

Just look at those water droplets. Exquisite. Also, if you could just multiply the colors in these pictures by a vibrancy factor of 13,000 then maybe they'd look as brilliant as they do in real life.

Vibrancy factors are real things, aren't they?

Okay, okay, I see you looking at your watch. I'll skip the other pots on my patio and take you to the vegetable garden.

Here we are.

Isn't this a magical entrance? After you, kind sir or madam.

One day soon this flower will be a cantelope. I can't wait to slice that juicy baby open.

Come to me, you beautiful, spicy things. I shall make a hot dip out of you!

I didn't plant tomatoes this year. The wind did all the seed-scattering work for me, and now I have seven rogue tomato plants growing. Thank you, Wind.

These tomatoes look like little peas.

I just said that sentence in my head with a French accent, and then I laughed my deepest French laugh:


I can't think of peas without also thinking of the French Peas on Veggie Tales. And I can't think of them without emitting my most grovelly (how do you spell "grovelly"?) French Pea laugh:


The neighbors have grown accustomed to hearing my loud French Pea laugh coming from the direction of the garden. Maybe that's why they move to the other side of the road when they see me on my evening walks.

Just kidding. They're very gracious.

Isn't this basil beautiful? I just used some of it to make a big ol' batch of pesto.

Pesto is one of my favorite things to feed to guests. If you come over for dinner, odds are I'll give you some.

There's much, much more. But I'll not drag this tour out any longer. So let's grab some mint, and I'll make you some sort of minty treat back at my studio.

I've had lofty goals of making fancy mint dishes for months now, but they usually involve blueberries.

And I have a horrible habit of buying a flat of blueberries and then eating the entire thing in one sitting.  I've done it twice this week.

So I'll make you something minty without blueberries. Maybe a refreshing, minty drink.

What say you?

And then, if we have time, I can show you the remaining 27 pots on my patio, okay?




Are you there?

© by scj


  1. Your surprise white flowers in the daisy pot is called alyssum. It also comes in yellow, lavender, and purple varieties. :-)

    I love your garden!

    1. Thank you, Sharalyn! I remember seeing alyssum up in Washington all over the place growing up. It reminds me of home. :)

  2. And do you really mean a *flat* as in 12 pints of blueberries each? How do you do that without serious digestive issues?! I'd be in the bathroom all the time!

    1. Ah, my measurement terminology is...deficient. I couldn't think of what the biggest box of blueberries was called, so I went with "flat." It's probably a couple of pints — maybe several. *sheepish grin.*

  3. Ok--I can see eating a few pints, but 12 had me very concerned for you. ;-)