Yarn.  Just yarn – glowing there.  We’ve been scurrying around for all of August finishing up three great new collections for C.R. Gibson which are going to come out next January.  In the meantime, these spheres continue to luminesce by the batteries of their own potential.

We haven’t posted a Something Lovely in a while, but it’s not because we haven’t been surrounded by loveliness!  Part of it is due to a particularly tight deadline and many hours in front of the lovely computer, but part of it is due to just not having the camera handy at just the loveliest moment.  But day before yesterday, after zipping to the last UPS drop-off with a package full of art, we decided we needed to go for a walk, and this is the backdrop that surrounded us.  Now that’s pretty lovely in a grand sort of way.
We hope you are enjoying some wonderful summer evenings, too.

You might have heard of The Chic Gardener, the Savvy Gardener, the Confident Gardener and even the Skinny Gardener … but if I were to write a gardening book, I think I might have to name mine, The Bewildered Gardener.  My philosophy to gardening is to buy a plant with a tag that tells me that I am to place it in the sun or the shade and plant it thus.  Then I forget about it and a few weeks later I am either surprised with delight or struck with the resignation that my experiment didn’t work.  I either think, “Wow, Cathy, you have one green thumb.” or I think, “Gee, Cathy, it’s probably better that you use your thumb (along with other fingers) to draw.”

About 6 weeks ago, I bought two little squash plants.  (I was inspired by the great squash success of my friend and designer, Leslie Lewis Siegler, who now lives in sunny California.  You can find a great squash recipes from Leslie’s blog here.  Of course, she is planting in lush verdant California, while I am planting on top of a limestone hill, but still.)  So, I applied my gardening method to the two little squash babies by planting them in the sun, as instructed, and, then promptly forgetting them. Today, when I went outside to pat the dog, I looked down and, SURPRISE,  there under the huge fat prickly leaves were two yellow squash blossoms.  Then I looked closer and realized that there were eight!  I am a squash growing ninja!  Now, I will go back into my state of horticulture speculation and wonder whether the flowers will actually turn into squashes  that can be eaten by humans before the bugs or birds.  I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, happy summer from The Bewildered Gardener.

P.S. Below, I am dreaming of my possible new squashettes.  I’m not sure if I planted yellow squash or zucchini, so I am dreaming of both.

Most of you were correct.  Even though I thought Neville was planning to mend his ways, he was indeed planning another heist, and this time we didn’t even know about the theft until we were well underway with our puzzle.  Julianna and I just didn’t feel complete after the first summer puzzle was vandalized by our pup, so we decided to start on another.  And, as you can see (exhibit b above), Neville was at it again.  And, this time, he was sneakier, swallowing the evidence before we could catch him.

Here’s Neville after he walked on the bad side.  Once again, I just know he is repentant … but those around me have told me I am just seeing him through loving mother’s eyes and that he is really a scamp.

Know any good rehab places for puzzle-thievin’ pups?

Photo credit: Julianna Heck, who, after watching many episodes of CSI can recognize a guilt-ridden suspect in an instant.

I couldn’t decide between the elephants or the giraffes for the center square – because those two have always been my favorite, but as you can see the elephants won out.  I heard somewhere that elephants with raised trunks are good luck, so I’m hoping they’ll use their gifts to make this block fit well with the other contributions coming in from all over the country.

Here’s the flickr pool of some other quilt blocks that people have donated.  Sometimes during lunch I’ll watch one of these pools as a slide show to get inspiration – it’s very satisfying.

So, Julianna comes running into the studio and sets this little jewel (a) next to my computer saying with concern, “Mom, look at this.  What do you think it is?”

I suggested, “Is it chewed gum? How about wet paper? A cocoon? Yuk. Creepy. Get that away. I have no idea.”

I thought about making this post a contest and asking all of you to guess.  But, I just don’t think it’s guessable, so I’ll just have to tell you.  It’s one single puzzle piece from our summer puzzle, extracted from the mouth of our beloved dog and now puzzle-piece thief, Neville. Fascinatingly, the knowledge that there was one missing piece completely changed our puzzle-solving strategy.  We consider ourselves jigsaw ninjas around here, but this time, we noticed that we were not spending the normal amount of consideration time on any one opening, because any given position could be the spot for that one important freshly-chewed piece.  Because we gave up sooner each time, the solving of this puzzle dragged on and on.  We just weren’t up to our normal puzzle speed and agility. Nevertheless, we were finally able to finish it, and are happy to present our finished product for the summer of 2010 … no thanks to Neville.

Below: Cathy and Jules in the joyful early stages of puzzling before Neville’s crime.

Below: Neville at the puzzle table.  Since I am  his adoring “mom,” I think he has a look of remorse and great regret over his misconduct with a vow in his heart to change his ways.  Others in my family are pretty sure he is planning the next heist.

Process:

#1  Because I didn’t have any succulents growing roots in the closet like Ellen, I went to my favorite nearby nursery with tea tin in hand.

#2  Because this pepper plant was begging to be displayed from my matching tea tin, I decided to forego the succulent idea and snapped up the peppers, adding a potato vine as an accent.

#3  Because there would be no drainage, I filled the tea tin about half way with pebbles.

#4  Because pepper plants must need more drainage than that, it died.

#5  Because I am lucky and the potato plant is hearty, the bright limey leaves of my accent plant are thriving!

(You can probably gather from the description of my process that Ellen’s limited gardening skills might be genetic.)

Below:  My tea tin triumph (before the pepper plant expired) … with a mini succulent garden planted in the tea tin top.

If you are better with plants than I am, which you probably are, you will undoubtedly have a million choices of sweet baby flowers that would be beautiful in a matching tea container; but alas, I can only manage to grow one thing – cacti – so here’s a little tutorial on transplanting succulent cuttings.

#1 cut off desired plant piece above a bud

#2 put it somewhere dry and forget about it

#3 remember it, a few months later, and surprise! it will have grown some roots

#4 plant in the tea-tin in some quick-draining soil and forget about it again until next time it needs another trim

(You can probably see from the instructions why I am not a great gardener, but thanks to a friend of ours who is a card-carrying member of the Cactus and Succulent Society of America, this has been working out for me pretty well over the last few years.)

Below: Those little guys will plump up right away after you water them – I promise.  Here is a photo from the day of transplant.

And this is from a few weeks later:

And here’s a link to Harney & Sons, which not only makes lovely tins, but also sells nice tea.

Happy planting!

We reported on this summer phenomenon when everyone was visiting the California studio last summer, but here is a slice of the sweet reward from this year’s first big harvest.  Many thanks to my sweet husband who comes out of the bushes as if he has been in a blackberry war, while I delicately cull from the outskirts with my hanger and tupperware bowls.

Happy mid-July and full bright peak of summer!

Julianna gave these rose gloves to me for Mother’s Day and I LOVE them. Not a single thorn can get through the thick leather suede. They allow me to prune roses with reckless abandon.  I even wear them when whacking back our gigantic bougainvillea, which has super-gigantic thorns, and I return unscathed. Plus, they are fashionable, to boot.

See below: fierce thorns which were unable to pierce these hearty gloves.