Showing posts with label plants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plants. Show all posts

Friday, June 14, 2024

Something new every day!

 by Diana McCollum

This year we've planted a lot of flowers and vegetables in our yard. Early mornings when it is cool I like to meander on the gravel paths and check the flowers and vegetable gardens. My husband always plants dahlias they are some of our favorites. When we moved in here 3 yrs ago, there was just a lawn and dirt out back. 

back yard

Area desert before we developed


Now these areas look so much different.

There are flowers and vegetable gardens.





This area we now call Rubble Butte. We have different kinds of catus and a fire pit, mounds of rocks.


The garden areas are developed too. With some in the ground gardens and some in grow boxes.
Bouquet from the garden

Peas, beans, squash and roses!


Kitchen garden-green onions, radishes, lettuce herbs etc




It's been a joy to watch seeds sprout and blossoms bloom. 

And I had my first fresh salad with lettuce, radish and basil from my garden. Tomatoes are coming along but not ripe yet, egg plants have set and we have a few growing. Only blooms on the squash, melons and watermelons.

Those are the new things I look for each day as I water the plants. Blooms, new growth, tendrils and new sprouts.

Do you have flowers or vegetables you enjoy?

HAPPY SUMMER(I know it's not here yet, but soon!)

Monday, August 23, 2021

Thankful for Learning New Things

 By Courtney Pierce

I’m thankful for many, many things in life, but I have to say that 2021 took “being thankful” to new heights. I’ve lived through turbulent times, not like the atrocities experienced in WW2, but close. Lock downs, censorship, distancing, and tearing apart of the family unit in schools have weighed heavy on my heart. Their slave playbook is trying to rear its ugly head in current events, but it won’t work. We boomers have too much resilience to not overcome adversity. Although we may feel drowned out by yelling, accusations, and downright lies, we have a voice . . . a big voice.

After more than forty years, we’re finally getting to the truth. Some of the nuggets we may not like; others might blow us away. That’s a subject for another blog in about six months. History in the making is still bubbling on the stove. Truth serum. Veritas elixir.

Spring of 2021 sprang forth with an idea when my career industry shut down. No concerts, no Broadway shows, no gathering of entertainment.  I switched gears to work at a local family-owned nursery while I finished my new book. My mother was a commercial organic gardener and got the bug. I learned all the Almanac wisdom from her and my grandmother.  My husband added more. It was a priority for us to create our own sustainable garden.

But after working in a huge commercial nursery that was beloved throughout the entire Flathead Valley, I found my niche. I learned much from dealing with the public . . . not just any public.  Most of the 40-year customers had been coming there to pay top dollar for beauty, walk the aisles with their dogs, talk about their kids, and seek help for what they didn’t know.

Other than getting back into shape at 22,000 steps a day (according to my FitBit), I reveled in working physically hard. Next came listening to the 30-year-experts who gave me plant advice. I drank in every detail of alchemy of our area, trends of varieties, and optimum conditions of our Zone. There’s a lot more to sticking a plant in the ground and expecting it to grow.

I had an epiphany that I’d stumbled into something special and quite personal: the customers.

“Are you looking for annuals that do well in sun or shade? Or would you like perennials that come back every year?”

“What’s your favorite color combination?”

“How much time do you have to water?”

Greenhouse after greenhouse, I zigzagged to show off our thousands of living trophies. These questions were how I got so many physical steps, so many overflowing carts, and so many hugs of thanks. Through our human connection, the customers were thankful, and so was I. I reveled in helping puzzle the plants and baskets into their cars and SUVs. The customers who wanted to plant their gardens, plant by plant, inspired me to spend the time to help them achieve the daily joy of blooms. The joy hung from their porches, graced their raised beds, encircled their mail boxes.

That was the goal . . . the crowning achievement of helping others.  My customers were ecstatic about leaving with their garden transformations of plants. Like me, they wanted to nurture living plants and help them thrive. I had no agenda except to make them happy.

As a writer, I captured that emotion and incorporated into my prose. You can’t make this stuff up. I have to experience the emotion of what I write, even if it’s a fictional story. I was accused once by a boss for being too benevolent. Their negative accusation was a personal badge of honor for me.

Every 25 years or so, we move up one generational seat on the life bus. In my teens, I remember thinking what it would be like to be grown up, taking care of myself, earning my future security, and being “old.” Back then, old age was imagining future life in my sixties. I’ve now arrived at the place that seemed so far away. I’m pretty darned close to the driver seat on the bus. The good news is that I still feel as young as I did in my teens. The only difference is that I have more wisdom from experience . . .  gain and loss, joy and sorrow, enlightenment and disillusionment.

My husband and I, my siblings, and my in-law siblings will soon take over as drivers of the bus, to maneuver through the curves and obstacles of what our current turbulent life has to offer us. We boomers are heartbroken to let go of the generation above us, those who’ve put their heart into investing our generation. If not already, they’ve handed over the wheel of trust to us. We can’t let them down, and we will get through the summits and valleys ahead.

At stake is everything right now, but when we stand tall, we will still have our country, our freedoms, and our sovereignty. Freedom is a precious gift we must hold dear. It can still slip from our fingers when we look the other way or have our voices censored. Our flag is an amazing symbol, along with all those who’ve died to fight for it. We’re not chattel who have to show “papers” to shop, travel, or eat at a restaurant. It’s happening in real time. Check out Australia, New Zealand, France, and the United Kingdom.

We’re at a crossroads of tyranny or freedom. We can’t "unsee" what’s about to put in front of us. We can feel it ramping up.  No more sleeping or blind trust.

In spite of everything that’s happening in the world,  I’m thankful for my family. They hold my spirit in their hands, and I hold theirs.

Co
urtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Kalispell, Montana with her husband and stepdaughter. She writes for the baby boomer audience. She spent 28 years as an executive in the entertainment industry and used her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. She studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and Authors of the Flathead. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal.

Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com.
Check out all of Courtney's books: 


New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."

Coming in 2022!


When Aubrey Cenderon moves to Montana after the death of her father, the peace and quiet of Big Sky Country becomes complicated with a knock on the door from the sheriff. An injured grizzly bear is on the loose and it must be eliminated before it kills again. The sheriff's insistence that she buy a gun for protection will present Aubrey with some serious soul-searching, because the grizzly-on-the-run is hunting her too . . . for a different reason.