Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty

A garden is a thing of beauty and a job forever - so true! So is a family. That "beauty" has surpassed "job" is a wonderful relief; I wasn't always sure it could happen.

Holding pen - this is where all the question marks end up: the yard waste bin, the ladder, old bricks, plants that don't fit elsewhere, excess seeds: forget-me-not, poppy and foxglove. It is turning into a garden on its own.

I stashed the window out of reach until I could decide what to do with it - 8 years ago. Think I'll hang it by an existing nail on the side of the garage...

The wrought iron plant hanger, intended for my mother two Christmases ago, was found in an alley.

The very old rhododendron tree - dubbed "the Shooting Tree" by my 4 year-old(?) son - is a hot pink stunner in late May. It's a survivor.

The apple tree got a daring, lop-sided pruning this year. I see the stump now serves as a chalk holder.

Reclaimed items, awaiting re-purposing. Useful, abandoned stuff is everywhere.

Torches: I'm wondering if it's time to find these a new home - we have had no use for them.

In the paradigm-changing words of a friend whose path might never have crossed my own had we not both given birth at roughly the same point and place in time, "Stuff comes, and stuff goes." I'll happily move them along to someone who might actually use them. But I'm an optimist: big changes have been afoot... I'm hanging on to them until the end of summer.

Garden 14:  Harvest
Garden 12: Death and Potential
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)
Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger
Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 
Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs
Garden 7: The Lady Next Door
Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things
Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower
Garden 4: Maryjane
Garden 3: Family Portrait
Garden 2: The Neighbours'
Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans

House 1 : Beaumont

Wikipedia informs me the Beaumont was produced by GM for the Canadian market between 1962 and 1969. Survivors are now collector cars, as most "succumbed" to the harsh Canadian winter.

This beautifully corroded car badge was already affixed to the inside of the cobweb-filled garage when we moved in. It was put there, I am fairly certain, by Mr. A. Renwick, house painter and second owner of our home, two before us. A fellow who grew up in the house across the lane  confirmed my suspicions: Mr. Renwick* owned a Beaumont in the '60s. A brown one.
*The fellow pronounced it "Rennick"

I'll show you mine if you show me yours

The lick of drab, peach-coloured paint under that badge matches the under-sides of the shelves in the linen closet - which comprised about 20% of the total closet space when we moved in. How did people stay organized with so little storage?! Surely they didn't have any less stuff than I have... 

It's not a particularly efficient closet, either: it's shallow and the shelves are poorly spaced. What did the Renwicks keep in there? Not their broom; a broom won't fit. Linen, folded just the right way so the door can close? A dismantled vacuum cleaner, a large box of rags, assorted headlamps, swim goggles, light bulbs, bandaids, syringes, needles*, alcohol swabs, and a spare sharps container?
*Did you know syringes and needles are two different things? Neither did I!

I get a kick out of the weird paraphernalia of my existence - items I'd never heard of, let alone imagined I'd ever own or need: Lycra body socks, Therabands and Chewellery* for intense proprioceptive input. Visual schedules for front-loading and transitions; a cheat sheet on my fridge in case of my own dysregulation; and a checklist on the bulletin board - "30 Good Things About ADHD" - to remind me.
*later replaced by parkour classes

A visual schedule; it's key

The side of my fridge. The grey thing is a juicer key, for all the apples in July.

My son insisted I add the paraphrasing, lower left.

But the weirdest to me is the sharps containers. There is one in the kitchen, one in the bathroom, sometimes one on my dresser, a spare or two in the hall closet. Though the novelty of giving my daughter her nightly shot has long worn off, I still marvel at the presence of the yellow boxes of medical waste that decorate my rooms, and at the fact that my superpower turns out to be the ability to give a one-handed injection, in the dark, to a sleeping child - without waking her up. (That, and I'm pretty good at parallel parking.)

Not the elegant, 2-in-1 solution I had envisioned

Whenever I find myself startled at the sight of the severe-looking plastic box with the red biohazard symbol, it crosses my mind that there must be some better way to incorporate it into my decor. But how? It was a eureka moment when I hit upon the idea to disguise it with a toilet roll doll, thereby also solving the perplexing puzzle of how to give one of those seriously useless - but bizarrely appealing - dolls some legitimate function in life. Let's face it, hiding toilet paper doesn't count as useful.

Sadly, the doll won't stand up straight in the wide hole of the sharps box, and it's a pain to lift her dress to get the needle in. Ah well... another idea will surely come. Meanwhile, the box in my kitchen works great for holding garlic.

Just-picked garlic, curing

I would love to invite them for tea - the Renwicks and anybody else who's ever lived here. I'd sort out exactly who sat in my living room, watching Elvis from the waist up, or swooning over the Beatles on Ed Sullivan. I want to know about the clothes in the insufficient closets: were there flour sack dresses, followed by utility clothing, then crinolines, then A-line mini dresses and boots made for walking? We can commiserate about our socks, snagged on that nail* in the hallway that keeps poking back up.
*That nail, by the way, is responsible for the demise of many a Phentex slipper, explaining why you will rarely find me in a proper, matching pair - my signature look

They will know to duck going down the basement stairs, and not to park under the tulip trees in summer*. I will thank them for leaving the various, painted nails in the living room - perfectly positioned for birthday streamers, Christmas stockings, and front door wreaths.
*aphid poop

I'll ask what weird things they accumulated, what surprising skills they acquired. I'll learn how Mr. Renwick's Beaumont came to be separated from its badge and how that swipe of closet paint found its way to the wall of the garage. I'll find out where they kept their stuff.

Before the garage collapses completely,
I will extract the Beaumont badge.
I'm thinking chain saw...

July 2015

Garden 12: Death and Potential

Rincón of Certain Death - this is where plants go to die. Dry and shady, even morning glory can't be bothered. I like the green-ish, clog-shaped rock on the compressed clump of dead roots from an abandoned planter.

The rabbit is the frame from a Mother's Day boxwood topiary, killed gradually with good intentions and neglect.

The runty, unhappy lilac, which has never bloomed, is looking for a new home. Do you have a sunny place for it? 

East Garden - also parched due to overhanging trees, but it does get some morning light. Inspired by a since-destroyed garden (passed twice daily in the two years before the search began for a more appropriate educational setting for my son), the sedum-covered rotting stump is my favourite element of the garden - if only for its potential.

I'm trying to encourage the snow-in-summer to grow into a massive, cascading clump, by not re-planting it - yet again - into a new spot at least once every single year. I think I might finally have settled most of the plants into places where they - and I - can agree on. The clump is getting bigger, but produces very few flowers.

The rhododendron hasn't bloomed in so many years I don't remember what colour it is. Maybe next year; it's healthy enough...

The bricks came from a dumpster at a gutted house, a block away. I stole them home (loudly) on my son's plastic wagon under the cover of darkness after an anniversary dinner out with my husband. After the 3rd load the security guard, who had been watching from the shadows, thanked me for taking them. Scared the be-jiggers out of me.

Tulip tree, from the front window, decorated by my children. My son's contribution is the (good guys') emblem from the first-person shooter, Call of Duty Ghosts. My daughter begins, "I am so happy..." That pretty much sums it up.

Garden 13: Abandoned Stuff, Things of Beauty
Garden 11: Japanese Maple Tree and Sedum (?)

Garden 10: Foxglove and Weed Digger

Garden 9: Veggies and Sweet Pea 

Garden 8: Gnomes and Slugs

Garden 7: The Lady Next Door

Garden 6: Euphorbia and Rusted, Metal Things

Garden 5: Cement Bench and Wallflower

Garden 4: Maryjane

Garden 3: Family Portrait

Garden 2: The Neighbours'

Garden 1: Lilac Bush and Abandoned Cans