These late summer days have brought sudden storms and torrential rain followed by glorious days with billowing clouds, soft winds, and no humidity. They’ve brought sunflowers and dahlias and peaches and sugar snap peas. And, for me, the feeling that I must get to the farmers’ market for all of these things, not to mention the best tomatoes and corn on the cob before they are gone for the season. Read more
Sunflowers are everywhere now—I’ve seen patches of them in gardens, fields of them in the countryside, and buckets of them at the farmers’ market this past weekend. And I think I like them best that way—together as a group, not mixed in with other flowers. There is something about how tall they stand, how bold they look in the blazing sun, how of-the-earth they seem that suits their appearance in August, when the days are still hot and summer is still with us, but there is a hint of autumn in the air…
It’s a very hot, muggy Saturday, he wants to drive to Assateague Island and I want to stay home and read a book. There is, shall I say, a moment of mild tension. But we go our separate ways. Read more
Queen Anne’s lace (Daucus carota)
“It is a very pretty chandelier of a flower fit to adorn the forest floor…The common carrot by the roadside, Daucus carota, is in some respects an interesting plant—for its umbel as Bigelow says is shaped like a bird’s nest, and its large pinnatifid involucre interlacing by its fine segments resembles a fanciful ladies’ workbasket.”
~ from The Journal of Henry David Thoreau (July 3, 1852) Read more
The three-story red brick building in mid-town Atlanta where Margret Mitchell wrote the epic novel Gone With the Wind (1936) is called the Margaret Mitchell House. And though she did write the novel there, the unexpected thing is that Mitchell and her husband actually lived in a tiny apartment on the first floor of the house from 1925-1932, which consists of a living room, bedroom (also used as a dining room with a drop leaf table and two chairs pushed against one wall), and a tiny back kitchen. Read more
Espalier | noun | es-pal-ier : a plant (such as a fruit tree) trained to grow flat against a support (such as a wall).
They always catch my eye—even before I knew what to call them, I thought they were very attractive. I’ve learned that they have ancient roots and were a prominent feature in medieval monastic life because they could be grown in small spaces. And while most espaliers are fruit trees, roses and other plants with woody stems can be trained in this way as well. There are, also, many designs and patterns used in the art of espalier.
The ones pictured above are at Ladew Topiary gardens, where topiary, another art form for shaping trees into ornamental shapes is prominent, but where some espalier are also found.
Here is a link to an excellent article about how to master the art of the espalier.
As I was preparing for our trip to Americus, Georgia to attend a dear friend’s wedding, I recalled hearing, a long time ago, about the interior decorator and antique dealer Furlow Gatewood, who resides in Americus. Back then, when I looked at the images of his homes, I instantly fell in love with his classic, yet idiosyncratic style—it’s what I might call an elevated cottage style. Read more
Very soon we are heading down to Atlanta and then Americus, Georgia. We will be attending a wedding and doing some work for a larger project, which we will be sharing parts of on the blog.
In Atlanta, our focus will be on the Margaret Mitchell House, where the author lived in an apartment on the lower level of the house from 1925-1932, and where she wrote the iconic novel Gone With the Wind. Read more