Craig and I finally brought my mom the rose bush we gave to her as a wedding party gift. It was a David Austin English rose called Sceptered Isle. It was beginning to develop a home on our front porch and even started to grow two buds despite the fact it was still in its temporary pot. This is what it will look like when fully grown.
Fully-grown Scepter’d Isle roses
I also bought her a bag of potting soil because she was running low. It would save her from having to deal with lugging the heavy bag by herself.
While we were at her house, she gave us a tour of some of the things she’s been up to in the backyard. When I was a kid, she and my dad would spend long hours on the weekend and on their days off working out in the yard. It was just something they enjoyed doing.
But now my mom is entering her 80s. She’s not as mobile as she once was and their backyard, which has now become a bit poorly maintained in some areas, is also quite dangerous for someone like her. She’s limited herself only to the patio because of this.
All of her roses have been transplanted out of the ground and into pots for the patio. The containers make it easier for her to care for them. She showed me the different roses she was growing, one of which was a rose bush that bore lavender blooms. This is one I don’t think I’ve ever come across before. Unfortunately, it only bloomed once a season and that was it. She did manage to take a photo of it and showed it to me on her phone.
We both talked excitedly about rose growing and I told her about the various endeavors I was undertaking. I told her we just planted the climbing rose that I ordered before the wedding and I showed her a picture of the blooms it’s supposed to produce. I told her our yard gets quite a lot of sunlight so I was eager to plant a rose garden. That was when she offered me one of her miniature roses to take home.
I smiled. I felt like we finally had a mutual interest that we bonded over.
I used to be adamant about being a city bachelorette and never wanting a yard to keep up because it would interfere with my nightly routine of going out. But here I am. Not only have I settled down and married the kindest, most devoted man, but I’ve also surrendered to my love for gardening as well. So things might not end up the way you expected, but just know it’s probably because that’s the way it was always supposed to be.
World Book Day is today! Reading has always been an integral part of my life, ever since I was a little girl. My mom especially was a particularly active reader and encouraged all of us to take up the hobby.
I remember as a child, she would usually read a story to me before bedtime. Occasionally my mom would drift off to sleep while reading. She would sometimes even start reciting sentences that didn’t even make sense. I would laugh and nudge her, “Mommy, you’re falling asleep!”
There was one book in particular that I would have her read on a recurring basis. The book was called Obstreperous by Ted Greenwood written in the 1970s.
This wasn’t my copy, just a random photo I found on the internet. (Thank you, Google!)
By the time I had inherited it, it was old, discolored and worn out. The stitched binding was loose, but the pages were still in good condition. From what I remember my mom telling me, it was actually my brother’s book before it ended up on my bookshelf instead.
I don’t know why I loved it so much. Maybe it was the illustrations and how they looked like paper collages. Or it could’ve just been the title. In fact, the book was written so as to encourage an interest in vocabulary. This is amusing, particularly because as I got older, I became obsessed with words, often hoarding our family’s 3-volume Webster’s Dictionary in my bedroom so that I could read random pages and learn as many new words as possible.
Strange, I know, but by the time I finished high school, my vocabulary and command of the English language was exponential.
Books have the power to do so many things. They can open minds, create memories and establish strong bonds between people. They can change lives. What about you? What was the last book that changed your life?
In keeping with my Goodreads goal, I’m trying to stay on top of my reading pace. March was a difficult month for extracurricular activities, so I’m about a month behind. I’m also a month behind in posting reviews on what I read. But now I’m catching up.
I read this book Coming Clean: A Memoir by Kimberly Rae Miller back in February before wedding mode really switched into high gear. It was on my reading list for years when I finally decided to read it. I’m glad I did because this was truly a thought-provoking, emotional and engaging read.
From Amazon:
“Kimberly Rae Miller is an immaculately put-together woman with a great career, a loving boyfriend, and a beautifully tidy apartment in Brooklyn. You would never guess that behind the closed doors of her family’s idyllic Long Island house hid teetering stacks of aging newspaper, broken computers, and boxes upon boxes of unused junk festering in every room—the product of her father’s painful and unending struggle with hoarding.
“In this dazzling memoir, Miller brings to life her experience growing up in a rat-infested home, hiding her father’s shameful secret from friends for years, and the emotional burden that ultimately led to her suicide attempt. In beautiful prose, Miller sheds light on her complicated yet loving relationship with her parents, which has thrived in spite of the odds.
“Coming Clean is a story about recognizing where you come from and understanding the relationships that define you. It is also a powerful story of recovery and redemption.”
I loved the Coming Clean Memoir so much that I couldn’t put it down at times. In fact, I think this is the fastest I’ve read a book by far this year, perhaps last year too.
What made this book so appealing was not only the subject matter, but her writing style. For me, both were relatable. Not to say I had a similar upbringing, but I believe my parents were kinda packrats to a lesser degree.
I think she writes with just the right balance of emotion and wit that keeps the book moving at a steady, easygoing pace. And as far as the subject matter goes, it makes you think twice about judging the people on that show Hoarders.
Disclosure
This book was purchased by me with my own money for personal enjoyment. Opinions are that of my own and not influenced by the publisher or any marketing agency.
Wedding planning is over. In fact, the wedding was perfect. Craig and I couldn’t be any happier right now. To be honest though, we’re both relieved to get back to normal everyday life. No more having to make decisions on this or that, no more paying deposits or meeting with vendors. Now it’s just easy sailing for the time being.
This means finding happiness in mundane, daily tasks. Speaking of mundane, I never even thought I would get into gardening, let alone rose culture. It wasn’t until I moved into this house with Craig that I discovered my love for roses.
There’s a small rose bush right in front of the porch. It was rather neglected when I first moved in–unpruned, untended, as was whole garden: infested with weeds. And although it still had healthy green leaves, it just didn’t bloom. First thing I did was click on this link and purchase from there a strong weed-killing agent.
May 13, 2016. This was taken a couple months after I officially moved in. Notice some of the bare, extra canes.
That’s what it looked like when I first began taking care of it. There were a few dead canes and a lot of canes that weren’t producing anything, just taking up space. When I began researching rose pruning, I realized it really was a bit of an art. There wasn’t a set formula for it. And although there are tips and best practices, you still have to take into account the actual rose bush itself. What size is it? How do you want it to grow? What do you want it to do? Your answers to those questions will determine how you prune.
I know. So philosophical!
So I trimmed it of its excess canes. I don’t have an after photo because at the time I wasn’t really planning on turning it into a thing. A few weeks later though, I noticed some leaves began to change color, and even the new growth (the darker red leaves) were beginning to appear weak.
May 30, 2016
I came across an article on Better Homes & Gardens titled Solving Rose Nutrient Problems and found that it could possibly be deficient in various nutrients, one of which was magnesium. We had an abundance of Epsom salt around the house at the time so I decided to sprinkle a handful of Epsom salt onto the drip line and work it into the soil (the drip line is the outermost circumference of the rose bush where water drips to the ground). It was a quick fix until I could figure out what to do next. A few days later, the leaves began to darken and turn into a rich shade of green. I was fascinated.
Since then, I’ve been like a sponge, learning and absorbing information about roses and rose culture left and right.
There’s something mystical about the rose plant. In a way, they are very much considered the royal family in the garden realm. They’re so beautiful and elegant, but they’re anything but delicate. They have voracious appetites that require a regular feeding schedule in order to thrive. When left alone, they’ll live a long life and produce occasional flowers during the growing season. But when properly cared for, they’ll thrive and produce beautiful, vibrant blooms.
They are survivors. They’re meant to be cut down (pruned) before becoming dormant in the winter, their canes stripped of leaves. They’ll grow back bigger and grander than ever the following season. Their thorns are painful reminders only to those who don’t know how to handle them carefully.
All these things about the rose are so interesting because they’re characteristics that I can relate to.
The first rose bush I have is the one described above. Craig, of course, knew nothing about it, so I really had to just search as many rose classes and narrow it down that way.
It clearly wasn’t a climber, rambler, miniature, or polyantha. It had the typical rose bush structure, but it wasn’t an own-root rose. It was clearly grafted onto a stock root. I figured that out this season when an unfamiliar cane sprang out of the ground from underneath the base. It was a root sucker. With grafted rose bushes, sometimes the stock root will try to take over the grafted plant if given an opportunity. It doesn’t look like any of the other canes and it needs to be removed at the base (NOT pruned, otherwise it’ll come back even worse). So I did what most rose guides suggested. I cut it out of the bush and made sure to remove it at the stock root. This required a bit of digging about an inch or two underneath the soil. Once removed, I then covered it up with a mound of soil and mulch. It hasn’t come back yet, but I’m keeping an eye on it.
It didn’t seem like a floribunda either. It primarily fit the profile of a hybrid tea rose or an old garden rose. But because it continually bloomed throughout the growing season, that ruled out an old garden rose and left hybrid tea.
I don’t even know what that narrowed it down to, but even then it was still an astounding amount of roses to look through.
What finally changed it all was this season, more specifically the second bloom of the season.
After the last frost date passed, I began the task of clearing up the front garden bed. In addition to having to deal with the sucker that was on the verge of taking over, I also had to prune, fertilize, turn the topsoil, and refresh the mulch.
The first bloom was like all the others the previous season: a pale off-white color, almost ivory. By now I had resigned to believing what I had on my hands was a plain, white hybrid tea rose like Full Sail. Don’t get me wrong, all roses are beautiful. But I don’t know, it’s like waking up Christmas morning and discovering Santa brought you a pair of socks and underwear.
So I cut it and put it in a little vase to enjoy at my kitchen window.
The next two blooms that followed it were what caught me off guard. As the sepals of the next bud began to pull back, I could already see that the edges appear like they had been dipped in red ink. The petals, rather than the pale yellow of the previous bloom, were taking on this buttery hue.
The following day, I began searching more catalogs of photos, armed with this new information. And then I came across Peace.
Shared by a user on gardenweb.com.The second bloom from my hybrid tea rose. Not quite so pale anymore!
The markings and color were strikingly similar. I was so elated! It’s almost as if the years of neglect had caused it to recede into its shell. However, once it was cared for and loved properly, my rose plant finally trusted me enough to reveal her true self.
I’m not quite sure what caused the change. Supposedly Epsom salt improves the color of roses, especially if the soil is lacking this particular nutrient. Last spring, about every month or so during the growing season, I made an effort to apply a handful of Epsom salt into the soil and scratch it into the surface. I don’t remember noticing any major changes, other than perhaps the yellowing of the center petals and the darkening of the leaves. Maybe an improvement like this takes longer than a month.
I feel quite proud of myself though and it makes me want to continue with my gardening endeavors.
The whirlwind that was last weekend has finally died down. Craig and I have re-inserted ourselves back into normal daily life after spending 72 hours in marital bliss. I can finally sit down and write at my desk without having glue, tulle, or floral tape stuck to my butt.
The details of that day flow into each other like washes of watercolor in my memory. The strong leather scent of my new, blue Tieks as I unpackaged them from the box. The thin layer of nervous sweat that covered Craig’s hands as he held mine during our wedding vows. The sounds of the gentle breeze rustling through the trees as we stood there in his parents backyard in front of a small crowd of our family and friends.
I always thought I would get married on a cold winter day, but a mild spring day in March seemed more perfect for us. I wore a dress that I paid for myself. It was an empire-waisted, ivory white, floor-length chiffon dress. It had intricate beading along the bust and down the back with a court-length train. It was simple from a distance, but perfect.
My “something blue” were my blue Tieks. I’ve been wanting to get a second pair so what better time than my wedding day. My “something borrowed” was the bouquet charm that my sister used for her wedding. It had a picture of our dad with a rhinestone cross and a tag that said, “Always with me.” My something old was a necklace that belonged to my grandmother, which my mom brought to me that day. All of these things were special. They represented the things that made me who I am.
When it came to my wedding, I would compromise anywhere else but the flowers. I had to have fresh flowers.
I found my florist a month earlier, a lively and pleasant woman by the name of Azar who owns Nirvana Flowers in Addison, and gave her a vision for what I wanted. I knew my dress would be simple and therefore the perfect canvas for a bold bouquet of flowers. Just like any creative, she took my vision and made it come true. My flowers were orange calla lilies, green cymbidium orchids, and blush white ranunculus. They were beautiful and bold, which is exactly what I wanted.
In the last few weeks leading up to the wedding, my friends kept asking me if Izzie would be part of our special day. Initially I hadn’t planned on it, but the closer it got, the more I realized we couldn’t not have her there.
Two weeks before the wedding, I found the perfect ceremonial attire for her. It was a white patent leather collar with a matching leash. The collar was adorned with silk flowers and crystal “bling.” The leash matched in the same way, but also had bling lettering that read, “I do too.” It was exactly what our ceremony need. If Craig wanted to marry me, he would have to marry Izzie too whether he liked it or not.
And she was such a little socialite too. We were so proud of her. Even though she did bark at people as they entered the house, it was more of a, “Hello! Welcome! Look at me down here!” kind of greeting. Still she would occasionally trot in and out of the room where I was getting ready so that she could see who she hadn’t met yet.
About 30 minutes before we were to walk down the aisle, I had my friend Christina who was also our photographer, deliver a present to Craig. It was a book I had put together and had printed, titled, “Here’s Why I’m Marrying You Today, Craig Adams.” I wanted to surprise him with something special, something that would just be for him. So I created a cute little book with caricatures made in our likeness illustrating the numerous ways why I love him so much and I wanted to marry him. And I’m so glad Christina was there to capture the moment he opened it because to be able to see the look on his face is priceless because he was over the moon about it. I think that was probably what made all the stress and the waiting worth it.
We were so happy. The event was intimate with all the important details I wanted. Our families were there and although we didn’t invite everyone we knew, we did the right thing by planning a wedding that wasn’t a financial burden on anyone else. At the same time I wanted it to reflect Craig and I, our tastes, our values and our personalities. In the end it turned out to be everything we wanted it to be.
It clearly wasn’t a climber, rambler, miniature, or polyantha. It had the typical rose bush structure, but it wasn’t an own-root rose. It was clearly grafted onto a stock root. I figured that out this season when an unfamiliar cane sprang out of the ground from underneath the base. It was a root sucker. With grafted rose bushes, sometimes the stock root will try to take over the grafted plant if given an opportunity. It doesn’t look like any of the other canes and it needs to be removed at the base (NOT pruned, otherwise it’ll come back even worse). So I did what most rose guides suggested. I cut it out of the bush and made sure to remove it at the stock root. This required a bit of digging about an inch or two underneath the soil. Once removed, I then covered it up with a mound of soil and mulch. It hasn’t come back yet, but I’m keeping an eye on it.
