Sunday, February 15, 2009

Once V-Day has passed I always feel like it's safe
to anticipate spring. Yesterday I checked my potted
herbs -- the chives were poking frail green feelers up
and the mints have just the tiniest leaves at the base
of each plant. The rosemary seems to have taken
a hit -- most of the plant is grey, with some residual
green. The sage still hunkers low, as does the thyme,
but the lavender is bold, sturdy and vigorous.
My scented geranium, which I neglected to bring in,
is history. Sigh. Indoors, the rest of the geraniums
are spindly and pale, but soon I'll begin their
half-strength vitamin regimen and move them to
a south-facing window. On the other side of the lake,
my Brandon Street garden is overgrown and neglected.
I'll go this week to prune roses and grapes, and will
put one of the offspring to work gathering up
the muck that winter has strewn about. I know the
snowdrops are up -- I saw them last week.
That's always a good sign.


  1. What sort of grapes do you have?

    Love, C.

  2. They're Interlaken, a green table grape that ripens well on the west side of the Cascade Mountains. Every year I wait, wait, wait until the end of September or later, until the sugar level rises and they become lusciously sweet. Unfortunately, the local starlings also patrol my trellis, and they've been known to strip the vines clean in under a half hour!

  3. O they certainly can.

    There was some sort of fruit on a tree that grew so tall it was higher than the roof of our house in New Orleans. I spent hours trying to learn what kind of tree and fruit it was. I finally succeeded. But I didn't bother writing it down for me. I sent the info to Vaquero for the book coming out in August. And I've forgotten.

    All this length by way of saying that the local starlings went nutz on this fruit for about a week. It made them drunk. Also, since we had to park the car in the street in front of the house, they evacuated all over it. The droppings dried to the consistency of cement, and also, due to the acid or something, put stains into the paint, we were warned by our neighbors. So for over a week the car had to go to the carwash every morning before going to Tulane.

    Love, C.