Bits and pieces of the beginnings of 2014

Little blessings
In early December, I got sick with the flu. I got better in time for Christmas and then caught a cold on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day and have been recuperating from that ever since. Imagine the delight I felt when I peeked out the north facing windows to see the camellias were blooming before New Year's Day! It's as if they know I need to see their brilliantly colored faces just a tad earlier than February. It really isn't the camellias that know. It's their Creator that knows. And I am grateful that He cares enough to send sweet little blessings like this when I need them.

The studio build-out moves forward... without me
Hubby had a lot of vacation time accrued and decided to take a significant chunk of it before, during and after the holidays. As well as doing the Christmas shopping this year, he diligently crossed things off the to-do list of home repairs and improvements.

He removed the last vestiges of the pantry units that ran along the interior of our garage that is to become my studio. That is the wall (above) where my computer workspace will be.

The garage door will be replaced by a large set of three windows to let in loads of east-facing light perfect for photographing and creating.

The only things left in the garage are what you see above. The freezer (at the left) needs to be moved inside where it will reside permanently from now on in a pantry we're going to create by framing in half of the area we call "The Tiki Room". So the moving of the freezer is the next big thing that has to happen (probably some time this week) before we can begin the last bits of clean up around the existing garage framing (removing old stucco, sheet rock and nails). Then it'll be time to install floor joists.

The pantry bases Hubby built years ago came out in sturdy intact boxes that will be perfect to use as planter boxes in the area of the back garden that has yet to have hardscape installed. The boxes aren't made of pressure-treated lumber (just plain old pine) so they'll be somewhat sacrificial and will degrade over the next couple of growing seasons. That's okay since they're on their second life anyway.

This Winter's garden
We always have overnight frost in the winter but don't normally experience extended periods of time when the overnight temps dip so far below freezing over and over that everything gets "zapped" really bad.

Well, in early December that's exactly what happened.

Hubby monitors the weather very closely so when the forecasts showed a freeze warning with temps dipping down into to the mid 20F range (-6C) it was time to take some serious precautions. Despite being sick, I went out and strung some white Christmas lights (the old non-LED kind) around in each of the citrus trees to help them stay warm and prevent serious frost damage to the branches. My efforts saved the foliage but not my orange crop. The freezing temps caused the interior juices to expand and burst the bottoms of many of the oranges--freeze-drying the insides as they hung on the tree. It's too bad too... I had a really nice crop this year.

For the first time I can remember, I didn't have any roses blooming on Christmas Day to photograph and share here on the blog. Every rose that was blooming was shriveled to a brown blob. The bower vine on one side of the front pergola really took a hit and I'm wondering how much of it survived. The red Japanese honeysuckle on the other side did better but still has some crispy leaves. I'll have to wait and see if I lost either of my two remaining bougainvillea. I'm not used to the roses looking so bleak in January. Even the Cecile Brunner (below right) said, "Enough is enough!" and has dropped all it's normally evergreen-year-round foliage.

And then there's the amazing loquat (above left). I am always amazed at the tenacity and heartiness of such a tropical looking tree. Even its blossoms are weathering the cold well. If a frost kills a bunch of blossoms, the tree just send out more in their place.

Again, I'm grateful for the small blessing of seeing life thriving when everything else in the garden looks so bedraggled and sad. The loquat, the camellia, and the palm trees are all beautifully green reminders to me that everything will be green again in another month or two--that by the end of February I'll be able to set out the new planter boxes, fill them will soil, and begin sowing seeds in March.

The first signs of spring are appearing in the garden

Around the base of the olive tree, the jonquils have sent up their spring-green spears and tiny teacup-blooms. Just a few are opening. More will probably open if we get the rain that is forecast for tomorrow. We've had a nice rainy season thus far so the jonquils have a beautiful green backdrop of winter grasses and oxalis that showcase the blooms wonderfully.

The loquat tree is sending out its second set of blooms this winter. The first set of blooms were too early in January and ended up shriveled and frostbitten. I was afraid that meant no loquats this year, but apparently the loquat has a back-up plan in place--making my concern was unnecessary.

Every year nature teaches me a little bit more about resiliency and just "going with the flow". The loquat was the first to teach me this year.

Nestled among the brown stems of dormant water iris, garlic and canna lilies, a brilliant (and somewhat tattered) gazania is blooming near the edge of the pond. Every year I watch it do this in the depths of January... every year. I don't know why. It just does. Consistent, resilient, strong and determined this 10+ year old gazania plant has taught and continues to teach me many lessons if I am quiet enough to hear them.

Only another week or two and I know I'll be spotting the first almond tree in bloom on one of our surrounding hills. Then I'll know that spring has truly arrived. In the meantime, I find little harbingers of spring nestled in corners of our little garden... and each one makes me smile.

The January thaw

I'm posting something different today... something that requires quite a bit of courage. I'm posting a watercolor landscape painting. I haven't painted a landscape in watercolor for a very long time... probably over a decade (if not more).

After I wrote my last post, I felt this urge to paint. It was the kind of urge that drives from a place deep inside like something needing a way to get out. That urge doesn't come very often. For many years it didn't come at all, and I never thought it would again. But a couple of days ago it did.

I taped up the watercolor paper onto my painting board, pulled out the paints and parked in front of the easel. I just started putting water and paint on the paper without any idea of what it would become or what I was painting. I was thinking I'd probably end up with a texture I could use for my Photoshop work.

I was way off.

In the end, I found myself with a landscape painting of the January thaw that often happened in the Rockies when I was small. For a brief time almost every January, the sun would come out, the temperature would rise and some of the snow would melt. It would be a brief respite before more snow would begin to fall again.

The painting really isn't that good, but I painted a landscape and that's a very good thing!

The little things brightening my January

January is a never an easy month for me. I brace myself every year for the month when my seasonal affective disorder hits the hardest and I find myself surfing the internet at midnight looking for flights to Hawaii.

But this year has been a bit different, in a good way.

This time last year I had spent the last 5 months of 2010 significantly incapacitated by my own body, and I was waiting anxiously for surgery to rectify the issues. The garden was overgrown and unruly, and I was helpless to change that fact as I sat inside watching anything entertaining I could find on Netflix.

Having been through that experience and journaling it on a blog so I can go back and read about it has provided me with a significant amount of perspective. I took mental notes then and have enacted them this year.

This year I decided that I would make sure and plant a small winter container garden on the back deck. In the past I haven't wanted to spend money on annual flowers because it seemed like a waste of resources.

But this year was different.

In November, I went to the local nursery and bought potted herbs--chives, oregano, marjoram and a couple of varieties of thyme. Then I bought winter annuals (we have those here) to plant in the pots next to the herbs. I got pretty little violas with purple and white faces, pansies in rich jewel tones, and ruffled snapdragons in a pale peachy pink (my favorite). I couldn't resist a beautiful purple and green decorative kale so I got it too.

I filled the terra cots pots with the little splashes of color. When I was done, it seemed like a lot of work for such a small space. But I knew it would be worth it come January.

And I was right.

Sheltered against the house on our southwestern facing deck, the flowers have thrived despite frosty nights with temps below freezing. And around 1 pm when the afternoon sun makes its way to that side of the house, I go out and bask in it for a while to soak up the important rays that fend off my seasonal affective disorder. Along with some potted lavender that's chosen to continue blooming through the winter, the little potted flowers are my companions and they are brightening my January, making it so much easier this year than in years past.

If that isn't enough and I really need a pick-me-up, I stand under the loquat tree growing on the super-sunny-south-side of the house and watch honeybees buzz from blossom to blossom as if January never happens in their little world. The honeybees on the loquats remind me that February almond blossoms, daffodils and narcissus are right around the corner. And soon it will be spring.

Click here if you'd like to read the blog I mentioned above

January is when the rosemary blooms periwinkle blue

A decade ago I browsed the herb section of our local nursery and picked up little 4-inch pots of various herbs. All the herbs came home and I put them in the ground right outside the kitchen window. Among them was a small little rosemary plant.

That same transplant is now a rosemary hedge that I keep cut down to just a little higher than the height of the white picket fence that borders our front garden. When I prune it the heady fragrance of rosemary wafts throughout the entire garden and settles all over my clothes, hair and skin.

The rosemary's grey-blue-green foliage has seasoned many of Hubby's culinary creations. Its winter blooms of brilliant periwinkle have provided much sweet nectar for countless honeybees, hummingbirds and other pollinators. When I see the blooms beginning to come out like they are now, I know that spring is not so far away.

1. The Color of January Series: 1

2. The Color of January Series: 2

3. Whispers between flowers

4. The Color of January Series: 3

Click here to read why I think periwinkle is "The Color of January"

Life at Rosehaven Cottage: Tucked in the corners of the January gardens

The gray of January hangs in the damp chilly air over the gardens here at Rosehaven Cottage. There is no winter snow... just rain, fog, and an occasional early-morning frosting of shimmery crystals on the rooftop. The beauty of the winter garden often lies low and in protected corners where the frost cannot find it.

At the base of our young olive tree the sunny yellow heads of jonquils brighten the drab landscape, sending hints of their fragrance wafting on the chilly air.

Under the protective boughs of the oleander, the shy little violets bloom fragrant and sweet in the blue-purple color I associate with January.

On the shady side of the house, the camellias put on the annual show I wait the rest of the year to see. Their spectacular display of lipstick reds and rouge pinks are garden Valentines.

Monday Mosaic: The Color of January

1. The Color of January Series: 1, 2. The Color of January Series: 2, 3. Whispers between flowers, 4. Rosemary blooming (The Color of January Series: 3)

Click here to read why this is called "The Color of January"

Almost like being there

My yen for Hawaii is an annual occurrence that happens every January. I don't bother to try to hide it. This year we have been socked in with January skies of fog and clouds that don't let the sun shine through. If I can't drive to another part of the Bay Area where the sun is shining (like I did last week), I usually have to be content with looking at the photos from our last trip to Hawaii.

But this year, it's been different thanks to a sweet bride that asked me to do her flowers for her Hawaiian tropical themed wedding this past weekend. Since last Thursday, I have been surrounded by exotic blooms of every kind in amazingly sunny gorgeous colors. I've been in my own little tropical paradise, and it's been wonderful!



There's nothing like being up to your chin in orchids, birds of paradise, Asiatic lilies, ti leaves, heliconia, ginger, and palm fronds. It definitely chased away the need to buy the next plane ticket to the islands. Well... at least for the time being...

The color of January

Red and green are the colors of Christmas. Black and orange are the colors of Halloween. Red and pink are the colors of February with Valentine's Day. And for us in the U.S.A., red, white and blue are the colors of July with July 4th being Independence Day.

Because I'm an artist, I find myself assigning colors to all the seasons and holidays that are celebrated throughout the year. Somewhere in my childhood, I decided that periwinkle was the color of January. I don't know why. I just did. And it stuck.

Like many children that grew up pawing through the large assortment box of Crayola crayons (a luxury item back then), I came to know certain colors by the names assigned by Crayola like "Cornflower Blue", "Salmon Pink", and "Orchid Purple". Crayola has changed many of the names since I was a small, but I still remember the names. So that's why the name "Periwinkle" always come to mind to describe the color of January. It's not really blue and it's not really purple. It's periwinkle.

Interestingly enough, I have an unconscious tendency to dress in the colors that I've mentally assigned to seasons of the year. So when January rolls around, all my periwinkle sweaters get worn a lot more than usual.

What color is January to you?

Soaking up rays

Click on image to view larger

No, I didn't steal away to Hawaii like I usually want to do in January although the above photo may make you suspect that I have. When I looked out across the street at the lone palm tree that grows behind a neighbor's land and saw the above scene, I wondered the same thing myself. Did I accidentally board a plane in my sleep and wake up in my beloved Hawaii? Even the clouds didn't look like our usual clouds as the sun parted them after a day or so of much-appreciated precipitation.

I don't remember a January that has been more beautiful, sunny, and warm than this. I feel very blessed to have my SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) reduced significantly because of it. It is a very special January for Hubby as well. He hasn't had to endure me frantically searching the internet late at night for travel deals to a tropical locale. He hasn't had to talk me down from threats of heading to SFO and taking whatever plane is taking off the soonest. This is a good thing for poor ever-patient and loving Hubby.

Instead, I've spent time in my ratty chaise lounge that's planted in full sun in the middle of the gravel in our back garden. I know it needs a new cushion, but I can't seem to find one that I like better than the sun-faded one that's there now. And because it's ratty, I don't have guilt about getting my muddy work boots on it sometimes when I take a break from my work to bask in the sun.

Today, dressed in my painter's overalls, I was out painting the workshop a sunny yellow with white trim (I promise I'll post photos soon). While I am doing my painting, there is a crew of men working on repairing the foundation on one side of Rosehaven Cottage. At one point, I realized my back needed a break so I took the time to stretch out on the chaise and just enjoy the sun. I could see that the workmen thought it was a little odd, and I caught one of them stealing some inquisitive glances in my direction. And, frankly, I didn't care. It's my garden and if I want to sunbathe in painter's overalls, that's my business! Being in your 40's does have some advantages.

January's "illness"

It's happening like it always does.

January rolls in with its short days that still aren't long enough for my taste. The fog and marine layer of clouds hang like a grey blanket that doesn't leave for days on end. The air is heavy with humidity making the 50 degree high for the day just not warm enough at all and leaving a chill in my bones. The annual rains come to make our hills their lovely winter green that tempts and teases the sun-loving gardener's soul even though I know that more frosty nights are on the way.

And that's when it happens.

I get Hawaii Fever.

It's a sickness that one only gets if one has been to Hawaii. So those who haven't been "exposed" need not fear.

Symptoms of Hawaii Fever include but are not limited to:

Repeated Hawaiian music playing in one's head throughout the day.

Nightdreams or daydreams about being in Hawaii, laying in a hammock in the warm tropical sun, breathing in the heavenly scented mixture of plumeria and sunscreen, with the sound of waves crashing onto a coral-lined shore.

Sitting in front of a computer screen staring at photos from past visit(s) to Hawaii that "exposed" one to the sickness in the first place.

Frantic late-night searching of the internet for airfare deals to a major Hawaiian airport.

Repeated calculation of frequent flier miles against the airline reward chart.

Bargaining with one's spouse to try and justify the expense of a trip to Hawaii as "business".

Symptoms of advanced stages of Hawaii Fever include but are not limited to:

Giving up on bargaining and secretly plotting to pack one's bags and just head to the airport with credit card in hand.

Mentally rearranging one's calendar in order to accomodate spending the entire month of January in Hawaii.

Writing a blog post about having Hawaii Fever and directing others to look at one's photos from past visit(s) to Hawaii.

Yup, I've got Hawaii Fever--just like I do this time every year.

Don't worry.

It isn't fatal... even though it feels like it sometimes. ;)