I’m baaaack! I missed you guys – and also, Missy March is sick as a snake with some gallopin’epazutick. I’m knee-deep in the garden so….well, this is going to be quick and dirty, flower-centric and because you all are such great sports, I will do a draw, if you tell me a story.
Okay – let’s talk about men v. women. Do men read instructions? Do they even look? Most women I know do – I sort of suck at instructions because I can’t read a print and I’m a bit hasty but I do at least open them up BEFORE I BUILD A FOUNDATION WITH AN OPENING THAT IS ON THE WRONG SIDE. Yup. My greenhouse. El O, would could build the Taj Mahal if I could get him out of the recliner, built my greenhouse foundation. Only AFTER the foundation was built, epoxied together and tight as a tick, did he open the actual greenhouse instructions. The door opens on the LONG side, not the short. Alas. So I now have this greenhouse perched atop the foundation, like a little jewel. A jewel I cannot get into without a stepladder. I am expecting the buzz of a concrete saw any minute but so far, no ‘buzz’. The Old Me would’ve ripped that foundation out of the ground with my bare, enraged hands and beaten him senseless with it. The New Me? ……time will tell. Saw still ain’t buzzin’. Alas.
But the greenhouse is cute as the dickens. And I put my lemon trees in there during the cold snap. Then I forgot to take them out – they’re fine but they are blooming like mad! And the smell, when you open the waist-high door (BUZZ! SAW!)…I know for you who live in temperate/tropical climes, the scent of lemons and oranges on trees might be commonplace but for those of us in the Midwest, who do not have conservatories…this is heady stuff, indeed! Lemon blossoms, with that waxy-soapy smell. So delicate and largely unlike the smell of the actual fruit!
Roses. I always have roses in my garden and they usually adhere to my few rules: you must be pretty and you must smell pretty and you must not cause me a lot of agita – rugosas, with their rugged beauty, fit that bill. I have a decent amount of space in the garden and practice a lot of ‘cramscaping’ so often I forget that I have a particularly smelltastic plant lurking about…until it blooms. Right now all my rugosas are in bloom and…oh, wow. Blanc Double de Coubert is the most breathtakingly beautiful one – I have planted that in every garden and perhaps, when I shuffle off this mortal coil, I can be the compost for one of those beauties. You know they have those urns that turn your ashes into a tree, right? Well, why not a rose?
Dirt. I love the smell of dirt. And worms. Which makes me a weirdo, I know, but for dirt worms = life. And living dirt is an amazing thing to behold and to smell. Christopher Brosius did a phenomenal job with Demeter Dirt and CBIHP’s Black March, both. I wish he’d done a Worm scent. No…well, yes, I do. Though I wouldn’t wear it. I would just spray it on a blotter and sniff it, along with the other two, in February.
Yeah, I know. It’s a lemon post! (heh. get it? Lemon? heh. shut UP!) – but hey! I was caught unawares, I swear. And I have another reason…but it’ll have to wait to tell (it’s a seeeecret for now). So. In the meantime, y’all tell me a story and I’ll have Miss Chloe pull a random winner. I owe several of you your winnings – I promise they will be out this week. It’s been kinda hectic over here (which is where the seeeecret comes in) – once I’m able to tell you, you’ll understand and forgive my lemon-lame-o post!