Thursday, April 3, 2014

My Happiness...a photo essay

So happy the geraniums are out of the greenhouse and onto my porch!
The black fur is Maggie's, a canine photobomb.

The philodendron wintered in the dining area, the other side of this window
where I am reflected, a rare shot of me.  Now the cat can't sit here and meow to
come inside as she does in the winter.  Mr. A made the table top to go on
this antique sewing machine base.  

Po' folks bird feeder and bird bath:  stumps topped with a plate from Big Lots and a plant saucer.

Another bird feeder made from repurposed objects, an inverted cracked pot topped with a plant saucer.
The real one is a gift from my older son and his wife, a very thoughtful gift!  I'd
wager it was my daughter-in-love's idea as she gives great gifts.  

The brown capped sparrows don't mind my feeder improvisation.

This is the spring/summer/fall spot, under a shade tree.  The table in the middle--a
friend of Mr. A's threw it in the trash and Mr. A brought it home.  After the friend passed
away, the table he deemed trash was even more of a treasure to us.

This plant stand came from Marietta, GA, a yard sale to be specific, $5.  The bottom
two Christmas cactus plants, schlumbergera for the snitty, were rooted from my
Grannie's mother plant, one that has been in the family since the 1940s, I'm the
third generation to love it.    

The view from my front door

Seed for the birdies, food for the kitty, not the dog, "too rich," says the vet,
and water for both plus the occasional lizard which drops by to sup.  This table
and its twin (on the back deck) came from an estate sale.    

Tea olive to the left, planted just outside front door as my mother recommended for
the heavenly scent.  If you like jasmine and magnolia, you'll like tea olive.

Tea olive bloom detail.  The blossoms put out a lot of scent for their size.

Yep, wash the pet dishes and the bird feeders with different brushes.  It's disgusting
what the doves do in the feeders!  Please don't diagnose me for this--I will not take
a pill for it.

My rose garden grows.  Even the ones which appear to have no leaves have leaves,
albeit very tiny ones at this point.

Wildflowers are the prettiest, so said my late father-in-law.  They always make me think
of him.

We have a little sweat equity in these magnolias--dug them up from the woods.  Also
dug up an old rusty pipe, a brick...

Spirea, or bride's wreath, call it what you will, I call it beautiful

Can't leave out Mr. A's windmill 

Home sweet home 

Crepe myrtles have leafed


Found this iron work all rusted in a thrift store, Mr. A
painted it black.  Yard shoes for work, yard shoes for
play, bare feet for blogging 

The view from my kitchen window.  One of the sweetest things I ever saw from here

was my older son and his now wife sitting on the swing, his arm around her shoulders.  

To bring a girl home and swing with her on your family's front porch swing, that's love.  
The plant to the left is another sweetly scented tea olive.  I like the geranium peeking through the railing.