Friday, January 30, 2009
I almost set it aside numerous times because of that very thing. It's tiring. However, by the middle of the book, and it's a somewhat long one (479 pgs.), it started to get interesting. By the end, she had my attention.
That being said, what I really liked about the book was the number of new words I had to look up! As I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, I love words! Here's some of the new ones I had to look up. Please, no laughing if you already know what they mean! Oh, go ahead and laugh! Life is short!
Affianced [uh-fahy-uhnst] –adjective
Akimbo [uh-kim-boh] –adjective, adverb
with hand on hip and elbow bent outward: to stand with arms akimbo.
Corollary [kawr-uh-ler-ee] –noun, plural -lar⋅ies.
1. Mathematics. a proposition that is incidentally proved in proving another proposition.
2. an immediate consequence or easily drawn conclusion.
3. a natural consequence or result.
Excrescence [ik-skres-uhns] –noun
1. an abnormal outgrowth, usually harmless, on an animal or vegetable body.
2. a normal outgrowth, as hair or horns.
3. any disfiguring addition.
4. abnormal growth or increase.
Uxorious [uhk-sawr-ee-uhs] –adjective
doting upon, foolishly fond of, or affectionately submissive toward one's wife.
unfavorable to health; unwholesome.
So now I can start "The Hour I First Believed" by one of my very favorite authors, Wally Lamb!!!!!!
One of the stories shared from that booklet is that my father's father abandoned his family when my father was very young. Years later, someone, a friend, spotted him in front of a theater and called out his name. My grandfather, it is said, turned to look in the direction his name was called, and then turned and ran, disappearing around a corner, never to be seen again.
Some role model, huh? If you don't have someone to show you how to do it right, I guess there's a good chance you'll do it wrong.
I heard that my father fought in WWII and came home, like many others, with nightmares. In time, he became a supervisor in a company that worked with linoleum. A union shop. When the workers went on strike, there was trouble, a demonstration that went out of control. He ended up on the ground with one of the employees holding a 2x4 over his head. I'm told that what he saw at that moment was himself lying on the ground in the war, with an enemy soldier readying a bayonet to come crashing down to end his life.
After that incident, he soothed his rattled psyche with alcohol. Lots of it. Often. More and more.
I remember after my father died, I could "feel" him in the clouds. There was clouds everyday for a while. I imagined him sitting on the edge of one, watching us. I understood that the picture was my imagination, but I "knew" he was there.
My father was an alcoholic and with that came all of the tortured issues that that entails. Missed birthdays, no-show Christmases, late night arguments heard from my bed.
I remember one Christmas Eve when all of us kids wanted to open just one gift on Christmas Eve, my mother said we would have to wait until my father got home. We excitedly watched the clock from 5 o'clock, minute by minute, hour by hour, until none of us mentioned it again, and then went to bed.
Then the times (plural) that I would go to his apartment, thirty minutes on the bus, because we had planned to spend time together on the weekend. He was never home. Crossing the street, I would always find him at the bar. "No, honey, I'm working. We'll do it next weekend."
When I got married, another no show. My brother gave me away. When I was older, with kids of my own, and he was sickly and bedridden, he mentioned to me that he was always afraid that he would miss seeing me grow up (him dying). Well, he did miss it, but not the way he thought. He never saw it.
When he died, I went to work, not knowing what else to do. But he was present in the clouds. I know that for sure. That lasted about a week and then he was gone. I'm grateful for that bit of time. It was like redemption and forgiveness.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
When I was young, I was afraid to be alone at night. We lived in a small mountain town of 3000 people. In the early days, the whole town closed up by 6 p.m. Everyone was home from work by then and there was not much reason for people to be out after that during the week.
It was dark at night. Not alot of streetlights and we were away from the lights of the city. Many of the homes were summer cabins that stood empty a good portion of the year. I loved that small town atmosphere. We lived fairly close to downtown, such as it was, on the river. Such a beautiful piece of property that held walnut trees, maples, and winding pathways through mounds of ivy. The paths were lined with rocks that we had hauled up from the riverbank in back. The house itself was single wall heart redwood. Even the built-in shelves were redwood. Gorgeous! It looked like a log cabin from the outside, with a huge porch in front, but from the inside it was varying shades of red and cream.
I would lay in bed at night, worrying about what was out there in the dark, waiting to "get me." I tortured myself with the thought that if that dreaded situation did find me, that I might not be able to scream. I would be paralyzed with fear, unable to move, to protect myself. I struggled with that thought over and over again.
That night, walking by dark windows and closed up houses, I saw a sillouette of someone walking in my direction at the other end of the street. I slowed down, thinking to myself that the person walking toward me walked like a man. He moved to the side of the road, close to the bushes, as if waiting there for me to pass. I crossed to the other side of the street and so did he. My breath came faster now and I could feel my heart start to race. I could turn around but there would be nobody left in town, and the only way home was down this street. I crossed back to the right-hand side and he did the same. He was getting closer and I was looking wildly around me, gasping for air, hoping to see a light on somewhere. My heart was literally pounding in my chest. As he grew closer still, I could feel the paralyzing fear grab my throat. I would not be able to scream. I would not be able to stop the heinous thing that was about to happen to me. Moving to the middle of the road, he was a couple of yards in front of me when he jumped to grab me! I threw my head back and screamed at the top of my lungs!
"Oh my God! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! It's just me. I was kidding. I'm so sorry!" As my knees buckled, my friend grabbed me again, but this time to keep me from hitting the asphalt. Relief ran down my cheeks in tears as he held me, whispering over and over again how sorry he was. Jerk!
It's like a water chandelier. I know this is going on all over the U.S. right now, ice that is, but not here. I ran into the house to get the camera for fear it would start to melt. I shouldn't have worried. It's 10 a.m. and it's still frozen outside.
I can't wait to get better at this photography thing. Practice makes ... a whole lot of pictures that you can't use! LOL!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
But we were working; taking pictures for one of our clients at a motorcycle show. The parking lot was full of sparkling chrome, and colorful bikes, of all shapes and sizes. Their owners inspecting their machinery, would every so often wipe an imaginary smudge from the tank or handlebar. The pride was palpable, even from the owners of the rat bikes.
A friend of ours drove up on a trike, a short, rather round, spikey haired woman, with her elderly mother helmeted on the back. The trike was fairly new so we walked over to say hello and take pictures for her.
As we were standing next to the trike talking, I felt a breeze kick up. I had to squint as I felt something blow into my eyes. My mouth started to feel gritty and I actually had the thought "close your mouth." It felt like I couldn't catch my breath. My hair lifted and I could feel it waving above my head. There were tiny pin pricks on my face, arms, and legs. As I peeked out from under my lashes, it was as if I was in a cloud, a whirling cloud of dirt, and I couldn't see the people I was standing with.
It was over quickly and as I opened my eyes, I could see a dust devil move away from us across the adjacent lot. Holy crap! We were just in the middle of that thing! We stood there, wondering what the hell had just happened, and began realizing that we were covered with dirt and goatsheads, a small, but incredibly painful thorn when stepped on, that is prolific in this area.
We often see dust devils in the desert, moving off in the distance, pulling whatever is in it's path and twirling it up into the air. What a trip!
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Hubby got a Roku for Christmas. It's a little box that hooks up to your tv, then you go online and pick your movie on Netflix, and the movie downloads to your tv instantly. Pretty cool. Last night as we were trying to decide what to watch, he came across this documentary called My Architect; A Son's Journey. Inwardly, I was rolling my eyes, like I have a tendency to do, thinking that it was going to be like that program How it's Built, or How it's Made, or How'd dey do dat. Those programs always end up being interesting and informative, for sure, but how many times can one watch how a bridge is made, or the Hoover Dam. Evidently, many times, as has been our case.
Was I wrong about this one! Turned out to be a very poignant story of Louis I. Kahn, and about an illegitimate son that knew little of his father until he went on a quest, 26 years after his father's death, to learn about him through the buildings his father built, the people he worked with, and the families that he shared blood with.
We felt our hearts open towards Louis Kahn, along with his son, through interviews with people who truly loved this architect and the amazing use of design, light, and space. It's a somewhat sad story of his father's failings and selfishness as well as his brilliance and occasional tenderness. Sad, mostly, because he could never allow himself to be truly happy. There's a point in the movie when the son, Nathaniel, is sitting in this beautiful house, with his siblings from three relationships, that his father designed and the three of them discussed the fact that their father could build these beautiful buildings, but never allow himself any of that beauty. I don't mean to imply that this is a movie that requires a box of kleenex. It is not.
The buildings are truly art, and I just can't imagine someone sitting down to envision what he did. This is well worth watching! If you happen to see it, let me know what you think!
Saturday, January 24, 2009
Yes, people, my wild violet is blooming! Oh the future is surely full of promise and possibilities!
If you have never smelled a wild violet, you owe it to yourself to experience a sweetness like you've never known. Here are some other pictures off Wikipedia of the Viola odorata.
This file is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 License
Okay, mine don't look like that right now, but it will this spring. Let's face it, we've had a couple of hard freezes and hairy creatures out there. No, not tarantulas, they are only out in the summer. The dogs, my friends. And yes, despite that thought, I did stick my nose down in the middle of that plant, and was rewarded with an olfactory slice of heaven.
This wonderful plant will spread in time, and although it looks quite delicate, it is not. In my youth we had gobs of it in our yard. When I would go out to water, I was so careful to put the hose under the leaves so the leaves and flowers were not forced to the ground. Silly girl.
Have a wonderful day!
Friday, January 23, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
And maybe they are thinkin' about starting to build their...loveshack!
Northern Lights over Yellow Knife , Yukon , Canada ..
Aren't these pictures gorgeous?
I have always wanted to see the aurora borealis.
My dream is to go to Alaska and spend a few weeks. I would hope to time it out to see these fantastic skies!
Imagine just standing around, looking up, and that is waving around above your head! I would probably end up with hypothermia for standing out there for hours with my mouth hanging open! I wonder if people in the north take that for granted. It would be like looking out at the moon. Oh, there it is again, the moon. Although there are some pretty awesome moonrises. But imagine if there were three or four moons and it was an everyday thing. Ho hum, there's all our moons.
Remember when Hale-Bopp came around in 1996-97? We bent over backwards to try to see it before it became so easily visable. We went down to the beach one night because we thought we'd get a better view. We spent hours down there with the kids and a telescope. Loads of other people were doing the same thing. Every once in a while someone would yell, "I think I see it!" And we'd all go running over to his telescope. When we went home and pulled in to the driveway, there was HaleBopp as big and bright as could be, even without the telescope. I know. But we checked on it every night until we couldn't see it any more.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
The formations that decorate caves are called “speleothems.” Usually formations are composed of layers of calcite called travertine deposited by water. The form a speleothem takes is determined by whether the water drips, flows, seeps, condenses, or pools.
* one of the world's longest soda straw stalactites: 21 feet 2 inches (Throne Room)
* the tallest and most massive column in Arizona, Kubla Khan: 58 feet tall(Throne Room)
* the world's most extensive formation of brushite moonmilk (Big Room)
* he first reported occurrence of “turnip” shields (Big Room)
* the first cave occurrence of “birdsnest” needle quartz formations
* many other unusual formations such as shields, totems, helictites, and rimstone dams.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
A little over one hundred years after the legendary shootout at the OK Corral, a radical South Chicago preacher named Frances Thomas moved to Miracle Valley, Arizona. She brought not only her congregation, but also a dangerous cocktail of fanaticism, faith healing, bigotry, and dynamite. Believing that God had called her to take over Miracle Valley, Pastor Thomas and her cult of followers set out to do just that -- with explosive results.
By Adam W. Miller - See all my reviews Now and then a story comes along which is truly a page-turner. This story of the goings-on and eventual showdown between Pastor Frances Thomas' followers and the men and women who maintained law and order in the early days of the 1980's in Cochise County, AZ ranks right up there with only a few that I've read. It is a compelling, thoughtful and provocative account told by Mr. Daniel through his research of the facts surrounding this incident. It seems a shame that so many years have passed for the other side of this story to be told. A side which it seems was ignored or refuted at the time by self-serving politicians and others who sought to sensationalize the events for their own use. I would highly recommend this account to anyone who has an interest in humanity, conflict, religious-fanatacism, justice and the old and new west!! They say that fact can be stranger than fiction and in this case it rings true. I ask myself "what the hell were people thinking?" after putting this book down.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Whitefish with Lemon Vinaigrette - Giada De Laurentiis
Cook Time: 20 min
Serves: 6 servings
8 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy large skillet over medium heat. Add the shallots and saute until tender, about 2 minutes. Add the radicchio and saute until wilted, about 5 minutes. Add the beans and broth, and cook until the beans are heated through, stirring often, about 5 minutes. Season the radicchio mixture, to taste, with salt and pepper.
Meanwhile, heat 3 tablespoons of oil in a 14-inch (or 2 smaller) nonstick frying pan over medium-high heat. Sprinkle the fillets with salt and pepper. Dredge the fillets in flour to coat completely. Shake of the excess flour and fry 3 fillets in each pan until they are golden brown and just cooked through, about 3 minutes per side.
Spoon the radicchio mixture over the center of the plates. Top with the fillets. Drizzle the vinaigrette over and serve immediately.
Blend the lemon juice, parsley, garlic, lemon zest, salt, and pepper in a blender. With the machine running, gradually blend in the oil. Season the vinaigrette, to taste, with more salt and pepper.
Friday, January 16, 2009
In the late 60's, one of my very favorite bands in the world was Steppenwolf! OMG! John Kay's voice reached in and dragged my attention in his direction. Raises the hair on my arms to this day! He will always be the sound of my youth.
We lived in a small community (pop. 3000) in the mountains. A small town where there is little to do for wild little teenagers but hang out at the dam at night, drink beer, and listen to music that was cranked up! I suppose kids still do that today, but I think it's different. Seemed a much simpler time back then. Anyway, John Kay was there with us all summer long. What great memories.
A few years ago, my daughter called me to say that she and her friends had gone to the Del Mar fairgrounds in San Diego to see Steppenwolf, and she was the only one of her friends that knew the words to all of the songs because she had listened to my album over and over and over again!.
Tonight Hubby rented the DVD "Rock n Roll Greats, John Kay and Steppenwolf" to surprise me.
Can John Kay still play a guitar? Oh yeah! And it looks like he's been pumpin' iron cuz he looks good! And yes, he still has that voice that can grab my attention any day!
His band today is great too. I wish I had the names of the band members, but they are different from back in the day. That being said, the man on keyboards is unbelievable, the lead guitar is awesome, and the drummer is fantastic!
Hope you get to see it. We had a good time watching it!
As time went on, Jack found his place at the bars and his new best friend, the drink de jour. Freddie found his place with another man. Jan found his wanderlust and disappeared for 5 years.
That left two women with 4 kids and no money. They went to nursing school together while working and trying to keep food on the table and a lid on these kids who were on the edge of puberty. The strength of these two women is still a wonderment to me.
In days before the term ADHD, Arline would chase Dennis, threatening him with a flip flop or a phone, or a spatula, whatever was close at hand. Cynthia would sit on her bed, smoking, lamenting about the latest antic of her then boyfriend, future husband. I thought it was so cool that she could smoke at home. She was so grown up in my eyes. I remember getting a few hand-me-down clothes from her once. My first little tight denim skirt and a shirt with an embroidered cat on the front. Did I ever feel like hot shit walking down the street in that!
Matt decided that he needed to stay with Jack and take care of him, when in reality Matt was only taking care of himself. He built and operated his own radio station out of his bedroom, seriously broadcasting news, weather, and parties with his friends. He did eventually get shut down for hooking into city lines, but he also got a job offer from a large radio station that said "When you're old enough, give us a call."
I left home for a week with a friend of mine and slept in various people's cars and apartments in San Francisco. I loved being young and free, in a city that opened its arms to everyone. The music was everywhere, the love, palpable, the dreams of a new generation in its infancy.
I got a tap on the shoulder in the form of a realization that I needed to go home and back to school. Arline was waiting there with my mother, always a best friend and support.
We all made it through those tough times, moving off in different directions, starting families, and turning out as responsible, loving, adults that still carry around a bit of baggage from those days and a few trials of our own making.
After waiting years for a lung transplant that never came, Cynthia could wait no longer and died yesterday. My heart breaks for her family and although I know she is beyond the suffering of this life, it makes me sad.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
This is the fastest-growing sport in Norway right now.
Hubby said, "I wonder what their mothers think of this."
I replied, "Their mothers do not know." Right?
All she had to do was get a tiny hole started and within minutes it was all over. All for the love of that little squeaker. Once it was out, Willy grabbed the squeaker and rolls over on his back and starts "raising the roof" with his hind legs. What is that all about? And speaking of strange behavior, what's up with after Willy poops at the dog park, his head held high, the dirt flies behind him as he shoves his hind feet out one after the other? I know you'd think he was trying to bury it or something, but no. He is proud. "Yeah, I am King!" "I'm bad, uh huh!" Never mind that he NEVER does that at home and the fact that he is an absolute whus at the dog park. The only dogs he really likes are Chihuahuas.
I've been picking up the guts of this toy for days all over the house. And truth be told, it's much funnier now than it was before!Sick huh?
Monday, January 12, 2009
I spent a night of weird dreams of being in school and having a paper due. A history paper yet! The subject was of a man living in the back hill country of Guatamala or some other such place that is void of modern conveniences that I know nothing about. I started gleening little pictures of him in my mind. He made some kind of art (or furniture) that he carved from wood the old fashioned way. In my dream I could see his worn, brown, dry hands working the wood to smooth it. He had two small boys that he was trying to show his woodworking skills to but they were little children that just sat and snickered.
My paper was due the next day and I hadn't even started it! I talked to the teacher and walked with friends, one by one, that all gave me pieces of information about where this little town was and a few stories about this man and his family. How did they know this man?
Next thing I knew I was watching this same man making adobe out of straw and the deep red earth. He built adobe blocks that would be used in making houses in the poorest regions of Guatamala. Again the two small children were by his side but they had their hands in the wet earth as well.
When I awoke this morning, I felt as if I had labored all night long, worrying, troubling over this paper. I'm relieved to be awake, the sun peeking over the horizon, a fresh new day. Who knows, this man may have a name by tonight.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
- The Baby Boomers, people born between 1946 and 1959.
- Generation X, people born between 1960 and 1979.
- Generation Y, people born between 1980 and 1995
Why do we call the last one generation Y? I did not know, but a cartoonist explains it eloquently below...
Okay, the cartoon does not show up. However, the picture is the backside of a kid with his jeans hanging below the "Y" of his backside. Yeah, that explains it!
I must admit, my oldest son has always been one of "those people" that wear their jeans about a bizillion sizes too big, to where the top of the jean is hanging below the bulb of the bum. You know what I mean, right? I think Anchor Blue calls them "way big boy pants" or some such tag. I can't remember the actual name. :)
When he was younger, and I could see his whole boxered butt hunched about the refrigerator, I'd walk by and yank those jeans down, thinking that he would be so embarrassed that he would pull them up around me. But no. No pun intended.
Today, thankfully, he still wears jeans that are too big for him, but at least now they hang low on his hips, covering his tush!
Friday, January 9, 2009
Phalaenopsis are among the easiest and most rewarding orchids to grow. An American Orchid Society demographic survey showed that Phalaenopsis have become America~s favorite orchid. The plants adapt well to the environment of the home or office. From the time that the first flower bud opens, the sprays will remain in bloom for the next 2 to 3 months.
LIGHTING: Sufficient lighting is a must for successful cultivation. Phalaenopsis prefer either an east or a lightly shaded south facing window. West windows should be used with caution. Depending upon the location of the home, the west window may become very hot during the late spring through early fall. The foliage on your Phalaenopsis may burn.
TEMPERATURE: Phalaenopsis thrive under normal household temperatures. For the best results, provide nighttime temperatures between 60 to 65°F and daytime temperatures between 75 to 85°F.
WATERING: Depending upon the temperature, Phalaenopsis potted in bark should be watered about once or twice a week. During the summer, the plants may need to be watered every 4-5 days. The rule of thumb for watering should be as followed : More heat more water, less heat less water.
Phalaenopsis potted in New Zealand sphagnum moss should be watered less often, about every 7 to 10 days.
Phalaenopsis prefer to be kept on the moist side. This does not mean that they like to be left in standing water,however try to water the plants early in the day so that the foliage will be dry by nightfall. To prevent bacterial and fungal disease use Physan 20 once a month.
HUMIDITY: Phalaenopsis prefer 50% humidity. Often a kitchen or bathroom will provide sufficient humidity. Humidity Trays may be needed for other locations in the house.
FERTILIZER: Phalaenopsis must be fertilized on a regular basis! For best results, use Norman's Optimal Orchid Nutrients every other week. It is recommended to pre-water the plants before applying the diluted nutrient solution if the potting media is dry.
POTTING: Phalaenopsis may be grown in either New Zealand Sphagnum Moss or Medium Orchid Bark Mix. Phalaenopsis should be repotted once every two years. Ideally Phalaenopsis should be repotted immediately after flowering.
PESTS: Common pests associated with Phalaenopsis are scales, mealy bugs and spider mites. X-CLUDE, an encapsulated pyrethrum time-release insecticide is the most efficient method of pest control.
FLOWERING: Phalaenopsis plants may flower again for a second time. After the plant goes out of bloom, cut the stem just under the the first flower on the spray. A new spray of flowers may emerge from the node below.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
That is over 700 pages!!! I know it will probably be a very emotional read and not always easy. That being said, the man can tell a story! I love the way he writes. He is brilliant. Ever read "I Know This Much is True?"
Amazon.com ReviewProduct Description
Wally Lamb's two previous novels, She's Come Undone and I Know This Much Is True, struck a chord with readers. They responded to the intensely introspective nature of the books, and to their lively narrative styles and biting humor. One critic called Wally Lamb a "modern-day Dostoyevsky," whose characters struggle not only with their respective pasts, but with a "mocking, sadistic God" in whom they don't believe but to whom they turn, nevertheless, in times of trouble (New York Times).
In his new novel, The Hour I First Believed, Lamb travels well beyond his earlier work and embodies in his fiction myth, psychology, family history stretching back many generations, and the questions of faith that lie at the heart of everyday life. The result is an extraordinary tour de force, at once a meditation on the human condition and an unflinching yet compassionate evocation of character.
When forty-seven-year-old high school teacher Caelum Quirk and his younger wife, Maureen, a school nurse, move to Littleton, Colorado, they both get jobs at Columbine High School. In April 1999, Caelum returns home to Three Rivers, Connecticut, to be with his aunt who has just had a stroke. But Maureen finds herself in the school library at Columbine, cowering in a cabinet and expecting to be killed, as two vengeful students go on a carefully premeditated, murderous rampage. Miraculously she survives, but at a cost: she is unable to recover from the trauma. Caelum and Maureen flee Colorado and return to an illusion of safety at the Quirk family farm in Three Rivers. But the effects of chaos are not so easily put right, and further tragedy ensues.
While Maureen fights to regain her sanity, Caelum discovers a cache of old diaries, letters, and newspaper clippings in an upstairs bedroom of his family's house. The colorful and intriguing story they recount spans five generations of Quirk family ancestors, from the Civil War era to Caelum's own troubled childhood. Piece by piece, Caelum reconstructs the lives of the women and men whose legacy he bears. Unimaginable secrets emerge; long-buried fear, anger, guilt, and grief rise to the surface.
As Caelum grapples with unexpected and confounding revelations from the past, he also struggles to fashion a future out of the ashes of tragedy. His personal quest for meaning and faith becomes a mythic journey that is at the same time quintessentially contemporary—and American.
The Hour I First Believed is a profound and heart-rending work of fiction. Wally Lamb proves himself a virtuoso storyteller, assembling a variety of voices and an ensemble of characters rich enough to evoke all of humanity.
Also in the editorial review section on Amazon, Mr. Lamb was asked what he was reading when he wrote his novel. His response was, "The better question is: What and who am I listening to?"
He shares his playlist, an interesting mix. Music does seem to make words flow, doesn't it?
I can't wait to finish what I'm reading now to climb into this new book!
Monday, January 5, 2009
I'll continue my search. I'd love to enter into the exchange, but only if I can create something somebody else might want. I'll keep you posted!
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Friday, January 2, 2009
Thursday, January 1, 2009
And from this...
Before we moved in to this house, the previous owners had given blood, sweat, and tears to create this beautiful yard full of roses. It's like a sanctuary in the desert. I fed them and trimmed them and had flowers in the house all summer long. I don't know how to take care of roses, truly. Like we do with most things, I learn as I go, mickey mouse my way through. The last couple of years I knew I had to prune these beauties in the fall but I was afraid to prune them too much.
Well, this past summer the rose bushes were HUGE, but gangly, and a mess of entangled branches. Yes, they still produced gobs of roses but the plants looked stressed. So we decided to have a professional come in this year and cut them back. When I saw just how far he had cut them my jaw dropped, but what do I know.
I'm choosing to trust that he knew what he was doing and that we'll, once again, have a beautiful garden come spring.