It's astonishing, what you can find in the winter garden.
When all is sparse and dry, there are still garden treasures to be found.
Inspiration for art and palette.
And wandering mind it seems, as this post curiously unravels.
The strawberry leaves turn crimson & have my full attention.
I take a few and find myself brushing up against arugula flowers.
A scent so peppery and buttery all at once.
Such a flavor.
I love that it has jumped outside the vegetable garden and grows in hearty patches everywhere.
I collect some of my favorite winter garden finds.
The lacy dried out casings of tomatillos.
Intricate & paper thin.
Don't mind me as I give the rosemary a pinch as I walk by.
I have made ever so many rosemary roasted potatoes with chicken in the oven this winter.
I decide to collect a bundle of garden loot, see what I can come up with.
I make a pouch out of my shirt and fill it.
Dry bits of black eyed susans amuse me.
As do coreopsis tufts and golden nettle berries.
I can't help but get distracted by the Brussels sprouts, which are ready for picking.
I love them thrown in a hot pan with a little olive oil, sauteed with garlic, craisins and slivered almonds.
Then doused with balsamic and allowed to sautee with the lid on.
I adore how they grow up a giant stalk.
I pick off all the big leaves so I can see them better.
We will most certainly be having Brussels sprouts tomorrow.
I skedaddle on with my loot in my shirt, admiring sweet alyssum peeking through rock paths.
And I nearly gasp at the perfectly witchy look of the gypsy garden.
Where a teeny tiny 49 cent pot of variegated ivy I planted has exploded over the years.
Trickling out of its space and over to the gypsy wagon.
It's one of those things that only happens when you don't try.
If I had wanted it to do that, it wouldn't have.
Crazy little ivy.
I turn out my shirt onto the old wooden table.
I even found a piece of teal glass.
I guess in the winter of the high desert, there is still color after-all?
It's like anything in life isn't it?
No matter how empty or desolate something seems...
If you really open your eyes and look...
You may see more things than you could have ever imagined.
I love hunting about when the garden is empty and winter sleeping.
So many little things to notice before all the pretty guys turn up.
It's kind of like not judging a book by its cover.
Or judging people by the way they look.
I worked at an angel gallery once, where I also sold my angel paintings.
(I painted angels once upon a time)
You would meet all matter of curious & wonderfully interesting people there.
My parents were terrified.
But I was fascinated.
It was a wonderful experience for a 19 year old.
There was the couple who wore no shoes and white robes, so kind.
There was the scary guy who told us every chance he got that he was just out of jail - he was wild eyed and looked like he could snap at any second. We showed him human kindness, and he always came back for more.
(he prefaced every sentence with, I just got out of jail, so it became funny after a year)
We always offered him food treats right away, because that seemed to please him.
So many other endless lovely people.
There was a cafe' next door where more stories and characters evolved after the gallery closed.
There was the French Canadian Richard Gere looking guy with the black hat.
He was about 15-18 years older than me.
He couldn't speak any English.
So, I practiced my French on him, and somehow we ended up in front of a roaring fire, laughing and listening to Pavarotti and U2 in concert. He had the cassette tape tucked inside his black leather motorcycle jacket.
I was such a hopeless romantic.
However, when he wanted to take me back home with him a few weeks later, to live in a chalet in the woods of Quebec and have lots of babies, I got in my rabbit convertible and bolted away.
And that was that, one of many romances I dare confess.
(so glad I had them, fun memories abound)
I was still in college after-all.
Not ready for any of that.
Was fun while it lasted.
He was so sad.
Sorry French man.
And yet, and yet and yet......
I veer so well don't I?
We were talking about angels and nature collecting...
And I ended up with heart shaped pupils and Pavarotti.
But it was winter.
And it was cold.
So, that's what the stories have in common I suppose?
Oh gooodness me.
Should I really post this fiasco of a tale, haha!?
I suppose it would only be apropos to leave you with "the" song below...
And beg you to tell me one of your tales.
Something from the past.
Or the present.
I know you have tales.
A good and juicy tale.
Come on, won'tcha?
Don't let me stand here telling you my secrets alone ;-)
♥ ♥ ♥
ps: As I typed I remembered...
I still have the cassette he gave me, with Pavarotti and U2, that night...
All those years ago.
Oh my, haha!