jeudi 31 juillet 2008

I'm so-oh-oh tired, I've hardly slept a wink

le perpétuel sommeil

de Charles de Maigny, tombeau
Pierre Bontemps, 1557
Musée du Louvre


As soon as David finishes in the shower, that is where we are heading, from as soon as we can possibly get there, until they close at 6 pm. Then drinks with a friend nearby.

Sam is off to Spain. I dropped him at the train station in Mantes la Jolie for the 8:19 am, which he blessdly agreed to take to get a RER in Paris out to Roissy. Driving to the airport was getting to be a weekly, and then daily (for the end of this week) occurrence, but I decided everyone is taking the mass transit system. He'll be back August 19, and I hope he has a won-der-ful time and comes back much better at speaking and conjugating in Spanish!

He isn't staying with the same couple, who have a grown daughter living in Zaragoza, because senora's mother is sick and hospitalized there, but she told them to tell Sam that he should come to the house whenever he likes. He left with the Christmas present he never sent to her to give to her now.

Oh, Sam.

So, he'll be getting to know another couple, either with children grown and out of the house or none yet, because none are listed on the information sheet. I am just so pleased that he is going back to get to know the people of this small, agricultural village outside Zaragoza called Gelsa better and show them his appreciation for their reception last summer. I would love it if he were to offer his services in exchange for a room and board next summer, but I musn't get ahead of Sam's readiness for full-blown humanity. One step at a time!

David leaves tomorrow.

Sadness.

It is impossibly, unbelievably, oppressively hot. Float around in the pool hot. Or mint juleps hot. Or, I suppose, marble corridors of the Louvre hot.

Definitely AC on in the BMW hot. We're going to do the oh so Texas thing of driving the air conditioned BMW directly to the parking lot under the Louvre, to emerge in the underground entry hall and proceed to those marble salles d'exposition. Perhaps it will be (oh, here I go, saying it again, twice in one entry) blessedly raining when it is time to brave the streets to get to chez notre ami.

I just checked the météo; 29° C, or 84° F. It feels hotter. The dogs are plastered to the terra cotta tile floor. There is a little wind, and it says thunder showers at cocktail hour. Perhaps I'll tuck a little black umbrella in my bag.

David is having an allergy attack. Sounds bad, even from here in the living room, with Chloé keeping me snug and warm in the arm chair.

Thank you, Chloé.
....

lundi 28 juillet 2008

When annual is perennial (or vice versa)

Santa Barbara Daisies and Campanules

Dead-heading won't save a plant from one year to the next. What it will only do is allow it to flower again in the same season, if flower again it is intended to do.

Some plants, like a good many varieties of rose, are meant only to flower once a year, for a shorter or longer period of time. For plants that are able to flower and flower again freely all season, all they need is the little encouragement of having their faded flowers cut off to produce again, and you needn't be too nice about it. Just follow the stem down to a likely leaf -- if you are concerned for the plant's shape -- and snip with the scissors, or in the case of a mass of plants in a planting border, just cut them across the whole.

I tend to go flower by flower -- even then -- because I want to preserve the ones that are in bloom and about to open.

Once the season ends, the plant will die if it is an annual, regardless of all the dead-heading it has received.

On the other hand, I have been surprised and had annuals return. Sometimes they are biannuals. Other times, the plant has had sufficient protection from the harshness of the winter weather -- or a temperate enough winter -- to come back from its roots. This is the case of the campanules in the photo above.

Anyone who has seen last summer's June photos might remember them -- planted with blue-violet ones and white lobelia -- in the urns at the step into the top terrace.

They died. I expected as much because I had purchased them as annuals, and forgotten the name.

The urns, empty of all but planting soil, made a napping place for Wisp until I saw sprouts coming up, whose unfolding leaves were unmistakably those of the campanules I had planted last spring.

I dug up the small plants, retaining the root mass intact in its soil, and transplanted them to a medium-sized clay pot, where I watched them grow, wondering what color flowers they would produce. A couple of weeks ago, I was rewarded with the first buds, which opened pure white. None of the blue flowers had come back.

Finally taking the time this morning to research what variety they are, the best I can say -- from the shape and size of the flowers, the way the plants grows, and the form of its leaves -- is that they are Campanula isophylla, or Falling Stars, Italian Bellflowers, or Star of Bethlehem. This is sometimes listed as an annual, and at other times as a perennial, due probably to the fact that it drops its leaves in cooler climates and is not very hardy, or tolerant of the cold. I suppose that it is easier for nurseries to sell them as annuals, so that their customers don't return upset when their plants don't the next spring.

In short, this is why it is difficult to know (sometimes) whether your plant will return and whether you and what you do or don't do to it is responsible for its failure.

I am not an expert, although I might be one if permitted to live a terribly long life, so I learn from experience (i.e. experimenting), research and inquiry.

If you count on your plants returning year after year, make sure to buy them in the perennials section of your nursery and then ask and look up their best care for soil, fertilizer and compost, pruning, etc.

If you buy a plant in the annuals section, well, you might get lucky (or unlucky, as the case may be) and actually have a perennial or biannual (requiring two years to complete its flowering cycle, which you might not like, since you will only have flowers the second year) on your hands.

I suggest looking up any plant about which you are uncertain to see if there is a hope that it is really a sensitive perennial because if it is, and you have the space, you can try bringing it indoors into a suitably light area and maintaining it over the colder months for a new reception in the garden.

Many plants that are intended to flower for several weeks during the year benefit from being cut down by about a third of their size to allow the plant to restore its energy and produce new growth and flowers. Failing to do so will exhaust the plant and disappoint you.

So, this year, having not seen any Star of Bethlehem at Florosny, I decided to use deep magenta Impatience, especially since these two urns don't receive a lot of sun at any time of the day. I can't say that I like the impatience so well, but the white Star of Bethlehem makes a nice companion to the Erigeron karvinskianus, or Santa Barbara Daisies.

I would try to plant some in with the Erigeron around the fish basin, where I sat the pot next to two unplanted Erigeron and got to see the happy effect of the two plants together, except that this variety is better in pots, particularly urns or hanging pots. I could try the C. carpatica 'Bressingham White' instead, which has a tuft pattern of growth similar to the Erigeron, but makes pure white stars, like the C. isophylla.

Someone remind me that I said that, please.
....

PS: For the Anthemis
(camomile)

Although it is supposedly fairly hardy, mine -- seen here in June last year -- died over the winter, Mom. Having bought large balls last year in high season at high price, I purchased smaller ones this year to hedge my investment. They are almost quite as large now, and I will take the extra precaution of bringing the plants, which I have left in their nursery pots placed in the terra cotta planters, indoors.

It could be that had I planted them in a border, they would have survived the winter from the benefit of more soil around the roots, and the spreading of manure, but in their pots, they probably got too cold and humid for the roots to survive.
....

dimanche 27 juillet 2008

And this is life-saving

Radical pruning

Et oui.

You have to do it to save them. I knew when I bought them the summer before last (or was it the last? Yes, last summer.) that I would be taking them out soon enough. I knew I really should wait to put them in, but what I didn't know was when an idea of doing the work on the house would be able to become actually doing work on the house.

Like, you plant them, so of course the work will get going.

You wait, and the work always seems to be out there somewhere in the future.

I planted. I even replanted, better, in November (really tempting fate); we found a contractor.

Sam and Georges, one of the workers, dug them up. Sam put as much dirt from the hole in the pots around them as he could, and then the rose bushes sat, and waited for me. I couldn't bring myself to prune them, knowing very well I had to.

Day after day, they turned browner and crispier, all save one that continued to have some green leaves, and yesterday, when I passed it going into the garage, I saw a lovely last bloom opening, and a cluster of tight green buds.

It will finish on the table.

Yesterday, I finally went to Florosny for some root stimulator and more planting soil and rose fertilizer. Victor said I have to do it. I knew it. I came home and did it.

Audouin says that in their present state, the plants look better than they did before I pruned them to the nub. He's right. There's nothing worse than a bare, long-legged, shriveling rose bush, except four of them.

....

Justin heads home, or
a meeting of terrorists at Roissy give the sign

(fist bump)

When did six weeks ever go faster? Ask Victor and Justin, and they won't be able to come up with another answer than these last six.

They flew.

And Justin is right now, on his way back home to Lansdale.

Au revoir, et à bientôt.
....

samedi 26 juillet 2008

David, this is dead-heading

The Anthemis with no dead flower heads
or, "dead-headed"


That's because I cut them all off with my scissors.

You do it for two reasons. The first is that the plant looks a lot better (maybe you noticed the same plants at the top of the stairs, full of dead flower heads when you were here), and the second is that the plant needs to produce flowers to reproduce, but it can't when it is covered with dead flower heads. So, you cut them off, and the plant is released to produce a new profusion.

Which, you will soon be spending a morning cutting off.

When the plant is in a planting bed, it's an easy affair. You just cut. Sometimes you cut in three tiers: lowest at the front, higher towards the middle and you cut the least at the rear to get a stepped effect for maximum massing effect, but in the case of a shaped plant in a pot, you have to cut uniformly to maintain its shape. It is a zen activity requiring patience only.

The same applies to roses and any plant with repeat flowering.
....

Renovations

Yesterday morning, I treated myself to a grace matinée, meaning that I got up, dead-headed some plants and went back to bed with Mansfield Park with the full intention to read and the total inability to keep my eyes open. There were a lot of late nights in this last week. In July, period.

Getting up to take a shower and head to the bank to release the first payments to the contractor, I hear a voices. Sam. But Sam doesn't talk to himself.

Joachim.

"Sam, is there someone there?" I knew the answer. "What's he doing?"

"Sitting at the dining table, reading." I got in the shower, and when I got out I heard,

"Jacqueline?"

"Oui?"

"Ca va?"

"Oui."

"Vous avez une drôle de voix."

"C'est ma je-viens-de-sortir-de-la-douche voix." What did he think? I am not used to having people walk into my house when I am about to take a shower and ask what I am doing.

His turn to think, "Oh."

I took my time getting dressed before we walked through the recently used and still slightly damp bathroom to discuss the extent of its future renovations, which we have done twice before. Each time in more detail. His ideas are pretty banal, but luckily I have my own.

Renovations, like politics, makes odd bedfellows, in a manner of speaking.
....

jeudi 24 juillet 2008

Coming full circle

Today


And, exactly one month ago today... What a difference a month makes, 31 little back-breaking, miserable-making days.

That will do, pig.

I don't know if I can save the two hydrangeas I transplanted, but I will try.

The Acer palmatum tree went in by the largest of the two I moved down here. It might not be the best place for it, but it's a place for it.

I know it doesn't look that great right now, but it will. I hope.
It needs time to fill in, and a nice covering of ivy on the wall.

....

Renovations

No work on the house today.

But, they want money for the materials to get off to a great start on September 1, or whatever the first working day of September will turn out to be.

Better than money for arms.

....

I didn't kill the Potentilla

Look, it even made new flowers.

It was a brown, nearly crispy thing in its pot. I got to it just in the nick of time.
....



mercredi 23 juillet 2008

Renovations, another day

7

So, we have had a certain number of explanations that are nearly as numerous as the number of days since they began work, but not necessarily fewer than the number of days they have worked.

We don't really know what we know, but what we think we know is that Monsieur Aubrun is not really, actually Joachim's boss, and that when I have called him to get dates or to get things straight or to get someone here period, we might have been operating under misinformation that led to a sort of misunderstanding that was leading to a problem.

We don't know why we didn't know that he isn't -- by inadvertence or something we would really rather prefer not to know -- but if it is true, and if we get clarity and performance from Joachim, then we really simply don't care.

We just want the job to get done, and be awfully good. I am (I know I say this every time, but it's true) just too pooped to write, so I'll just put in the photo and say that it's been a little rocky, our confidence has been a little shaken, we have each spoken with Joachim. We seem to have arrived at a sort of clarity, a few more precisions on dates, and hope that when things get going in September, hopefully in earnest, that they will sail on more smoothly then they began.

....

The hydrangeas and maples

I finished getting them in at 10:42 PM, in the deepening dark, the night before David arrived.

I have to put down more soil around them, keep watering copiously (it has been dry and getting hotter, in the low 80's), and try pruning the poor scraggly baby from the entry court. I wasn't too surprised to see that it had practically no root system when I dug it out.

I will be sad if I lose it. I don't like losing plants any more than baby birds.

I ended up having no real use for one of the maples, the slender, red-barked, yellowy green-leaved Acer Palmatum. Have to think about that.
....

Berlin

David and Stephanie are off to Berlin on the night train, in time to join the throngs to hear Barack Obama there tomorrow evening at Victory Gate.

He promised to take all the policy points and gripes about FISA everyone on Mybarackobama.com would like Barack to hear them out on, and get his book signed. He figures he'll just tell everyone he is an American, and they will let him on through the crowd and Barack will take the rest of the night to hear him, and then each and every other supporter.

But, of course we are being ironic.
....

mercredi 16 juillet 2008

Yeah, day 2

It's actually a little depressing.


Or I am just tired.

Yeah. Just tired.

It's brick.

And, it's silica.

And, one day it will be covered again.
....