Happy Birthday Emily and Adieu Patricia

Happier Days for sure. I miss those. I miss seeing that goofy smile. These days it’s dark and gloomy around here. She’ll be chatting and laughing on the phone one minute and the next I’ve gone and spoiled it by asking a question or just being in the same room. I get the dead eye stare and silence and the quick getaway. It’s heartbreaking it is and Scottie tells me I should love her for who and what she is and I say I love her in spite of that. I can hardly stand looking at these early pictures anymore. I know this will all pass but today, this week, it’s a hot searing pain in my throat.

Happy Birthday baby.

Adieu Miss Patricia


This pretty little vignette taken at Miss Patricia’s beautiful little cottage on the farm. She leaves tomorrow for India to continue her study of Ayurvedic healing. I can’t imagine the Inn without her! She always had something witty to say and I so enjoyed ragging on everyone with her. Her twisted little french take on everything. So refreshing. Now there is Lori who I don’t think I’ll take to as well. She goes to church way too much. When she told Patricia that she went to church twice on Sundays and on Wednesday evenings Patricia said “Oh, you must be very bad”. With a straight face. Patricia said things like that all the time, deadpan. I’d watch people’s faces for the light to go on but mostly it didn’t. I won’t miss Super Cheap, her little terrorist Chihuahua who always tried to attack my Lucy and scared her to death. It’s a sad thing to watch a 50 lb Bulldog shiver with fear of a Chihuahua but even I was a little afraid of Super Cheap myself.
His name isn’t really Super Cheap it’s really Too Petit. Super Cheap was what some old lady thought Patricia was saying as she was trying to coax the little devil out from under the woman’s bed. He’d run into the woman’s house when Patricia was taking him for a walk. She always walked him without a leash because she wanted him to be free. I always imagined him squashed under the wheels of some car. Free at last.
Anyway, I will miss you Patricia! Bon Voyage.

thunder and lightning August 30, 2007

Yolande in full bloom. It almost looks like one of those paper flowers it’s so unreal. I hope it survives the beating we gave it this weekend. As it stands now it’s only a bunch of sticks in the ground and in some pots. But that is what the Mutabilis was just a few weeks, months ago and look at it now.

It’s a monster. Like the Yolande, it is not a grafted rose. I purchased it years ago at the San Jose Rose Garden when Charles Duncan and I were rose crazy enough to take our 2 very young daughters on a 4 hour road trip up to the Rose Festival held there every year. The Buff Beauty is also one from that trip that Charles decided he didn’t want. I’m ever grateful.

We had a real honest lightning and thunder storm the night before last. It woke us in the middle of the night and in the morning I could see the garden smiling. I don’t believe it’s ever rained here in August and I vaguely recall one other thunder and lightning storm in the 13 years I’ve been here.
Can I have some more please?

The Vermicomposter

I’m guessing not many people are excited by the thought of worms. Well…..maybe some freaks are. Like me. I am so proud of my little wormy bin. Years ago we had an in ground 4′ x 4′ vermicomposter which we forgot about after the first few months. It was way out in the back and I always forgot to dump my veggie clippings in it and then we started piling wood on it and in front of it and eventually the neighbors ivy vined covered it over. I always felt a little guilty about that so when I found that bag of worms last week I was thrilled and relieved. I had this empty bin in the attic from this years organizing frenzy and it just so happens to be the perfect shade of purple. Right now they’re happily rubbing themselves all over my peach skins, lettuce leaves and coffee grounds. Happy little worms.

Happy Birthday Emily and Adieu Patricia

Happier Days for sure. I miss those. I miss seeing that goofy smile. These days it’s dark and gloomy around here. She’ll be chatting and laughing on the phone one minute and the next I’ve gone and spoiled it by asking a question or just being in the same room. I get the dead eye stare and silence and the quick getaway. It’s heartbreaking it is and Scottie tells me I should love her for who and what she is and I say I love her in spite of that. I can hardly stand looking at these early pictures anymore. I know this will all pass but today, this week, it’s a hot searing pain in my throat.

Happy Birthday baby.

Adieu Miss Patricia


This pretty little vignette taken at Miss Patricia’s beautiful little cottage on the farm. She leaves tomorrow for India to continue her study of Ayurvedic healing. I can’t imagine the Inn without her! She always had something witty to say and I so enjoyed ragging on everyone with her. Her twisted little french take on everything. So refreshing. Now there is Lori who I don’t think I’ll take to as well. She goes to church way too much. When she told Patricia that she went to church twice on Sundays and on Wednesday evenings Patricia said “Oh, you must be very bad”. With a straight face. Patricia said things like that all the time, deadpan. I’d watch people’s faces for the light to go on but mostly it didn’t. I won’t miss Super Cheap, her little terrorist Chihuahua who always tried to attack my Lucy and scared her to death. It’s a sad thing to watch a 50 lb Bulldog shiver with fear of a Chihuahua but even I was a little afraid of Super Cheap myself.
His name isn’t really Super Cheap it’s really Too Petit. Super Cheap was what some old lady thought Patricia was saying as she was trying to coax the little devil out from under the woman’s bed. He’d run into the woman’s house when Patricia was taking him for a walk. She always walked him without a leash because she wanted him to be free. I always imagined him squashed under the wheels of some car. Free at last.
Anyway, I will miss you Patricia! Bon Voyage.

Happy Birthday Emily and Adieu Patricia

Happier Days for sure. I miss those. I miss seeing that goofy smile. These days it’s dark and gloomy around here. She’ll be chatting and laughing on the phone one minute and the next I’ve gone and spoiled it by asking a question or just being in the same room. I get the dead eye stare and silence and the quick getaway. It’s heartbreaking it is and Scottie tells me I should love her for who and what she is and I say I love her in spite of that. I can hardly stand looking at these early pictures anymore. I know this will all pass but today, this week, it’s a hot searing pain in my throat.

Happy Birthday baby.

Adieu Miss Patricia


This pretty little vignette taken at Miss Patricia’s beautiful little cottage on the farm. She leaves tomorrow for India to continue her study of Ayurvedic healing. I can’t imagine the Inn without her! She always had something witty to say and I so enjoyed ragging on everyone with her. Her twisted little french take on everything. So refreshing. Now there is Lori who I don’t think I’ll take to as well. She goes to church way too much. When she told Patricia that she went to church twice on Sundays and on Wednesday evenings Patricia said “Oh, you must be very bad”. With a straight face. Patricia said things like that all the time, deadpan. I’d watch people’s faces for the light to go on but mostly it didn’t. I won’t miss Super Cheap, her little terrorist Chihuahua who always tried to attack my Lucy and scared her to death. It’s a sad thing to watch a 50 lb Bulldog shiver with fear of a Chihuahua but even I was a little afraid of Super Cheap myself.
His name isn’t really Super Cheap it’s really Too Petit. Super Cheap was what some old lady thought Patricia was saying as she was trying to coax the little devil out from under the woman’s bed. He’d run into the woman’s house when Patricia was taking him for a walk. She always walked him without a leash because she wanted him to be free. I always imagined him squashed under the wheels of some car. Free at last.
Anyway, I will miss you Patricia! Bon Voyage.

They’re drilling outside. Right outside and it’s starting to feel like it’s in my brainteeth. The man upstairs name is Mr Muse. He talks slowly and steadily and I grow weary and sleepy. I’d like to dip him in chocolate and throw him to the lesbians.

Se me arruga el corazon taking my daughter to school this morning. Dressed in black baggy clothes with her eyebrows penciled in like some 1940’s movie star. Other girls standing around in pairs looking so mean and clean. I want to dip them in something. Not chocolate and not the lesbians for them either.

Ok if the drilling doesn’t stop soon…..

They’re drilling outside. Right outside and it’s starting to feel like it’s in my brainteeth. The man upstairs name is Mr Muse. He talks slowly and steadily and I grow weary and sleepy. I’d like to dip him in chocolate and throw him to the lesbians.

Se me arruga el corazon taking my daughter to school this morning. Dressed in black baggy clothes with her eyebrows penciled in like some 1940’s movie star. Other girls standing around in pairs looking so mean and clean. I want to dip them in something. Not chocolate and not the lesbians for them either.

Ok if the drilling doesn’t stop soon…..

not musty, not fusty, not cucumber or grubby

Saturday we worked in the garden a good bit and then went to Paso Robles for the Olive Festival. After reading about all the bogus olive oil coming from Italy I was looking forward to maybe finding something as tasty as we did at the San Francisco Port Market. Olive oil farms, ranches? are popping up around the county and I was excited to find something local to fall in love with but after about 4 or 5 tastings we gave up. They were all, without exception, nasty tasting things. Very grassy with a bitter aftertaste. Maybe this is how real unadulterated olive oil should taste? Maybe we’re just so used to crap that we can’t like the real stuff. According to the E. U. regulations for extra virgin olive oil there are 16 official taste flaws which include “musty, “fusty”, “cucumber” and “grubby”. I’m not sure I know what grubby tastes like. Or “fusty” either. I know the crowd made us both anxious being the sort of recluses we are.

We bought a candle, had some Thai food and came home. Our little nest. More work in the garden. I’ve started a garden journal to keep a record. We move things around every year and start new things and find old things. This weekend while digging we found a shell, a rusty old wrench, flattened out spoon and a half full bag of manure writhing with worms.

Yesterday our daughter invited us to a concert! It was the first time in years she’s asked us to do anything with her and granted it was because she needed a ride, but still. When your teenage daughter who usually can’t stand the sight of you asks you to go somewhere, you get dressed. It was the last thing I wanted to do since I was already dressed in my grubbies, shovel in hand but after recovering from the shock of the request I dressed quickly and got in the truck. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon. The music was fabulous, the guitar player had a Johnny Cash, Elvis, Buddy Holly vibe thing going on and he dedicated a song about a transvestite to his grandfather whose birthday it was. Grandad was sitting in the audience wearing a band t-shirt and I’m pretty sure Grandma was a girl, but you can’t tell for sure. It was a mixed bag of nuts of all ages so fun to watch. Scottie and I really should get out more.

And when I am not digging in the dirt, I stitch.

not musty, not fusty, not cucumber or grubby

Saturday we worked in the garden a good bit and then went to Paso Robles for the Olive Festival. After reading about all the bogus olive oil coming from Italy I was looking forward to maybe finding something as tasty as we did at the San Francisco Port Market. Olive oil farms, ranches? are popping up around the county and I was excited to find something local to fall in love with but after about 4 or 5 tastings we gave up. They were all, without exception, nasty tasting things. Very grassy with a bitter aftertaste. Maybe this is how real unadulterated olive oil should taste? Maybe we’re just so used to crap that we can’t like the real stuff. According to the E. U. regulations for extra virgin olive oil there are 16 official taste flaws which include “musty, “fusty”, “cucumber” and “grubby”. I’m not sure I know what grubby tastes like. Or “fusty” either. I know the crowd made us both anxious being the sort of recluses we are.

We bought a candle, had some Thai food and came home. Our little nest. More work in the garden. I’ve started a garden journal to keep a record. We move things around every year and start new things and find old things. This weekend while digging we found a shell, a rusty old wrench, flattened out spoon and a half full bag of manure writhing with worms.

Yesterday our daughter invited us to a concert! It was the first time in years she’s asked us to do anything with her and granted it was because she needed a ride, but still. When your teenage daughter who usually can’t stand the sight of you asks you to go somewhere, you get dressed. It was the last thing I wanted to do since I was already dressed in my grubbies, shovel in hand but after recovering from the shock of the request I dressed quickly and got in the truck. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon. The music was fabulous, the guitar player had a Johnny Cash, Elvis, Buddy Holly vibe thing going on and he dedicated a song about a transvestite to his grandfather whose birthday it was. Grandad was sitting in the audience wearing a band t-shirt and I’m pretty sure Grandma was a girl, but you can’t tell for sure. It was a mixed bag of nuts of all ages so fun to watch. Scottie and I really should get out more.

And when I am not digging in the dirt, I stitch.

not musty, not fusty, not cucumber or grubby

Saturday we worked in the garden a good bit and then went to Paso Robles for the Olive Festival. After reading about all the bogus olive oil coming from Italy I was looking forward to maybe finding something as tasty as we did at the San Francisco Port Market. Olive oil farms, ranches? are popping up around the county and I was excited to find something local to fall in love with but after about 4 or 5 tastings we gave up. They were all, without exception, nasty tasting things. Very grassy with a bitter aftertaste. Maybe this is how real unadulterated olive oil should taste? Maybe we’re just so used to crap that we can’t like the real stuff. According to the E. U. regulations for extra virgin olive oil there are 16 official taste flaws which include “musty, “fusty”, “cucumber” and “grubby”. I’m not sure I know what grubby tastes like. Or “fusty” either. I know the crowd made us both anxious being the sort of recluses we are.

We bought a candle, had some Thai food and came home. Our little nest. More work in the garden. I’ve started a garden journal to keep a record. We move things around every year and start new things and find old things. This weekend while digging we found a shell, a rusty old wrench, flattened out spoon and a half full bag of manure writhing with worms.

Yesterday our daughter invited us to a concert! It was the first time in years she’s asked us to do anything with her and granted it was because she needed a ride, but still. When your teenage daughter who usually can’t stand the sight of you asks you to go somewhere, you get dressed. It was the last thing I wanted to do since I was already dressed in my grubbies, shovel in hand but after recovering from the shock of the request I dressed quickly and got in the truck. It turned out to be a lovely afternoon. The music was fabulous, the guitar player had a Johnny Cash, Elvis, Buddy Holly vibe thing going on and he dedicated a song about a transvestite to his grandfather whose birthday it was. Grandad was sitting in the audience wearing a band t-shirt and I’m pretty sure Grandma was a girl, but you can’t tell for sure. It was a mixed bag of nuts of all ages so fun to watch. Scottie and I really should get out more.

And when I am not digging in the dirt, I stitch.

Gingko Garden

What I was calling the entryway garden may now have to have another name, side garden? little garden? gingko garden?

I had only to mention that I thought it might need to be blocked off somehow to keep Cassius and Raj out and before I knew what was happening Scottie had a beautiful shorter version of the central garden’s fence up. I feel sorry for every man, woman, child and bull dog out there who doesn’t have a Scottie.

He moved the tree over a few inches when I mentioned I thought it wasn’t centered correctly without blinking an eye but with plenty of sweat and brawn then dug out the roses (fairy, yolande and iceberg) from the back and dug holes in that cement like dirt where we planted them. Voila! a garden is born. The gingko tree is now ringed with succulents ( dragons blood, hens and chicks and crassula something or other) and around the outside edges there is salvia, 2 different kinds of lavender, lambs ear, erigeron, iceberg, yolande and the old pink rose that is probably the only surviving plant from when we first moved into the house. I’ve always loved that little rose. The flowers are deeply pink, fragrant and compact. I must search for a name.

So now the plum tree is lonely. Its fruit mostly picked off by the birds and now no roses beneath its skinny canopy. We moved the fairy rose and the penstemon to the driveway where all orphans go. I think I’ll scavenge some nasturtium seeds from the back and plant them in the driveway as well. Don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner! They love that exposure and reseed with abandon. Perfect for that driveway.

I bit the bullet and planted the bachelor buttons I had in pots into the ground in the central garden. I have beer bottles to plant as well to keep those rascals away. I also found a six pack of echinacea at the Ace in Morro Bay which I have never grown and put those in there as well. Fingers crossed.

To finish it all off, I planted an erigeron in each corner of that central garden hoping to see a mound of those little daisies spilling over the rocks in a few months.

I also trimmed up the lavender in there and brought a bunch into the bedroom so that when we walked into our room last night the whole room was redolent. I can’t believe I’ve been mostly throwing those away all these years!

now I’m itching for a potting bench and I think I’ll fashion one (mention to Scottie) out of scraps and put it in the back corner where the pond will eventually go.

While searching for potting soil I found an old bag of manure, half full and started to put it in the new garden when we realized it was crawling with worms! I’m going to make a vermicomposter with one of our empty rubbermaid bins.

The monk will be so proud.

August 19, 2007

I thought I’d start a garden journal but I know I’ll never get around to printing all the pictures of the garden as it changes so this is the next best thing to do.

I’ll start here at the entryway as it looks now (or last week) with these two red chairs. Scottie is out there giving that hedge a haircut as I type. That is actually the west side of the entry. What is soon to be the entryway garden is currently a sea of blue tarp with a potted gingko tree in the middle. Around the gingko tree up against the studio and bath house I plan on planting lavender, guara, a brilliant pink salvia and a buff beauty rose. I have everything except the buff beauty. I’ll also plant some succulents and something else (?) under the gingko and cover the rest in dg. I can hardly wait to see this part of the garden come to fruition.

Elsewhere in the garden……

This is the central garden. The maple in the center is doing beautifully as is the lavender, guara and grass beneath it. These were perfect choices here and I’m shooting for echoing this look in the entryway. The bed with the soccer ball was ruthlessly invaded by gophers. My gorgeous zucchini plant wilted and died in one day so I opted for pots until I figured out what to do or those little bastards got tired and left. The sweet peas on that post were gorgeous until the roots split the pot. I’ve since planted some portulaca but now the pot doesn’t fit on the post. I’m trying the local gopher remedy of planting bottles, glass or plastic, in the ground next to their tunnels. The vibration of the wind passing through the bottles is supposed to drive them away. We shall see. Patricia said it saved her garden this year. Anything that simple is worth a try.

Meanwhile, Scottie took out the New Dawn rose which never did much blooming and planted it in the pot with the cecile bruner outside the studio door. My 3 little eggplants are doing fine, I’ve got about 4 or 5 eggplants! Evelyn is in bloom again and looks stunning against those orange calendula that pop up everywhere. The oregano in that bed is blooming as well. Tiny little pale green blossoms. I’ll have to wait a couple of days to get a good picture of this as it’s too sunny and gorgeous right now. Tsk tsk.

view from the bench….

The back.


This seems to be the best place for impatiens and johnny-jump-ups along with some of the plants Scottie brought back from his stay in San Diego. They like it much better than inside the house where they were screaming at me every day about how unhappy they were. Happy now!

This is my hidy spot. The bamboo in the corner seems happy and so does the fuschia in the pot with the Hearst Castle guy in the corner there. The fig dropped all it’s leaves in one fell swoop a couple of weeks ago. I have no idea what happened but I suspect Casssius‘ pee since everything back there has suffered damage from his lethal urine. We’re waiting it out but I don’t hold out much hope. Beneath it we planted the succulents that used to be in the wheel barrow. So far Cassius doesn’t deem that an appropriate pee spot. The fairy rose in front of that turned totally brown so I cut it back to the ground and in one week it’s already greened up a bit. The Yolande is full of buds and blooming nicely again as well. The Iceberg doesn’t look so good and the penstemon and salvia are recovering. The plum tree is already creating shade on all of these so I need to start thinking about what I’ll replace them with. The plums from that tree are sweet and marvelous and the birds dig em bad. I’ll clean up and go back an hour later and there’ll be at least a dozen half pecked plums on the ground. Those bastards also ate every single peach on my peach tree so I know next year I’m going to have to tent both those trees.

The lair with plum tree in the foreground.

Here is the back deck with the yummiest hammock in the background. The hammock hasn’t gotten as much use this summer as it has had in the past though I still find it to be one of those magic power spots in the garden. The lair has become its fiercest competitor.

Apple girl lives in the window box by my hidy spot. She’s planted with lobelia and vinca. It’s more of a shade lover but it was all they had at the home depot the day I went to get something for the studio boxes and of course I couldn’t wait another moment to see those planted.

These guys found a home by the hidy spot as well. I’m hoping the shade and less watering will encourage some more growth.

This quail was one of the first things we bought for our garden. It has seen all the transformations and seems none the worse.

Because we can’t seem to have too many bad dogs.

Yesterday I planted 40 daffodil bulbs and just as many tulips. This is also a local gopher cure and seemed too good to not do. No gophers and cheery little flowers in the spring?
I planted them mostly in the front and finished planting the rest in the central garden where the zucchini’s life was cut so tragically short.
I’ll keep buying them as we go along to ensure a good show next spring. This is the first time I feel on top of things in the garden. Planning and planting ahead for continuous bloom. Having it look so dreamy is inspiring.

Friday’s elevensies

ranchero beans
scrambled eggs with dill havarti cheese
on a corn tortilla
garnished with
cilantro
green onion
avocado
garden fresh tomatoes and
roasted poblano salsa

time for a siesta on the hammock with the newest New Yorker.

Friday’s elevensies

ranchero beans
scrambled eggs with dill havarti cheese
on a corn tortilla
garnished with
cilantro
green onion
avocado
garden fresh tomatoes and
roasted poblano salsa

time for a siesta on the hammock with the newest New Yorker.

Friday’s elevensies

ranchero beans
scrambled eggs with dill havarti cheese
on a corn tortilla
garnished with
cilantro
green onion
avocado
garden fresh tomatoes and
roasted poblano salsa

time for a siesta on the hammock with the newest New Yorker.

Life in the web

Back to work after a week off. It wasn’t enough I could use another one and another one after that. But like that extra bowl of ice cream I had last night, it turns out the first one really was enough.

Things at the Inn are just the same except I don’t take an immediate dislike to most every one who walks in the door. People seem nicer.

The War of the Marias rages on. One of them is pregnant now and the other is already anticipating and resenting all the extra work she’ll have to do. There are two new Inn Keepers to further lighten the owners load. Soon they’ll be sending checks from Costa Rica and checking in by email once a month.

Had lunch with a friend after work yesterday to seal the back to my regular life deal. Same restaurant, same table, same conversation, different order. I had a calamari salad with a honey dressing. Yum.