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The lavender field, last summer. |
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The herb garden, last spring and not even close to looking like this yet. |
Spring at last!...Spring at last! This was my mantra throughout the past weekend. I found myself dreaming about the colorful days this season will finally bring, of course, all the while remaining in denial concerning the hot and humid weather still to come as well. At least the weather was finally turning warmer, here in Northern Virginia. But, I'm holding my breath since the gardens still seem to be asleep, or at least waking up
grudgingly. How I
long to see the lavenders turn green and almost take flight into a purple haze in the warm sunshine. So much so, that I went out and bought myself some cans of lavender spray paint to spruce a few things up around the old farmlet. If Mother Nature would let the lavenders sleep a little longer, then I would just have to take matters into my own hands.
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Tucker was very trusting to be sitting that close to me. |
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Oh yeah, that is waaaaaay better. |
It started out innocently enough, on Saturday. First, I thought the pink bike that stands in the front yard under a Yoshino Cherry Tree, not quite ready to bloom, really did need a fresh coat of paint and since we call ourselves a lavender farm, why not paint it lavender! While touching it up, I got a little tingle of excitement in the tip of my fingers and my eye glimpsed a folkart iron structure flapping its wings out in the still groggy lavender field. Perhaps a
little lavender paint might spur those plants to sit up and take notice.
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Turning into lavender. |
And then, of course, since this bird looked so good, I thought I should stroll down the hill and touch up the crane (metal bird) that greets visitors as they enter Blooming Hill. What would be the harm in turning a vertigree and rust colored jumble of steel into a lovely shade of lavender feathered bliss?
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Happiness, indeed! |
Suddenly, in my hands, I found a 'bluebird of happiness' who was looking a little sad. Once he got a new coat of lavender paint it was literally transformed from happiness to
deliriously happy! I was in "the zone". Spray paint can in hand, I was
truly on my way to putting color in my yard
my own way.
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Light purple flight of fancy. |
I could feel the spirit of my mother pulsing through me, spurring me on as only she could have done, as I made my way through metal bird stakes and rusty garden angels. When I was growing up, she loved to paint things in the garden to give them a dose of wit and whimsy, making them unique garden pieces. Well, okay, so maybe she went a
little too far at times--especially with bright yellow paint and her tie-dyed wooden spool tables that dotted the green lawn. But, she never shied away from a painting adventure when it came to sprucing up a drab piece of something to make it a piece that people would certainly notice,
for good or for bad.
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Even the pump could not escape my lavender dreams. |
Anyway, I digress as usual, but I really did feel my mother's presence, standing somewhere over my shoulder, happy in her lavender 1970's
"Here Comes the Judge" Flip Wilson sweatshirt, approving my every lavender move. After all, lavender was her favorite color while lilacs were her favorite flower. I'll give her that one since we lived in the suburbs of Chicago and growing lavender can be a bit of a challenge there.
I ran out of lavender spray paint but
fortunately, I found a can of vibrant dark purple, hidden deep in the bowls of the garage behind the paint cabinet. I wondered who put it there,
so out of sight, that I really had to hunt for it as I grew a little more desperate since, I wasn't over my painting binge, quite yet.
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Well on their way to ooohhh, la laaaaa! |
Then, rearmed and reinforced with a new paint supply, I looked expectantly around to see what else could use a fresh coat of
purple that hinted at what will eventually be a field of naturally hued lavender and purple plants. A couple of weathered metal butterflies were
begging to be infused with new life via a purple face-lift! How could I deny them?! Somewhere around the third old watering can sitting innocently enough around the yard, it hit me--and there wasn't a mirror anywhere to be found to even think of chanting
"Mirror, mirror, on the wall. I am my mother, afterall!" I had become my mother.
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Don't worry. I have been forbidden to even think about spray painting Peter's beloved Gazebo lavender, purple or any other color that may spring to mind. But, I'm not promising anything when it comes to the armillary (thing with arrow) in the foreground! |
Oh well--it was inevitable. I just couldn't help myself. Perhaps it is
genetic. Maybe the urge to spray paint something really does carry through the female line of my family, although my sister would probably argue that point. However, I suspect Peter is very thankful that we have a son! Anyway, I still have some vibrant dark purple paint left and when I run out of that, there is always the hardware store in town stocked with a plethora of spray paint to help continue my lavender/purple
habit foray right up until bloom time.
Oh, my... you are dangerous with a can of spray paint! Deliriously happy, indeed!
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