Just Some Photos

The walkway to the sheds, one of which still needs trim. That's my romaine lettuce in the bigger pot.

All work and no play makes for little news. So instead, here are some photos from the garden. There's still so far to go on the yard, but slowly but surely I can see a little progress. Every time I drag home another plant from work, Mason just rolls his eyes. But he knows it will help make our little place in the woods that much better! Have I mentioned I love plants?

Six or seven miniature roses were growing out in the front "lawn" (i.e.: dirt patch) when we moved in. I don't really love them, but I can't throw out a decent plant, so I moved them to a sunnier spot, gave them some good soil and now they seem happy. Until the deer eat their heads off.

Made this trellis out of branches. Not sure how much longer it will hold together.

We made this guy out of some scrap metal a couple of years ago when my mom visited. Wonder what we'll create when she's here visiting next week? That shrub is a Dream Catcher (kolkwitzia?). Nice lime color in part shade.

Yeah, the front beds are a serious work in progress, so don't judge me.
But that Sum and Substance hosta in the rear left? Delicious. (Note the rhododendron on the front porch waiting to be planted tomorrow. I've killed two Home Depot versions so far; hoping No. 3, from the Barn Nursery, is lucky for me.)

From front to back, that's Burgundy Glow ajuga, a teeny-weenie painted fern that's struggling (a bargain buy from work in November), then a mass of hardy geranium (macrorhizzum, my favorite),  a Japanese forest grass (the yellow thing, which still has some growing to go), a blue hosta that's got a ton of growing to go yet, and then the little Bloodgood Japanese maple I planted on the day my dad died. In the far right corner you'll see the Shasta viburnum that my co-worker Craig gave me. Trust me, it's going to be beautiful in a few years! The lawn is looking pretty lush right now; let's see how it survives the summer.

It's Visiting Season

Mason was way more thrilled with these visitors than he looks here. Way to snarl, Mas! 

The bright red doors of our Flat Top mountain hovel have flung open to the first guests of 2014! Our first suckers ... I mean, guests ... were Karen Cook, aka The Keeper, aka Mason's ex-wife;  her two close and very sporting friends, Daphne and Paula; and Randy, an old running buddy of Mason's from their rowdy 20s.

This was a historic visit. Karen has opened the door to her Texas home to us many times, and is always the gracious hostess. We were super excited to finally be able to return the hospitality. We made these folks live the Flat Top life: walking Nick twice a day and spending the hours in between doing whatever they wanted -- except for Paula, who kept getting enlisted in the kitchen.

Randy is a garden freak like me, so we had lots of flora to discuss, and he went home with a small collection of goodies, including a dogwood sapling.

And each night was spent by the bonfire, including two good blazes in the new fire ring in the backyard "tiki bar" area, which yes, still has no tiki bar. (We're working on it, people.)

All four of these adventurers made the drive up here from Florida. Smartly, they spent time up here first before spending a few days relaxing on the white sands of Destin, Fla.

Next up to visit? Mom is headed this way in a week or so, and we might also score a drive-by from some Minneapolis friends who are taking a road trip.  We never would have guessed we'd lure so many friends to the wilds of Tennessee. But we're damn happy to see them all!

Derby Day

Love these azaleas. Need to buy many more!

Those who know me well know my family's tradition of celebrating the Kentucky Derby with Mint Juleps and some friendly wagering. Well, tomorrow's the big day. But the race we're running here is all about getting ready for our next round of guests willing to brave Flat Top.

Arriving Sunday are Mason's ex-wife, Karen (he refers to her as "The Keeper"), two of her close friends and Randy, one of Mason's running buddies from his 20s. They'll shack up in our shack, while Mason and I do a little camping in the back yard. Classy, eh?

The azaleas in the yard are just about done blooming, but some of the ones growing down by the creek are still going strong. Tonight I got the ferns hung on the porch, and a few annuals planted here and there for color. We also got a new fire ring dug; this one's in the back yard. Doesn't every house need two firepits?

Columbine, planted from seed.

So we'll be thinking of all you old friends on Saturday. And watch those Mint Juleps; they can sneak up on you! Cheers!

I may regret planting these anemones. ... I hope I can control them.

Where the Wild Things Are

No, they're not ours. Who's mane is more gray?

Despite my silence, Flat Top Mountain has been bustling with activity the past couple of weeks. Spring announced itself on April 9th, when we were wakened in the wee hours by the blood-curdling screams of a bobcat in heat. For the record, it's a godawful sound that should bring goosebumps to the hardiest of souls. Nick the Dog, who is the least hardiest of souls, responded with frantic barking and excessive backbone fur fluffage.  The first time I heard it, I thought a woman was being attacked in our woods, which turns out to be not far off from the actuality.

Quick on the heels of the bobcat was the woodland equivalent of the car alarm: Mr. Whipporwill. A whipporwill is a tiny little brown bird of no noteworthy note, until he whistles his annoying little song as soon as the sun sets and picks up speed at dawn before silencing for the day. His song is this repetitive little siren that repeats about 20 times (yes, we count it out), each within nanoseconds, and trust me, it sounds just like a car alarm. Now that spring is here, we sleep with the windows open, and as charming as Mr. Whipporwill sounds, he's annoying as hell.

Then, on Tuesday, four horses showed up in the woods just in front of our cabin. By evening, they had made their way up to the "neighborhood" lake. By Wednesday morning, they disappeared, only to reappear that evening in our back yard, going to town on my plush lawn. I pulled out some carrots from the fridge and made four new best friends. But they were chowing down on so much grass, I was worried I'd be left with nothing, so Mason ran them off.

The next morning, about 7 a.m., they were back, joined by a friend, Horse No. 5. I let them go at the front lawn for a good 30 minutes, then I decided to run them off. But apparently my high wimpy voice was less than intimidating. But it did wake Mason up, who wandered out to the front yard in his birthday suit and belted out this clearly Texan "WHO-YA" holler, and off ran the horses. Then he went back to bed.

The horses tried to return later that day, sneaking in on our back trails in a bid to get some more of my tasty fescue grass, but we ran them off again.  Side note: On our dog walk that day, we took a bucket and a shovel and got some seriously sweet manure for the compost pile.

We think a bear clawed through the trunk of this maple in search of food.

And in the final chapter of wild things: Bears. Something went to town tearing into this 70-foot-tall maple tree near the back of our property, and a neighbor told us it likely was a bear.  YIKES!

Bears aren't common here, but apparently they can wake up in the spring to find few berries to feed their hunger. Desperate, they'll hunt bugs and apparently this maple had something tasty in it. Whatever dug into the tree, it shredded 3 to 4 inches deep into trunk.  Looks like a tree bound for firewood come Winter 2015-16.

Check out that firewood! See those three stacks? We have about eight more just like that ready for next winter.

As for winter 2014-15, we're just about done stocking up next season's firewood. As for the winter we just survived -- the worst Chattanooga has seen in 30 years -- we had exactly just enough firewood to ward off the cold until the nights turned warm. How's that for good luck? OH, I mean, good planning...

Guilty But Busy

Hello hellebores!

OK, so I broke my resolution. It happens. I'm still a good person at heart.

My excuse? I'm back at work at the Barn Nursery, and despite our less-than-spring-like weather, I have been picking up side jobs that have been burning a lot of time and calories. Meanwhile, my yard awaits my attention. But at least my hellebores are smiling on me, especially the one that my co-worker extraordinaire Craig gave me last summer.

This 75-footer came down without a hitch.

Mason's been busy, too, with the endless tasks that come with our crazy mountain life. His highest priority has been restocking all the firewood we've been burning through this Evil Winter From Hell.  So far we've felled seven trees, totaling 600 feet. One more tree to go and we should be good for Winter 2014-15. Check that off the never-ending list.

While I was at work, Mason decided that our 35 broadcast TV channels (10 of which are religious, in multiple languages) weren't enough, so he's in the process of moving our antenna to the top of the roofline. For the record, he knows he's not allowed on the roof while I'm not here, but does he listen?? Not so much.

Other Flat Top news: The little cabin behind us is back up for sale. Any fellow adventurers out there?

And a final note: I'm typing this as I wait on hold on the 1-800 ObamaCare hotline.  The recording warned me that if I'm calling from a cell phone, I should make sure it's fully charged. Anyone want to wager how long I might be on hold?

Lovely, Because It'll Be 68 Next Week

The back yard.

We woke up this morning with close to 8 inches of snow blanketing our little homestead, and it couldn't have been more beautiful. Mostly because we knew it wouldn't be there in just a couple of days, when it hits 60 here, as opposed to Minnesota where it lasts for months. We took an hourlong hike through the white stuff to celebrate!

More snow.

Bring on the sun.

Our boy, who hates cameras.

Our only other news of note is that my winter vacation is finally over. I'm back working at the garden nursery three days a week and already scheming how many plants Mason will let me bring home.  I also already have had a couple of customers from last year contact me about doing more landscape designs for them, so that's kinda cool. The hourlong commute each way, though? Not so cool. And Mason will have to adjust to making his own breakfast now and then -- oh the horrors!

Minnesota vehicles have snow turds; in January, Flat Top has mud turds.

You wouldn't think this of Mason, but for the man who seems so "Whatever, world, bring it," he has a lot of rules.

One of the man's rules is: For every $100 he pays for a car/truck, he must make that car/truck last a month to get his money's worth out of it. So he bought his Dodge Dakota truck for $2,400, meaning he had to drive that truck for two years to get his money's worth. Once the two years were over, he couldn't feel bad if the truck died.

Well Mason bought that Dodge in October 2005, so the poor thing may just be on borrowed time, That's 100 months so far, so he could have spent $10,000 on it!

That said,  Flat Top Mountain has been hard on the old girl -- the TRUCK, not me. Well, OK, me, too. There have been several times in the past two years that we thought, "Well, that's it. The truck has gotta stay on the property; no more trips to town."

Then we'd want the truck for something. And after shakes and rattles coming back up the mountain, Mason would think,"Maybe this should be her last trip." He'd think it, but not say it, because if I knew he was thinking it, I'd never drive in her again ...

But last week, when we were hauling a heavy, secret payload up the mountain in the back of the pickup, Mason may have made a fatal error. He said it out load. "This may be her last trip to town."

Despite my usual pessimism, I don't believe it, which is saying a lot for me. I mean, I hate that truck; why does HIS window go down, but mine doesn't? Do you know how irritating it is not to be able to get fresh air?  OK, the A/C kinda works, which is more than I can say for our Jeep Cherokee (which has to last until April 2015 before we make good on Mason's rules), but the truck's heat doesn't work. No radio, a bunch of other electrical stuff, which all went out when Mason replaced the blower motor, which DOES still work, to his credit. Then there's the exhaust leak, and the new sound that grinds from somewhere in the drive train. ("Once something finally breaks, I'll know what to fix," he keeps saying.)

But I also love that truck, all 240,000 miles of her. Just today, we used her to help fell a 70-foot oak (WITHOUT crashing it down on the house), starting our Winter 2014/15 firewood stockpile.

Good on ya, Dodge Dakota.