Smith Family Weblog

Remember the shriveled shrub on my front porch?

It has really recovered nicely!

We’ve watered it a bit more, but other than that, not much has changed. It even flourished through a few days of 100 temperatures. It’s only been in the 80s the last few days, which helps, too, I’m sure.

I’m glad I didn’t rip them out and attempt to return them. They are so pretty–especially up close.

I know we have about three months of summer yet, but I’m really hoping temperatures will continue to stay low. We have had an absolutely gorgeous spring and summer. Everything is so green–the grass is still alive, which hasn’t been the case this time the last two years.

A fledgling Carolina Wren perched on the deck, with her mom nearby.

We’ve had a pair of Carolina Wrens since we moved in here a couple of years ago. It’s nice to see they’ve added to their family!

Remember that previous post where I boasted about our two new “really gorgeous” lantana shrubs? Yeah, about that…substitute “gorgeous” for “dying.”

I’m thinking that our west entry way is just a little to steamy.

Any ideas?

It’s been a rough couple of days–nothing is working out. I made another cherry pie yesterday, and despite using the same recipe all four times, this one was soupy and just awful. (I’m guessing it was under baked–I took it out after I found it boiling over into the bottom oven, creating a fair amount of smoke and a dreadful smell. I think I might have to start over with a new oven at this point.)

Also, I tried to wash a spot of chocolate off my face this morning, only to realize that I haven’t had chocolate in days and the spot wasn’t going anywhere. Could it be an age spot at 30? So much for that daily SPF. How do I get rid of it? What if it reproduces? Maybe a few more and I’ll finally look tan.

My friend Lori commented on my perfect life a couple of days ago, and I thought it was only fair to show that things (and people!) are far from flawless around here. Call it truth in advertising.

Bryan was really, really thrilled to find the first red tomato.

Really.

It’s hard to tell where the garden ends and the trees begin. The tomatoes are easily six feet tall!

There’s a good chance this is actually a green heirloom tomato. Either that, or it’s just not ripe. I have no idea. I really should have labeled the plants.

I do know that these are yellow pear tomatoes–my favorite.

I planted the dill in an underground pot to prevent spreading, and I really should have done the same with the mint. It’s already taking over.

Sweet million–tiny, delicious cherry tomatoes.

After producing exactly one squash, the zucchini plant succumbed to pests and had to be removed.

On the bright side, the cucumbers have a bit more space.

Despite the cool, wet spring, the pansies in the pots on the front porch were at least two months past their prime. This was the first weekend we were at home in about six weeks, so I finally had time to replace them with something more seasonable.

But, if you’ve ever checked out garden stores this time of year (at least in Kansas), the selection is limited to a handful of leggy petunias and burnt geraniums.

I did find a couple of beautiful salvia, but I couldn’t really locate anything to plant with them. Fortunately, though, I stumbled across two really gorgeous lantana shrubs.

A benefit of buying plants late in the season is that they look like they’ve been flourishing in place for weeks on end. The size of these single plants was perfect for our large pots.

And, I found a sunny spot (and a sunny pot) for the salvia.

Now, if these transplants can just handle our first few 100 degree days, I’ll be in business.

It’s a beautiful evening, and not just because both girls were asleep by 8:30.

Now it’s been a very long time, but if memory serves, this game is called “golf.”

We had the pleasure of playing a round last weekend while my mom watched the girls. We couldn’t have asked for better weather, and the course was pretty nice, too.

Truth be told, I’m not that great a golfer. And, really, the game itself isn’t really why I play. It’s the beer. And the cart. And the other half of my twosome, who, despite his irritation at a score above par on any one hole, is still a lot of fun. Also, I carry my great-grandmother’s golf bag from the 60s. It’s heavy, but vintage–and therefore totally worth it.

I usually try to stay in single digits on each hole, and if I can just double Bryan’s score, I feel like I’m doing okay for someone only gets to play once or twice a year when not pregnant.

See that water hazard in the distance of the shot below? This is the hole I finally managed to drive about 130 yards. Into the water. Three times.

On the upside, I found this lovely ball while diving for my own.

Not a bad day.