Playing In The Water

This past summer, I took a Sketchbook Journaling class, held at one of the local libraries. The class was a four week introduction to sketchbook journaling and was taught by Leslie Fehling. Go immediately to her website, Everyday Artist, and check out her great work. I was continually amazed by the endless stream of ideas that seemed to come so easily to her and by her pure love of painting. I'm not sure what I thought the class was when I signed up but the main thought I had was that it could a fun chance to learn some journaling techniques to share with patients. I have been working on a journaling booklet to have available for the patients I see in the hospital- nothing fancy at all, mind you, but thought this class would be a way of picking up some ideas.

Turns out the main focus was on watercoloring, and while that surprised me it was a very pleasant surprise though I must admit to being a bit intimidated at first. I've done a lot of crafting, drawing, painting, sewing, goofing-around-creatively in my life (just playin' around, havin' a goodtime) but other than a six week module in high school art, I've never really done any watercoloring. It seemed so much more difficult than even oils, which scare the pants off of me.

 

Guess what? It was way super fun! There were about six or seven other ladies and a young seventh grader boy (he was great) in the class. We packed our supplies to the library every Saturday and started each class with show and tell of our "homework assignments" for the week. So today I'm going to share some of my waterplaying with you, not because any of them are great but because it was just so dang fun!

First, after playing with the brushes and all that, we did the standard color palette activity. Let my apologize here for the quality of the photos in this post. My scanner is about 15 years old and while it generally serves my purposes, it is still old techology. It was really high-end when I bought it but now even the cheapy ones have more bells and whistles, and obviously resolution. I would love a new one but just can't justify it because there isn't actually anything "wrong" with mine.

        

My eyes respond so much better to a brighter palette so I did another one with my personal color favorites and a little jazz to make it different.

Another exercise was to do a couple of pages of color wash in our sketch books, then go back later and add to it. I think we were supposed to write a favorite saying, poem, verse, etc because we were supposed to be thinking about doing lettering but I didn't do that. Intro class rebel, that's me.

We also did some landscape kinds of things. Here's my garage. I can see now that I needed to do something different with the composition like place the garage a bit lower and a taddy-bit to the left. Oh well, it was my first landscape.

One of our prompts was to paint something from the past. I fell in love with the Cambodian countryside and always thought it would be nice to try to paint it. Watercolor seems the perfect medium for a Cambodian countryside.

No, really, Cambodia is much more beautiful than I am able to capture.

 

(Sorry, guess it was a bit askew on the scanner. Operator error.)



I love macro photography. Some of the gladiolus in the August birth month flower post are macros of my glads. Thought I would get all fancy and try some macro painting. The stamen and pistle placement are a "fail". This one is "over painted", meaning too much pigment for the look I was wanting but oh well, it was my first macro painting.

Zinnias, though the shape of the cup of water is totally wrong. Oh well, it was my first zinnias in a cup of water.

Another prompt was to illustrate a recipe. This one came out just so-so but I can promise you that Trifecta Cobbler is a fabulous dessert.

There it is, some of my playing around. In no way do I want to seem like I'm passing myself off as a watercolorist. I have just enough artistic talent to know how much I don't have but still, if you have constructive comments or suggestions, it won't offend me at all if you share with us.

 

Watercolor butterfly? Of course I'm going to try some in the future but for now let me show you my favorite of Amy Kirkpatrick's butterflies, a Blue Rajah.

Ms. Kirkpatrick did a series of 100 butterflies in 100 days and they are striking, each and every one of them. I am seriously considering a purchase from her site. Click here to check them out, or go to her Home page to start your exploration of her beautiful work. And don't forget to visit Leslie's page to see her wonderful watercolors. She can be commissioned to paint a portrait of your home. Cool.

OK then-- thanks for flittering along with me today. I love it when you visit.

Have a great one!

Screech Owls- Fond Memories

Photo by nebirdsplus via Flickr



I've been hearing them again.

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Eastern Screech Owls. My little night-time friends aren't very big- just 6 to 10 inches tall. They are red (rufus) or gray in coloring but either way they're just about impossible to see in the wild, even when perched at the opening of the tree cavity where they live.



Photo by nebirdsplus via Flickr



I've seen them a couple of times, flying at dusk, out for the evening's hunt. These little guys are wide-spread east of the Rockies and  live year-round in my part of the world and while I do hear them at other times of the year, I hear them the most in late summer. The windows are open and I stay up later this time of year. So I hear them, their soft whinny trill or steady tremolo, calling to their families.

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology has great information about the Screech Owl and some excellent recordings.

Photo by Jennifer via Flickr



So why do I get sentimental about these tiny little owls? Well, when my Zippy was a newborn, I used to snuggle with her in the un-named hours of night. Big 'Un and I had decided before The Zipster was even born that she was not going to sleep in bed with us, and she never did, not one night. But her room had the extra full-sized bed. We would put her to bed in her crib and I would get up to nurse her when she roused during the night. Then she and I would snuggle in the spare bed until dawn.



Photo via Wikipedia Commons



That's when I first heard them, those gentle shrill calls that are the owl's defense call, or the steady tremolo of the mommy talking to her babies. I was still on maternity leave and half delirius with fatigue and uncertainty at finding myself responsible for this mysterious little person. I would curl up there with my little Zippy and listen to her breathing into the quiet darkness, crickets chirping, horses stomping their feet in the field, a distant dog barking. Those were special quiet moments with my girl and I usually didn't go back to sleep. I never knew what time it was, just that it was "our" night time. And then I would hear them start to call. Sometimes they were close, maybe just out in the field, once in the peach tree right outside the window. Sometimes they were barely audible, way down in the woods below our house, but they were there with us every night. We had never heard them around before that late summer and in my mind I think that she brought them, though that would be ridiculous to believe as true. But they've been here ever since. When I hear them calling I am transported back to those quiet calm nights that seemed, even then, like special moments from God- a time of wordless bonding and rest with this little girl who was such a puzzle to me at times. Listening to those owls in the dark was a special thing we did together though she of course has no memory of it. 



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My Zippy has grown to be her own kind of girl. She is a quirky, funny, creative, and amazing teenager now.




And I love her with all my heart.

A Flower For August- Gladiolus

I'm sorry, what did you say? August is over? Oh good gracious! The winding down of summer, the starting up of school, hot days and cool swimming pool, dog mayhem, house chores, appointments, new job, Chemistry class.....  they have all conspired to steal away my time. I have fallen victim to that old misbelief of "When things settle down...." We all know things never do settle down and now it's September, so I'll just leave the dishes on the counter for awhile and wander in the world of the birthday flower for August, the ruffly gladiolus. Better late than never ...



Photo by theboybg via flickr

Photo by Russ Morris via Flickr

Photo by Mahmood Al-Yousif via Flickr

The name for August's grand flower, Gladiolus, is the diminutive form of the Latin word "gladius", meaning little sword, a reference to the flower's tall sword-like leaves. The gladiolus is a perennial member of the iris family (Iridaceae) and is in fact sometimes called a Sword lily. The same word is the root for the word gladiator, a soldier who “lived or died by the sword.”  Gladiolus is thought to be the 'lilies of the field' that Jesus referred to in the Sermon on the Mount as they grew wild and abundantly in the Holy Land and along the Mediterranean coast of Africa.


Spread through out Mediterranean Europe, Asia, Tropical Africa and South Africa, most species were discovered in the Cape Floristic Region on the tip of South Africa. Click the link for more information about this incredible region. Of the 260 species of gladiolus, 250 are native to sub-Saharan Africa, mostly South Africa.

Critical Ecosystem Partnership Fund

 

Gladiolus were recognized over 2000 years ago in Asia Minor, where they grew wild in the fields and were called corn-flag or corn iris, a name that refers to the fact that they are unwelcome pests. Wild, natural gladiolus range in size from 1 to 8 inches. The luscious ruffly blooms we know today are the result of hundreds of years of hybridization and breeding programs. It was not until the 1800's that they were used as cut flowers. Prior to that, the gladiolus had a variety of myths and uses. Roman warriors believed that if you hung the corms around your neck like an amulet, the magical properties of gladiolus would bring you luck by helping you to win a duel and you would be protected from death.

A Greek legend tells of two brothers who fell in love with the same young woman. Neither would concede to the other. Their brotherly love gave way to intense hatred until it reached a point where they vowed to fight each other to the death. Both were fatally wounded in the battle. In the final moments, they plunged their swords into the ground. According to the legend, from that very spot grew the first two gladiolus plants, with leaves like little swords and blood red flowers marked in their hearts with white splashes from the girl's tears.



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The Mayfield Florist tells the following tale:

There once was a prince named Iolus. He was a kind and just ruler of his kingdom and was beloved by all. Unfortunately he could not find true love in his kingdom. He heard of a beautiful girl named Glad who was being held captive in the neighboring kingdom by an evil wizard who was forcing her to marry him. Iolus went in search of the beautiful maiden. He came upon the castle of the evil wizard and asked him to teach his magic. The wizard accepted. When the wizard was away Iolus found the maiden and they fell in love at first sight. Holding hands they ran away from the castle. Glad and Iolus were far away when the wizard caught up with them They were turned into a long slender flower with beautiful, delicate, buds. Later people called the flower Gladiolus in honor of the strong love of two hearts who will never be apart.

 



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Gladiolus have a long history of medicinal use, particularly in Africa where it was first grown. Mashed roots were used to draw out splinters and thorns and the dried pods were ground to a powder and added to goat's milk as a treatment for colic. The plant was used in southern Africa to treat a variety of ailments, including diarrhoea and colds. Many African herbalists consider the Gladiolus to be a magical medicinal plant as it is capable of treating dysentery, constipation and diarrhea simultaneously. Some use the plant for treatment of lumbago, painful menstruation, impotency, and headaches, while other herbalists use it to facilitate the birth of the placenta. Gladiolus dalenii is one of the plants used by local communities in the Kenyan Lake Victoria Basin to treat various infections such as meningitis, malaria, diarrhea, and ulcers. A 2009 study showed that extract of this gladiolus has anti-fungal properties, especially for certain lung infections that are common among immunosuppressed patients, such as HIV patients.

Gladiolus are fairly easy to grow: plant the corm in the spring and wait for your luscious blooms. Knowing a bit about them, however, will help you give them proper TLC. First of all, glads do not grow from bulbs, they grow from corms. Oh boy, here we go...  I'm going to let Healthy Home Gardening explain the difference:


Bulbs (which are referred to as "true bulbs") grow in layers, much like an onion. At the very center of the bulb is a miniature version of the flower itself. Helping the bulb to stay together is something called a basil plate, which is that round and flat hairy thing (those are the beginnings of roots) on the bottom of the bulb. Bulbs reproduce by creating offsets. These little bulbs are attached to the larger bulb.




Image via University of Illinois Extension Service

Corms look a lot like bulbs on the outside but they are quite different. They have the same type of protective covering and a basal plate like the bulb does, but do not grow in layers. Instead the corm is the actual base for the flower stem and has a solid texture. As the flower grows, the corm actually shrivels as the nutrients are used up. Essentially the corm dies, but it does produce new corms right next to or above the dead corm, which is why the flowers come back year after year. Depending on the type of flower, it may take a couple years to reach blooming size.




Image via University of Illinois Extension Services

So a corm is a swollen stem base that is solid stem tissue rather than layers (the modified leaves).


Photos via HGTV

 

So, let's get that corm into the ground. Gladiolus are not very fussy though they do prefer a well-drained site with light soil. If your spot is soggy you may want to consider a raised bed as my experience has been that soggy corms will rot and when they do, they're gross and slimy. Though you can plant in an area with some shade, your glads will bloom better, bigger, and longer in a full sun location and the corm will be able to store more nutrients for next year's blooms. Glads are generally hardy in Zones 6-10. My mom is still amazed that I don't dig up my glads for the winter here in my Zone 6 garden but she hails from Wisconsin (good Norwegian that she is) and Zones 5 and north are just too cold to winter over. Regardless, a nice layer of mulch is good to add for the winter. Plant your corms 4 to 8 inches deep, pointy end up, and about 5 inches apart. You can plant them maybe two weeks before your last frost date and stagger so you will have a longer show in your garden. Bloom time is generally July and August. If you are not in a cold hardy area, dig them up in September. Farmer's Almanac says to "cut the stalks to within an inch of the corms, then leave them in a warm, airy location for 1 to 2 weeks. Remove and throw away the oldest bottom corms and store the new corms in plastic, mesh bags in a well–ventilated room. The temperature of the room should be between 35º and 45ºF. Replant these corms in the spring."

 

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I remove the dead flowers from my stalks to encourage the blooms further down the stalk to open up. Once all of the flowers on a given stalk have bloomed I cut the stalk back, but not the leaves, which I keep in place to encourage growth and strength of the corms. If you site them well, water when needed, fertile, talk to them and tell them how beautiful they are, your gladiolus may grow up to 6 feet talk. Be prepared with a staking plan.

 

 





My Zippy gal when she was a toddler, sitting under
an umbrella happily ripping up my glads.





 A word of caution- some parts of gladiolus are poisonous if eaten (including by dogs, cats, or horses) and some people experience skin irritations or an allergic reaction after handling glads. Most of the bad-juju chemicals are in the corms. I've seen them rated as a 1 on a scale to 1 to 10, with 10 being deadly, and I suppose if you eat enough of anything it can make you ill. The effects are generally gastro-intestinal in nature. I personally have never had skin reactions to handling the corms, plants, or juicy stuff and neither did my Zippy from the day I took the photo above. But still, it's best to be aware that some folks get skin irritations.

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But if you send someone gladiolus, just what is it that you're trying to say? Glads symbolize strength, sincerity, moral integrity, generosity, and remembrance. Gladioli also represent infatuation, with a bouquet conveying to a recipient that they pierce the giver’s heart with passion.

 

 

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Do I have any butterfly gladiolus with which I can finish up today? Oh, you betcha.... sort of.





Dwarf Butterfly Gladiolus, source

 

Gladiolus papilio ("Butterfly gladiolus") Source

And today I even have a song for you- Scott Joplin's Gladiolus Rag.



 

Hope you enjoyed today's stroll through the birthday garden. My most sincere apologies for being late and a belated Happy Birthday to all of my August butterflies.

The Butterfly Circus

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Found this short film this morning.  To quote the movie's website,

At the height of the Great Depression, the showman (Eduardo Verastegui) of a renowned circus leads his troupe through the devastated American landscape, lifting the spirits of audiences along the way. During their travels they discover Will (Nick Vujicic), a man without limbs at a carnival sideshow, but after an intriguing encounter with the showman he becomes driven to hope against everything he has ever believed.

 

Filmed in just 12 days with a cast and crew of 150 people, The Butterfly Circus quickly began winning awards at a whole slew of film festivals, including the first Clint Eastwood film award. Will is played by Nick Vujicic, an Australian pastor and international motivational speaker who was born with tetra-amelia syndrome, a rare genetic disorder in which the individual is born without arms or legs. I've heard Mr Vujicic speak before and he is one of those gung-ho people whose energy is infectious. He is the founder of the non-profit organization Life Without Limbs.

Source

The film is short- just a smidgen over 20 minutes- but powerful and affirming. I encourage you to shut the door, turn off the radio/tv/ipod/whatever, take a deep breath and give yourself time to watch this beautiful, calm short film. The message applies to each and every one of us in our own way and I very much want to share that affirmation with you, my beautiful butterfly readers.

The butterfly to close today's post is a very special butterfly but you need to do something for me in order to see it. Go take a quiet look in the mirror. Look at yourself for a full minute. Neither think nor say anything negative about yourself. Then take another deep breath and dive into today's tank of water.

Thank you for visiting today-- have a great one!

Butterfly Orchids

Psychopsis papilio, Source



 

Psychopsis papilio, Source



Psychopsis sanderae, Source

 


Psychopsis versteegiana, Source





Psychopsis krameriana, Source




No words needed.

Larkspur for July

Delphinium Consolida Rocket- Rocket Larkspur
Image via Aggie-Horticulture, Texas A&M University
Gig 'em Aggies



Consolida regalis, Forking Larkspur
Image via Wikipedia Commons



OK gang, hold on to your hat. July's birth month flower is the Larkspur. The flower itself is a complicated beauty, as complex and enchanting as the orchid. To add to the fun, larkspur are delphinium. Well, no they're not but they could be. But they aren't. Oh yes they are if they're annuals not perennials. No no, you've got it all wrong.

You can see what we're up against this month- a luscious purple, blue, pink, and white cloud of cottage garden confusion. So, I've researched the larkspur a bit more than usual, consulted with my personal horticulturalist (thanks Mom), and stared at photo after photo of these summer beauties. I will do my best to parse out the technicalities of larkspur versus delphinium as I understand it but let's not get too fixated on those technicalities. The larkspur is such a lovely flower that it would be so much better to simply relax and enjoy. All of horticultural sticklers-for-detail butterflies will need to bear with me as I simply flitter around and enjoy the larkspur.



Consolida ajacis. Source



The larkspur, of the genus Consolida, is an annual version of the Delphinium and is a member of the buttercup family Ranunculaceae, native to western Europe through the Mediterranean region east to central Asia and naturalized in North America. Delphinium, also called larkspur (because that makes things so much more fun for we mere mortals), are also in the Ranunculaceae family but their genus is Delphinium, not Consolida. Right? Let's look at the scientific classification charts for the two to see if that helps (larkspur on the left, delphinium on the right):

Molecular data shows that Consolida is embedded in Delphinium. Again, just to make it all more fun. Consolida flowers are more open (eh hem- usually) than Delphinium and have a more branching spike as opposed to the more dense columns of delphinium. Usually. You know, with hybrids growing rampant, things can get pretty interesting- sort of like the "purebreed" Black Lab that mysteriously has six puppies of six different colors.  July's gal-  the smaller, wilder cousin to Delphinium-  is a freely seeding plant so once she gets going in your garden you'll generally have a nice yearly crop. There are no genetic barriers to prevent Consolida and Delphinium from crossing so it's kind of a free for all out in your garden if that hussy Consolida is present. Delphiniums, on the other hand, are a perennial. The name Delphinium, by the way, comes from the Greek "delphis" for dolphin because the buds look like fat little dolphins. Are you getting a headache? Let's move on from the murky genetic waters to the pretty bits about larkspur.



Image via Flores Alpes



The plant's name comes from the shape of the spur, which resembles the hind toe of a lark. The petals of the flower actually grow together to form the spur.




Photo by Continis via Flickr



Other names include Lark’s Claw, Knight’s Spur and Lark’s Heel (by Shakespeare). The larkspur is a tall flower, reaching 3 - 6 feet in height with colors including purple, blue, red, yellow, and white. They need full sun and should have some protection from high winds because the hollow flower stalks, though strong, are often so covered with flowers that they can break in the breeze. Each of its flower is made up of single or double row of brightly colored sepals with tiny fringe-like petals at the center of each flower, often covering the pistils and stamens. There are also two sacs filled with nectar inside the spur which attracts hummingbirds and bees. All parts of the plant contain the alkaloid delphinine and are very poisonous, causing vomiting when eaten, and death in larger amounts. Cows, especially, have been known to die after eating only small amounts of the attractive plant, and many people who pasture cows wait until the heat of summer to let them out onto fields where larkspur blooms, as the majority of the plants will have died back at that point. Domestic sheep, however, are apparently not affected by the toxins in larkspur and are therefore used to help eradicate the plant on cattle range. The plant’s toxicity may vary depending on field conditions and seasonal changes; as the plant matures, generally it becomes less toxic. The alkaloids in the plant can cause neuromuscular paralysis; clinical effects include constipation, increased salivation, colic, stiffness, muscle tremors, weakness, convulsions and recumbency (which is a fancy way of saying sitting around, maybe listless and lacking energy). Cardiac failure may occur, as can death from respiratory paralysis. Young children in particular are especially vulnerable to larkspur's nasty properties. Pretty wicked for such a festive looking gal.

Wedding bouquet featuring larkspur. Image via Rustic Wedding Chic

Larkspur is very easy to grow and it often self seeds in the garden, coming back year after year. Plant larkspur from seed directly in the garden in early spring. Larkspur doesn't like to be transplanted and prefers rich, well-drained soil and ample water. When hot weather strikes and larkspur starts to brown and fade, pull out these fading plants but be sure to leave a few to brown ones to reseed. Here's the lowdown on growing larkspur:

Light: Sun, Part Sun
Plant Type: Annual Plant
Height: 3-6 feet tall
Plant Width: 6-12 inches wide
Soil: Deep, rich loam soil
Cultivation: Grow to their full potential in climates with cool and moist summers. They are annuals and also highly susceptible to frost, therefore sow the seed after the frost.
Blooms: Late spring through late summer though they can be grown for winter blooms in the deep south.
Landscape Uses: Containers, Beds & Borders, attract butterflies, bees, and bumble bees
Special Features: Flowers, Cut Flowers, Dried Flowers, Drought Tolerant, Deer Resistant, Easy to Grow

Image via Flowerinfo.org

Sounds perfect for a wild cottage garden, doesn't it? But what is the myth and mystique associated with larkspur? These lush, dolphin-shaped flowers symbolize an open heart and ardent attachment. White generally signifies a happy-go-lucky nature, pink represents fickleness, while purple is often indicative of sweet disposition and first love. Larkspur symbolized a desire for laughter and a pure heart in the Victorian language of flowers. In mythology of Greek, the flowers of larkspur are said to have sprang from the blood of Ajax, a figure in Greek mythology. A red flower supposedly emerged from his blood after he killed himself. I once heard that you can supposedly find the letters "Al" in the petals of larkspur, which is the Greek cry of mourning, but I have never been able to work it out. A Native American story credits the larkspur to a celestial figure who tore open the evening sky, scooped up and twisted a portion of that sky and created a spike. When she plunged it down to earth so she could climb down, small blue flecks of sky adhered to it. Eventually the sun dried out the stalk and scattered small pieces along the planet, thus creating the delicate larkspur flower. As one of the flower symbols denoting the Virgin Mary's sorrows, larkspur represents Mary's tears.

Black Hollyhock - Blue Larkspur, by Georgia O'Keefe
Image via Wiki Paintings

In spite of its toxic properties, larkspur has had various uses in the past for folk remedies and magic. Witches used the flower for various spells and non-witches used it to protect themselves and their animals against witches and sorcerers. In England dried and fresh larkspur was used in protection spells, to cure ailments and as integral ingredients in marking the "longest" day of the year, the summer solstice.  In Transylvania, dried larkspur was placed in stables to keep sorcerers from casting their spells on the animals. Used by Native Americans and European settlers to make blue dye, it’s believed that the most ancient use of delphinium flowers was for driving away scorpions and venomous snakes as well as more ephemeral threats, such as ghosts. Larkspur flowers were widely used for medicinal purposes in ancient times, especially for treating wounds and killing parasites and is commonly known as an insecticide.



1809 engraved botanical plate by Philip Miller.
Image via (and print original print available)
Brian DiMambro Antique Maps & Prints



If you're in the mood for a little bit of cross-stitching, you can go to Ellen Mauer-Stroh's website and download this free cross-stitch chart of July's flowery gal.

If you have a July birthday cake to make, perhaps you could commemorate the lovely larkspur of the buttercup family in buttercream.



Image via Cake Central



Or surprised a lucky July gal with a lovely larkspur necklace...



Image via bstudio on etsy



... or two...



Image via Silver and Pewter Gifts



... or three...



Image via Design and Be Mary on etsy



Let's finish up today's post with nod to the lovely blue larkspur with a lovely blue butterfly, the charming Eastern Tailed Blue butterfly.

See ya again and thanks for visiting.