In Search of the Almighty (Sand) Dollar

All my life, I have been searching to find an intact sand dollar while combing the beach during our trips to ‘the shore’.  Never have I found one. When I was a teenager, my friend brought home a bucket of them once from Hilton Head.  As she was bleaching them in the sink, I felt nothing but jealousy as a 16-year-old. The jealousy stemmed from the sand dollar haul rather than the fact she and her family could afford to stay at a Hilton Head resort for a week. She offered me one of her 1-2” Clorox smelling white gems, oversized coins really, but worth more to me than the real thing. Now, decades later, I can’t remember if I took one at her kitchen sink or not. They weren't my find. Just not the same…

Here I am in my 50s, and still the sand dollar eludes me! I have found big pieces of them at times, excitedly yanking them from the sand only to find there is no other half buried. I would still take them. How could the sea just break them apart and discard these beauties so violently? I would stick them in a terrarium’s sand to make it look like they were whole.

We took a long needed trip the beach last week. During our stay, we made our obligatory gift shop trip, looking in quaint beachy shops, and of course visiting the Wings or Waves, or Whatever chain. My husband and I looking at T-shirts and sunglasses while my son and his girlfriend wandered about as well. We met back up in the store here and there. Thought about getting a hermit crab to take back to stare at daily wondering if it was still alive or not…We left without the hermit crab and moved on.

Late that afternoon, my son, his girlfriend and I were standing on the beach. Leaving the next morning, of course I am going to look down, once more, for the hunt stays in my blood. This time I looked down and I could not believe what I saw at my feet! There it was – undamaged – pristine in fact! Yes, you guessed it! I found the sand dollar I have been looking for all my life. Right there, with my son and his girlfriend seemingly forming an arc around it. It didn't even need a course of bleach soaking. It was a perfectly intact bright white SAND DOLLAR! I picked it up, looked at the smiling faces, the two true gems on the beach, and I asked, “Did you two…?” Don’t really remember what I said after that. It was like when an actor says they can’t remember what they said during their Oscar acceptance speech – so caught up in the emotion of it all. I do recall they both looked at me quizzically uttering, “Huh..? What..? No…” as if they had no idea what I was talking about. I dropped the questioning.

Now I can truthfully say I found a sand dollar on the beach. But more importantly, what I really found that late afternoon on the beach means more to me than finding what I had been searching for off and on all my life. I found standing before me two wonderfully adorable 20-somethings who cared that I would finally find my elusive sand dollar.

Planting a Seed

Happy New Year! I am a little late in saying so to the world (or to the 2-5 people that are reading this). It's already about time for the first round of people to start feeling bad they have messed up their New Year’s Resolutions. I start getting withdrawal symptoms about this time every year. Not from some particular vice I am trying to relinquish, but of all things, planting seeds! Getting to see that joyful miracle of ground breaking, followed by the tiny speck of green emerging all furled up fighting to bust out and grow and LIVE. So, metaphorically speaking, please indulge me and let me plant a seed in that fertile brain of yours! If you have dropped a resolution, drop the guilt along with it and decide if that resolution's really that important to YOU. That may be why so many resolves don't make it into February. In my experience, you have to deeply desire this change for it to be successful. Not what you should do, or what society dictates. It is your life, so decide what it is you really want to do.  Phew, thanks, I feel better already. That might hold me for another week or two when I can start planting lettuce and broccoli seeds.

What brought me to this topic was this: Much of my life has been dedicated to the thought, “What would people think?” Now I am finally cracking out of some hard packed clay dirt of my own and growing like a little seed. Hey, it is never too late. So it’s not too late to amend a resolution, and you don’t have to start big.

I am a big Christmas decorator. Not to Griswold levels, mind you, but I do run a tasteful swag across our half-wrap front porch railing with white lights and red bows, the mini trees on each side of the front door, bells on the front door, swags on the windows kind-of-thing. Certainly no inflatables of any kind.

I love making wreaths, and being that we are TLC Floral, I do have wreaths I change out seasonally on the outside wall next to the front door. (They don’t fit between the front door and our country style screen door.) So when decorating the front porch, I pulled out The Whopper. The Big One. The Christmas Wreath in all its glory! BUT, when I reached to take down the fall wreath, what did I find? Birds had snuggled in there for the winter! Usually only our summer wreaths get a nest, eggs included, but the whole family departs long before a switch out is required. But these little ones, all feathery and fluffed up, were nestled in the grapevine and silk leaves of fall for the long haul. They moved in and proudly enhanced it with adornments they must have foraged for, including what I believe to be my dryer lint I occasionally toss under our shrubs for them. 

I peeked in even closer. Looks to be three, but their heads were even tucked in except for one.  He must have been the lookout, but he didn't alert them, just stared back at me without moving one iota. I slowly backed off. OK little fellows, you can keep your town home this winter. You are more important to me than displaying my penultimate wreath. You can put on your nightcaps, but could you smile for the camera?

Now what will the neighbors think? Should I put a notice on the flags of the neighborhood mailboxes alerting them to my new-found residents as reason for my behavior? All Red and Green and Christmassy except for this magenta/orange/purple wreath? They will surely wonder, “Has she lost her mind?”  Neighborhood discussion groups may form. “Did she just forget to switch them?” Better Homes and Gardens won’t want to come out for a spread. WWMT? (…Martha Think?) Thank goodness my neighborhood doesn't have a homeowner's association!

I decided my fall wreath is a symbol I am going to try to care a little less about what people think. Starting small and that sense of accomplishment will foster a little seed to develop into a plant! Oh sure, I know it's not a concrete and measurable goal. Who cares? If I have a sense of accomplishment, that's what matters. OK, there was the time I washed our mattress pad and hung it on a line in the garage to dry and in a day, birds had snuggled in the folds to overwinter. Always had to make sure the garage door was left open before nightfall for them to return. But only a handful of people saw it hanging in our side opening garage. I can't count that. (Yes I bought another one, and discarded theirs after they moved out.) Writing that makes me think I do care what you think. Darn. Well, I do state subjectively "...a little less”, so I am covered.

Lastly, this does not come without some fear. Many a person who closed the door a little hard, or spoke a little too loudly while exiting, myself included, have been scared to death by the sudden quick dash departure of a Carolina Wren or two fleeing right past your head. It might happen to you too, so-to-speak. Just need to leave the porch light on a little longer so that you, I mean they, can find their way back in the dark of night…

Watering your Poinsettia

I get a lot of questions this time of year about watering poinsettias. Here’s the scoop (of dirt):

Poinsettias like to stay a little more on the dry side. They don’t like “wet feet”. The pots/containers of most poinsettias you buy this time of year are decoratively wrapped in colored foil. It has been my experience, the type of soil they are potted in can vary significantly. Sometimes the soil has a lot of peat in it, and if left to dry out, turns to what I call “compressed powder”. This makes it difficult for the water to absorb back into the soil, so you might find when you water, it runs right through it like a sieve.

Here’s what to do: If your container cover is waterproof, that is it didn't get holes in it, give it a good drink of water until when you feel the bottom, you can tell water has gone through and is in the wrapping. Leave it for about 30 minutes or so, come back and see if you feel it. More than likely it has soaked that water back up. If you still have water in it, pour the rest out. Don’t forget this step, as if left sitting in water, you probably won’t have your poinsettia by Christmas! You can use a dish or bowl if your wrapping leaks. Protect surfaces that could be damaged by water or moisture.

                                              Lots of varieties to choose from!

As you return it to its place of prominence, note the weight of the plant. It should not feel light anymore. Days later, pick it up. If it feels a lot lighter, you know it is time to water. You can also tap your finger on the top of the soil. If you have moist soil on your finger, leave it alone. Don’t kill it with kindness! If it is dry, do the weight test to confirm it is time to water. 

These don’t have to be disposable plants either! You can actually put these in a sunroom and keep them growing throughout the year with a few techniques to get them to bloom again next year!

                                                         Tip: When purchasing, look for the center yellow/red flowers to still be tight. 

          

                      The more open and the more pollen you see, the older the blooms.  

                   HAPPY GROWING and MERRY CHRISTMAS!                              TLC Floral, Indian Trail, NC

TLC Floral's Dream of a Little Shop

I've discovered in my 50+ years that life, or I should say, living, is all about taking risks. Some of us are bigger risk takers than others. Here at TLC Floral, we are low on the Richter scale of risk taking. I wish I could jump out of an airplane. Such freedom. But I can’t even trust a roller coaster to safely return me to the good old terra firma. I am grounded to the earth like a rock-no, a boulder- which may partially be why I love digging in the dirt. I can explore that independently later.

Because of my conservative nature, I hesitate to “go for broke”, as I have no desire to go broke. I would love to open a shop filled with unique plant and floral designs. Terrariums, not just your grandmother’s old fish bowl anymore. Nature-inspired home décor and more! Spend my days creating original oil and acrylic landscape paintings between customers, and pastel watercolors enhanced by exquisitely matted frames. Display prints of flowers and butterflies taken with my own camera. Note cards made from handmade recycled paper and adorned with pressed flowers grown from my garden. And, of course, Gardener’s Gift Baskets! With bulbs in the fall, seeds in spring, with cute floral gardening gloves, a trowel, a kneeling pad. A beautiful bow to top it off on the hand woven basket handle. Seeds procured from my own plants.  And of course, the latest rage-Fairy Gardens in my handmade hypertufa containers! Conduct monthly workshops on various gardening subjects. I am in heaven when my nails are dirty from designing an herb garden. I’m not hard to please.

Oh my, and Bonsai! I become absolutely immersed in crafting a bonsai tree from a bushy shrub. That tree will (potentially) outlive me, and be passed down from generation to generation until the gnarly trunk is thick, with roots exposed and beautifully aged as any tree out in the landscape. Some people consider the art of Bonsai cruel to the plant. I disagree. Adopting it gives it a chance at longevity that most shrubs will never have. My guess, most shrubs end up as foundation plantings which will be yanked out within 10 years, possibly by attaching a chain to it, the other end to a truck’s trailer hitch, and pulling it out with roots hanging on for dear life.

I have my ”roots” firmly entrenched into the ground like that foundation shrub. Well-grounded has been considered a compliment, but now I believe it to be more of a hindrance to growth. The passion to share my creations of all things horticultural has been pulling at me like I am attached to that trailer hitch, but the driver is scared to hit the gas. Unless I win the lottery (since I don’t waste money on tickets where my chances are slim to none, that is highly unlikely), I will never gamble on trying out my little shoppe.  

Enough of the metaphors (or similes?), here are the facts: Only 47% percent of (retail) small businesses are still operating after four years. Stats like that scare me more than a parachute failure…well, almost.

I applaud those who try. They are brave souls that live their dream.  They score high on the Risk Taking Richter Scale. Win or lose, they made the attempt, no matter how short-lived. They must have a passion that overrides odds and statistics, and push forward. Bravo! You are a braver wo-man than me, Gunga Din.

So, until the “T” of TLC Floral wins the lotto (he does spent a few bucks on it here and there), you can check our Facebook page: www.facebook.com/tlcfloral to find out where our one-of-a-kind designs and the aforementioned gift baskets and bonsai are sold.  We just opened an Etsy “shop” for our silk and dried floral arrangements that are postal friendly-http://www.etsy.com/shop/tlcfloral.

We did a show at The Metrolina Expo Marketplace in Charlotte, NC last weekend. My customers and all the wonderful fellow plant enthusiasts there made it a (albeit small), risk that was well worth taking.                                            

                           

You will find us safely tucked into a booth at Metrolina again, December 5^th-8th, in Building C. You can call it my “Portable Shoppe.”  If you do, I’ll give you 10% off your purchase.

TLC Floral, Indian Trail, NC                                                                                                        tlcfloraldesigns@gmail.com

Hibiscus Flower

Today marks the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death. I know people prefer “passing” which, in my opinion, is just to lessen the harshness and finality of “death”.  She “passed on” contrives images she just went somewhere else. But she died, and death is harsh, painful, and rip-your-guts-out hard. Oh, we try to dress death up in pretty clothes to make us feel better, but it’s just a façade.

Since I am a “plant person” (which I got through my mother’s genes I am sure), I find solace in planting flowers and plants and watching them grow. Seeing a tiny sunflower seed turn into a 12 foot giant over the summer, is nothing short of a miracle of nature. After all, it took 18 years for my son to grow to 6’7”. (Yes, he really is that tall.) Watching perennials return even bigger and better after winter knocks them out gives me hope I can get through life’s “winters” and come out on the other side too.

After my mother died, I wanted to memorialize her in some way. My mother did not have an easy life, nor a healthy one. If I can be half as strong as her, I will have done myself proud. She always said, “I hope I make it to 75.” She was a New Year’s Eve baby, and celebrated her 75^th birthday and the new year with all of us. It was to be her last.

Shortly after she died, I tore out a large strip grass in front of our walkway and feverishly planted 75 pansies. Under ¼” of topsoil it was pure fill dirt, yet they grew beautifully into a curving swath of watercolors that looked like butterflies when the breeze kicked up. I went out every day and picked off the dead blooms as some sort of therapy.  Yes, I talked to her, and I still do. Just not out loud anymore.

To mark the first anniversary, we planted a pear tree. I also began giving away plants as a way to memorialize her-to keep her love of plants and flowers spreading.  I have had lovely experiences in sharing my plants with others. They’ve told me they have planted them in her memory; said prayers when they planted them; call them “Lori’s mom’s plant”. They send/give me updates on how they are doing. Mom would be smiling, or maybe she is…

Because tonight, after my husband went to bed and I was working on some paperwork, I was sitting here alone. I became so sad, missing my mom-turned-best-friend in our grown lives, my eyes started filling with tears. I knew it would come before the night was out. I went on Facebook to distract myself, and immediately recognized a plant with a large red hibiscus flower on it posted by a friend I had given a plant to. Almost shining in the bright sun, her caption read, “The last hibiscus bloom of the summer.” If a flower could, it would have been smiling. How fitting that today would be the last bloom of the summer.

The Flight-or Fight-of the Hummingbird

Hummingbirds-Nature’s tiny wonders. Whizzing around with flights of fancy and stalling out in midair like little helicopters. Whether ruby-throated or not, they are all beautiful mini specimens of nature’s handiwork. Who cannot absolutely adore hummingbirds?  From what I have witnessed, other hummingbirds, that’s who.

We have several feeders around our house. They’re dangling off the eaves, our front porch and back deck, one in our maze garden.  As if all of our tubular shaped flowers aren't enough to attract them, I am dedicated to scrubbing out feeders and boiling water to dissolve sugar about twice a week, or it wouldn't be summer.  I've spoiled them and it seems the hummers don’t like to share-the dominants staking claim on them. Many times as an innocent makes his approach, another intercepts him and circles around him until the little one retreats, at which time the aggressor returns to the same spot in a tree and lays in wait. Like a dog protecting a bone.

I love to watch them at the feeders so close to the house. I can be right at the window and they hover up and take pause as if looking directly at me, hopefully saying thanks. So how can such a tiny and possibly grateful little creature scare me? That sounds ridiculous. But you come over here and start taking one of the feeders down in the midst of a hummer duel on who gets the last drop and one comes zipping out of nowhere right up to your face and see what you do. Without a window as a shield, you will find yourself eye to beak, and I wager your heart may skip a beat too. Tell me you wouldn't cringe or at least flinch thinking they are going to take that toothpick spike of a beak and make a move to stab you right in the eye! With wings beating faster than a good camera’s shutter speed can capture, my reflexes would never win against a dart toward me. On more than one occasion, I just close my eyes tightly until I am brave enough to open one eye hoping it has gone. I pray the eye I open is not the one he’s poised to pierce!

The hummer dance sometimes includes as many as five whirling around. Is that endearing chirpy sound they make actually them swearing at each other in hummer-speak when one has claimed dibs and the others try to stake a claim to it too? It’s fascinating to watch. We float quietly in our pool watching them like an outdoor movie. “Stop and smell the roses” has nothing on stop and watch the hummingbirds.

These little mini bundles of energy seem so tough during this continuous fight and flight. But we see another, weaker side of our hummers. A few times a month one will fly into our open garage, and having a minuscule brain, can’t figure out how to get back out. They bash their heads repeatedly into the high ceiling or the window. I’m sure they can’t understand why they are stuck, feeling like they are in Stephen King’s Dome. We fashioned a butterfly net on a long pole to catch them and lower them out the door.

On occasion, by the time we go out there and see them, they are so exhausted from battling our ceiling they've actually dropped to the floor and collapsed, wings splayed out. The three of us have each had the opportunity to pick up these exhausted and depleted hummers. Holding them, we stick their potential eye piercing dagger beak into some sugar water to replenish them while walking out to the driveway.  I figure I am safe with them in this state, gently holding them until they recoup.

Once they revive and collect themselves, they tighten up their wings and off from our hands they’ll fly. Like our hands are their helipads. They return to their lives of fight in flight.

And they never bother to look back.

Gardeners Beware!

If you think this is going to be a warning about Fire Ants, guess again.

Does the following scenario sound familiar?

It’s a beautiful Saturday morning and you go outside early to cut some flowers before it gets too hot. While out, you see the dahlias need staking. You quickly bring in the flowers and return with stakes and string. The seemingly random flight of a butterfly searching for the perfect zinnia to land upon catches your eye and while turning, notice the basil is becoming unruly. While trimming, the scent of basil releases to fill the air. The aroma makes you decide on tomato pie for dinner. Uh oh, weeds are overtaking your Better Boys. Taking the crabgrass to the compost bin, you see it needs turning and retrieve your pitchfork. When returning it to the shed, or your garage, you notice limbs and twigs rained down upon the lawn along with last night's storm. Some sticks/branches are large enough to impede the lawnmower’s progress. You must collect them in your wheelbarrow to deposit into the “brush pile” for burning later. What then? You pass the wildflower garden where briers are taller than the Holly Hock, and Carolina creeper moved from creeping to leaping. Next thing you know, hours have passed, and you are heavily into the heat of the afternoon sun.

Does this sound like you? Perhaps the names (of the plants) have changed, but the gist is there. No matter how small your plot, you can get lost in your garden. Now for the important question:

When you went outside in the early morning hours for that quick trip to retrieve flowers for the table, did you first apply a high SPF sunscreen and wait 20 minutes for it to sink in before going outside? If not, did you apply any when you grabbed a bottle of water when finding the stakes and string or reapply when grabbing the pitchfork? If you said yes, then BRAVO to you. No need to read further. But if you are like me, and all you put on were your clothes and garden shoes, please continue because-

I have cancer. Skin cancer. Basal Cell Carcinoma. Diagnosed last week. Not melanoma, so the first thought is one of relief. Relief? What an odd feeling with a cancer diagnosis-to be relieved. It’s only Basal Cell Carcinoma-BCC. Friends react to the news, “Thank goodness it's just Basal Cell Cancer.” I agree. Yet “Only” or “Just” in the same sentence with cancer seems like it would be an oxymoron of some type-Only…Cancer. But the … in between makes all the difference.

I asked my dermatologist to look at this irregularly shaped red spot about an inch inside my hairline I noticed two weeks earlier. I thought it looked suspicious, but tried to convince myself as much as I am in the garden, it was probably a bug bite and would go away. I pushed away the thought that bug bites are usually round. But if it had been growing there for awhile, surely I would have noticed it earlier, right?

I really, really wanted it to be a bug bite.

She took one look at it and said, “Hmm, it does look a little Basal-y to me.” Basal-y. Sounds so innocent. Cute almost. Like my favorite herb basil. “Oh, that pesto was so good, very Basil-y.” I love basil. I grow lots of basil. I make so much basil pesto I freeze it in the summertime so we can have chicken tortellini with basil pesto mid-winter. Maybe I ate too much basil.

If it had been melanoma, would she have said, “It looks a little Melanoma-y?” Doubt it. So yes, I am extremely grateful and relieved I only have BCC.

She referred me to a Dermatological Surgeon for Mohs Surgery. They will shave the area and remove a layer of my skin around the now biopsied site, place it under the microscope and see if they have clear margins. If not, they go back in and cut a deeper, wider chunk and repeat the process until the margins are clear. Apparently basal-y cancer can be very small on the surface, but can spread underneath like an upside down mushroom. Once clear, they suture it back together. But any mom knows when your child tears a hole out of their jeans, it isn't easy to sew it back without the edges rippling, so how is that supposed to work? I am glad it is in my hairline. Could I admit to moving up from relieved and grateful to now glad and happy, in fact, that it isn't right out in the open on my face?

When my surgeon’s office called to schedule the surgery, I asked if the path report came back with any more information, like is it staged? She replied that they don’t stage BCC, but there are types. She offered this statement: “If you have to have basal cell, it is the best kind to have.” My admitted happiness is now escalating to elation! I have the good kind!  But then later the statement eked into the party I was having in my head. If I have to have…?  I pondered, “But why do I have to have..?”

I’ll tell you why. I answered my own query, “Because of all my sun exposure, that’s why.” I should be surprised if I didn’t get it. Growing up in San Diego, much of my youth was (mis)spent getting sunburns at the beach. Back then we called it suntan lotion. As a teen you didn't want any screening, you wanted that deep Coppertone tan. So much of the damage was already done. But it didn't help to continue my inattention to UV rays.

My husband had the same type cancer about two years ago, and had the same surgery I am about to undergo. After a long day in the garden, he would top it off by getting in the pool to cool off and float in a ring with the afternoon sun for company, sans sunscreen.

So, gardeners, please take heed! Wear that goofy looking hat and apply sunscreen! Consider this a reminder, a (lengthy) public service announcement. Apply sunscreen, even on overcast days when you are just going to run out and pick flowers. Don’t get lost in the garden without it. Otherwise, as John Madden used to say about a missed extra point in football, “It can come back to haunt you.” And I wager you don’t want to see an apparition while they are carving a hole in your head…