The Nose Knows

What a difficult time I've had with this entry in which I intend to name my FIVE favorite floral fragrances. I've pondered all day, shuffled flowers in, shuffled them back out to let another in (and actually felt badly for hurting a flower's feelings). I considered the near impossibility of this selection process. I'm not including shrubs, so the heavenly lilac did not have to compete. After all the hard choices and with quite a mental list of runners-up, here we go - my five favorite scents in the combined divisions of annuals and perennials:

The rose could even be the universal favorite scent, as often as it is used in literature, love letters, poetry....... I never, ever smell a rose without thinking about my first prom, my first corsage. Funny how scents bring back memories, isn't it?

Sweet pea, so deserving of the name. A sweet fragrance in a most delicate, lilting way.

"lavender, sweet lavender;
come and buy my lavender,
hide it in your trousseau, lady fair.
Let its flovely fragrance flow
Over your from head to toe,
lightening on your eyes, your cheek, your hair."

Cumberkand Clark Flower Song Book 1929

The peony. It fills a room. In fact, it fills an auditorium. The townsfolk of my home town lined the graduation stage each year with vases of peonies from their own June gardens. I wonder if they still do.

Heliotrope - for it's rich and heady vanilla scent. I could re-write the bible with this one. Frankincense, gold, myrhh and heliotrope. I plant one of these each year close to the spot where I put my outside reading chair.

As I pondered these good things, it was only natural that a few plants crossed my mind that caused me to scrunch up my nose. And so, with no offense intended, I segue to my three least favorite scents:

I can't bring the pungent marigolds into the house for bouquets but they have their righteous space in the vegetable garden where their scent keeps insects away.

I truly dislike brushing against Russian Sage. But because it thrives in the spot next to my garden hose, it is inevitable. I will give it credit for its redeeming value, though. The deer dislike it as much as I do. I think it has done its part to keep them from nibbling away at "delicacies" such as the dayliliy buds.

When I saw Gentian Speedwell "Ramona" at a garden center last year I was arrested by its beauty. But the scent overwhelmed me on the long ride home; it was a most offensive traveling companion! The worst of the worst. I'm sorry Ramona, but you could have let me know before I paid for you. You will not have a place of honor by my reading chair. (But I still think you're pretty.)

How I would love to know what YOUR favorite flower scents are and what memories they bring to mind. Do share!

The Joy (and woe) of Composting

The problem to be solved: My compost pile had been rendered useless by the massive infiltration of roots.

The task at hand: Restructure my two- bin compost area in an attempt to save usable materials and to reduce future root problems.

Hank, always my co-partner in problem solving, created a new bottom for the bin that would receive properly layered materials for a decomposition process that could begin before winter. The new bottom was a metal screen raised a few inches from the ground and held off the root-bound earth by scrap lumber.

Lacking leaves in this young yard (hence lacking "browns"), we offered to rake our daughter's lawn. I could barely contain my excitement as we drove "Big Red" away with six big bags of leaves. Sarah was pretty happy with the situation as well. Time to organize the materials to layer: My hefty heap of old greens, bags of leaves, bone meal, bagged cow manure, a bit of fertilizer and the water hose. Let the layering begin.

The most challenging aspect was transferring my huge pile of poorly composting greens into their new bin. Initially it went quite well. Half way down I met with my nemesis, the roots.

Wishing I had a team of oxen, I severed and forked out clumps of tenacious roots, shook the dirt off and tossed them aside.

Whatever remained I forced through a screening device rigged up on a wheelbarrow. In a Go-Back-To-Start Monopoly move, small sticks and woody chips that didn't make it through the screen were tossed onto my new compost pile.

And below the screen? MANNA FROM HEAVEN!! Rich compost, complete with wiggly little creepy crawlies. Running my gloved hands through this and inhaling made all the effort worthwhile. It was at this point that Hank shouted over, "Do you want a spoon???" Three wheelbarrows full of GOLD were bagged and set aside for next spring.

And here is the finished project! My new, reconfigured and (hopefully) properly layered compost pile. Of course, the proof is in the temperature. I couldn't help but compare the testing to the hundreds of times I have run a thermometer to a fevered child and hoped the mercury would be down. But this time I hoped for rising temperatures each day as I tunneled to the center with a pitchfork and tested with my hand. Day One: Stone cold. Day Two: Stone cold. Day Three: cool. Day Five: Maybe a little warm? Day Six: Warmer! And this morning on Day Eight when I exposed a center portion to the air, STEAM!!!!!

Uh-oh, Hank just announced that if the compost pile makes me this happy he guesses he will never have to take me on a cruise...........I better tone it down.