Thursday, June 2, 2011

Ringing in the New June

I rang in June with two of my favorite people.

The first was this handsome fella.

The second was my friend, Jayme.

She's not a blog friend, anymore. She's done crossed over.
I love it when that happens.

We laughed about that unwritten rule that when you see a "blog friend", you must blog about it. No two ways. The truth is, I don't blog much about my real-life friends. It doesn't occur to me in the same way. Also, they probably don't fancy spending time with me and my camera. It's a different beast, fa show.

You may be wondering where I'm going with this. The point is, I've decided to blog about why I am not blogging about my day with Jaymes.


Here's what cinched it: We spent the most gorgeous day in the most gorgeous place on the planet, or at least in the county. We both wielded cameras. 'Twould have been criminal not to. And where the camera goes, the blog post follows.

I present to you, the famed Defries Garden of New Paris, IN.

It's a calendar garden, which I had never conceived of. All 365 days are represented on the circular brick pathway. The garden is divided into 4 quadrants, representing the four seasons. There is always something new blooming, although I have my doubts as to whether it'll be worth the trip come Winter.

The place is a hidden gem in the truest sense of the word.

It's breathtaking.


I'm not even playing.

I took hundreds of pictures, and a few of them turned out! In true weirdo fashion, some of my favorites were the ones that didn't. Maybe I'll spring those on you, one day.

Heck, maybe I'll spring one this very second:

I fell passionately in love with the sprightly Columbine. So much prettier and breezier than my stodgy Columbine, but you'll have that.

It was gusty, which complicated things a bit, but I finally caught her between dances.

We tracked down some critters and I followed Jayme around, nipping at her heels like a clueless apprentice. Because I am mostly clueless. And she knows a thing or two about gardens. She's more of an, "Oh, that's wisteria!" than an, "I like that purple flower. It's fancy!" Ahem.

Before long, it was lunch time.

I did my best to accommodate Jayme's Boot Camp diet even though she insisted that I shouldn't fret. That diet means business. (I made her turn around when I added olive oil. At dinner I asked her to hand over the tortellini. My conscience couldn't shoulder the responsibility.)
Bean salad recipe here.

I chewed her ear and she chewed mine and in between, we ate our salads. And I threw a fork square at her face on accident.

Oh, I wouldn't joke about that.

Siley munched on cheese and alphabet pretzels and took Elmo for a stroll.

Then this showed up and I couldn't think straight for all the dearness.

Then this showed up and I couldn't think straight for all the creepiness.

Eagle-Eye Aibie spotted a country greenhouse on the drive home.

It's amazing that she can carry him and be wrapped around his finger at the very same time. They've got a complex dynamic, those two.

Silas passed out a mile from home and napped under a shade tree in the van. I made Jayme a cup of hot tea with a teaspoon of salt.

Yes I did.

It's official: My brain can no longer handle the stimulation of visitors, or as I like to call them, "The English".

Dinner was soup (I only ever feed her soup for dinner, though this time there was nary a tough bean to be found).

She helped me track down the offending poison ivy that currently afflicts me.

Then, she drove away in the Heep and I spent the rest of my evening reflecting and peeing, on account of all the watermelon, tomatoes and brothy soup.

It was one for the record books, folks.

It shorely was.