Garden Envy

I've been gone for a week. Did you miss me? We had a sun and fun-filled week at the beach, and I promise that a photo-heavy post about our adventures will be coming soon. But until then, enjoy my latest tale from the home front.....

I am a terrible gardener. Really, really terrible. Part of it is that I just don't have a feel for plants. I don't really know how to take care of them, I never manage the perfect water ratio, I don't know when to cut them back to maximize their fullness, and I'm too lazy to learn. Really, my lack of horticultural success can be summed up in two words- I'm lazy.

I don't know if you've ever been to Georgia in the summer time, but I don't recommend it. It's roughly as hot as the surface of the sun, with the added bonus of humidity so thick you feel like you're suffocating the moment you step out the door. And our yard seems to be blessed with a particularly voracious breed of mosquito large enough to carry off small household pets. It's unpleasant. And the only truly sunny, plant-appropriate spot is really inconveniently located at a far, underused corner of the yard. It takes actual effort to get out there and water it, so I don't.

Every year I vow to do better. I plant stuff in the spring with visions of glorious herbs dancing in my brain. Then I water it good for a week or so. Then it gets hot and I slack off. Then it gets hotter and I give up all together, leaving the poor, parched plants to the mercy of elements. A few valient specimens manage to straggle weakly along with only the occasional rainstorm providing a much-needed drink. I feel bad about it, but only when I look at them. And since they're in the aforementioned underused corner, the guilt isn't strong enough to ensure their survival. Like I said- lazy. But yesterday, I went to visit my sister and her lush jungle of herbs, tomatoes and okra inspired me. It was awesome. I was jealous. I coveted her basil. So I decided to give the herb garden one more try.

Now, I'm not stupid. I know that if I plant them in the same place, they will die. So I decided to switch things up. I had some planter boxes filled with good dirt left over from last year's lackluster tomatoes. I hadn't bothered to plant anything in them this year, so I decided to put them to work. I transplated the basil, mint, rosemary and chives that were barely clinging to life. I also added some more basil, dill and a jalapeno pepper plant. And here's where I made the change that might, just might, allow them to survive. Rather than leaving them in the sunny Sahara of the yard, I moved the boxes onto the deck.

It's not as sunny, but I had a basil plant up there that a friend had given me, and it was doing beautifully. Well, until Mason sprayed it with a whole can of Deep Woods Off, it was doing beautifully. (He was trying to keep the bugs off.) Had it not been the victim of pesticide-based murder, it was showing great potential. And it was close enough to the air-conditioned house that I actually watered it, and used it in spaghetti sauce. And if I only have to walk onto the deck to water them and use them, and if they're directly in my line of sight so I can't ignore their pitiful wilting, I might take care of them. So I think the relocated herb garden might just stand a chance. We'll see. If not, I'll probably just have to give up my dreams of fresh herbs and accept my black thumb!

Proud to Be an American

I love, love, love the 4th of July. It's fairly laid back as far as holidays go, but it celebrates some of the best things in life- love of country, fireworks, and barbecue. And I can't help but embrace any holiday where a cookout is required fare! Being good, patriotic Americans, we hosted a cookout of our own. It wasn't anything huge or elaborate, just another family and our favorite bagger from Publix (long story), but it was fun.

The steadily dripping rain killed my plans for a cute outdoor setup. So instead of a cute tablescape under the party tent, we had grownups with cocktails in camp chairs staying dry while the kids had the run of the house and yard.

I don't think anyone minded the lack of a festive table too much. We managed to stuff our faces just fine without it! And it did nothing to diminish the awesomeness of the piece' de resistance- the cake...

It looked like a regular, kind of festive cake, but it had a hidden surprise. When we cut into it, we revealed........

An American flag!!!!!

That's right. Every slice was a flag. How freakin' cool is that?????

After cake, it was getting dark enough for sparklers. We decided to throw caution to the wind and give all the kids sparklers- even the twinados. Hell, if giving three-year-olds flaming sticks isn't good parenting, I don't know what is.

They loved them, and Hays only burned one finger a tiny bit, so I consider that a success. And the older kids managed their sparklers with nary an injury.

Well, there was a near-fatality involving Mason and a rubber monkey. But hey, if you give boys fire, somthing's going to get burned.

Once it got dark enough, it was time for Matt's awesome fireworks display. Okay, so it doesn't exactly rival the one at Lenox mall, but the kids sure were excited.

Everytime Matt would light one, Hays would dance the whole time it was sparking and burning, then Will would clap and scream "Yay!!!!!!!!" when it was done. It was hilarious every single time. As we were watching our kids cheer on the fireworks, I looked at my friend, LeAnne, and said, "This is so much fun!!" And it was. Seriously, it was perfect. It was so small-town Americana, and we talked about how wonderful it is to be able to raise our children like this. If days like this don't make you love America, nothing will. Hooray for tiny towns, good friends, happy, healthy children, fireworks, and flag cakes, and the men and women that keep our wonderful country safe!!