The Garden of Eden is in Norfolk, Virginia

We arrived in Norfolk, Virginia on Wednesday, twenty-one hours after leaving home the day before. It was a long litany of waiting in airports and late flights. When we pulled out of the surprisingly lovely Norfolk International Airport in our rented Dodge Avenger, we were ready to navigate to our Airbnb host and collapse in a puddle of sweat and exhaustion.

Not one hundred yards from the airport exit was a sign that said Norfolk Botanical Garden.

You know what we did.

We turned that car right around and parked it.

We entered the visitors' centre and paid our entry fee and picked the brain of the lady at the information counter. This was the first thing we saw!

We took the tram ride around the garden to check out the best places to visit after we had rested. We paid for a boat ride for later in the afternoon. 

And then we went to find our rented room.

After meeting the hippie host (he makes rain-water barrels and brews alcoholic concoctions) and showering and resting, we drove the two miles back to the gardens. I was armed with camera and baseball cap.

It was hot!

The gardens are just over this rise from the airport. You can climb the berm and sit and watch planes land and listen to pilots' chatter over a speaker.  

Question: Why does Jeff strike such dorky poses?

You can walk along the top of the berm that divides the dusty airfield from paradise. 

The tram driver said that there is a gate between the edge of the airfield and the gardens so that travelers with a few hours to kill can enter the gardens for a relaxing respite, free of charge. All in the name of beautifying Virginia.

Now, that is a nice concept, but the gaping hole in the logic is that we didn't see any evidence of that information in the airport. 

Norfolk has a thing about really ugly mermaids. They're all over the place, like the cows used to be in Portland, only not as pretty. In fact, kind of creepy. I had to threaten Jeff with dire things to get him to pose.

We slithered around the gardens and Jeff waited patiently while I photographed every lovely bloom that caught my eye. The temperature was 94 degrees and HUMID! 

I'm pretty sure this is the same flower that captivated me in Haiti.

This is called a honey rose and as I was snapping the photo, Jeff said There are bugs in there!

I hadn't even noticed, but sure enough, as we made a commotion, they flew away. I barely caught this one as it climbed out.

Baby pomegranate.

The boat ride took us down a river and around a lake that is created by a fresh spring. It supplies the water for the people of Norfolk and tastes mighty good.

This is for a certain piratey girl of my acquaintance.

There are a few houses around the lake. 

I would probably live in this one if someone gave it to me.

Or this one. It would do.

You could live in this one and we would be neighbours.

 ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ And our friends are all aboard,

Many more of them live next door.

And the band begins to play  ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬  ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ 

A male eagle lives on the lake, along with four younger females. His mate was killed last year by a plane and he hasn't hooked up with another lady yet. We saw him several times and the last time he was flying off while being dive-bombed by several smaller birds.

Apparently, he gets no respect.

We saw several varieties of turtles, a blue heron, a water snake, and lots of whirligig bugs that made spirals in the water as they ran away from the boat. The boat ride was a relaxing, slightly cooler interlude in our day.

Then we walked several miles around the gardens, looking and sniffing and dripping perspiration.

They say anything will grow in Norfolk and I believe it.

I love mandevillas. I grew one a few years ago but it didn't survive the winter, of course.

Lilies of all kinds were everywhere.

I didn't notice the ant in this one until I edited it.

Angel statues scare me, but this one was nice.

I love the bud shape on mountain laurels.

Norfolk is very flat. This mound was built of excavated earth. We had been hearing the strains of an Irish flute as we neared the hill and we climbed the stairs to locate the source.

A man was sitting under a tree, playing his Irish flute just for the fun of it. It was quite beautiful and I treasured the melodious sound as we continued our explorations.

Crepe myrtles abound and I couldn't stop photographing their well-pruned shapes and smooth bark.

Australian tree ferns. Jeff wishes his looked like these.

We saw these corn stalks when we were on the boat and the same dragonfly was sitting on top. I thought maybe it was dead, but it was not.

Mmm. I do love passion flowers.

I was determined to visit the butterfly house, but when we arrived it was closed. I said a few choice sentences about people who closed butterfly houses before poor, tired, sweating tourists from Oregon could get there. Then I walked around the outside and was industriously trying to get a good shot of some of the butterflies through the netting...

...when I looked past the butterfly and saw my sneaky husband inside the building!

The back door was open, so in I sidled.

A few intrepid butterfly couples were making whoopee.

I took about fifty photos of these two.

What does that say about me?

We decided that the botanical garden is like heaven for bunnies. Unlimited food and no predators.

I told Jeff not to squint as I took this photo of him sitting under a great old magnolia tree.

This is a replica of the US Constitution.

The captain is at his table!

See? I am unreasonably fond of crepe myrtles.

Now these are good children!

I dragged an increasingly grumpy husband and footsore self to the hydrangea garden.

Let's face it. I might as well just succumb to the inevitable and call this a photoblog.

A phlog? Do you think that one will catch on? Or did someone already think of it?

The security person at the gate recommended Captain Groovy's Grill and Raw Bar for dinner (we take our recommendations where we can) so off we went.

I told Jeff he needed the Groovy Daddy burger.

Turns out he did.

Thank goodness I asked for the Cajun sauce on the side. Just a thin scraping on the baguette sizzled my senses.

The sun was setting as we drove to the house. 

We were asleep almost as soon as the sun.

Why can't art just be beautiful?

As we exited security at PDX this afternoon, my eyes beheld a huge aquarium full of jellyfish next to the window. 

Is it real? I asked Jeff excitedly.

You have to know that jellyfish are one of my all-time favourite things in the whole world.

As we drew closer, it became obvious that it was a piece of art. Nevertheless, it was beautiful, as you can see.

Gathered netting and lengths of gauzy cotton and felted wool are combined to make the seascape.

A fan is blowing, creating the illusion of jellyfish floating in the motion of the tides.

Fantastical coral and abalone.

Big old barnacles of felted wool. As I walked along the long faux-aquarium, I marveled at the imagination and skill of the artist. I am skilled at copy-catting just about anything, but no one has ever accused me of owning a wild imagination.

And then, at the far end, I came upon the artist's explanation, and all was in ruins.

It is difficult to read because of the back-lighting, but it blathers on about displacement of jellyfish in an aquarium and context and interactions between the jellyfish and the observers and blah-blah-blah.

She had me at the first diaphanous jellyfish.

She should have left it at that!

Another boring garden post

I love to walk around my garden, which is not perfectly tidy but is interesting (just like me) and observe the progress of the vegetables and blooming things.

Let's start in the vegetable garden. 

This is my second batch of cucumber seedlings. I planted the first seeds directly in the ground and they did not germinate. I resorted to planting some in my milk bottle bottoms and got better results. I'm a bit worried about leaving them in there while we are gone, but I think they have a better chance of survival if I wait to transplant them till we get back.

I had a lot of potato starts this year, thanks to some serendipitous acquisitions. They are in several beds and pots and even bags.

Lots of little lettuces are ready to be added to salad plates. I pick the larger, outer leaves and let the inner leaves keep growing and producing. The plants will last for several weeks this way. I'm also going to transplant some to a pot so that I can keep them going when the summer heat finally arrives.

New Zealand spinach is growing nicely. It is unaffected by heat, so we should have a good supply for smoothies and salads all summer. 

I was rapturous over a dozen-or-so baby kiwi fruit that were hanging on the vine last week. Then, in the evening of the first hot day, I went to gaze on them and more than half had dropped.

I was ticked!

There are still five or six left on the vine.

I started a couple of dozen tomato plants this year, all from seeds I saved from last year. I traded most of them for things like raw milk and other plants. I kept five and I'm hoping they have an enormous growth spurt soon.

Now on to the flower beds, where I have inserted some tiny kale plants this year. Hopefully, they will grow into big kale plants and I will learn to like kale!

The penstemon is blooming like crazy and making the hummingbirds and bees very happy indeed.

On the north side of the house is one of my favourite places. The ferns and hostas have filled in now that the violets, hellebores, and spring bulbs have died down.

Next to that, in a slightly more sunny spot, is a little raised bed with this lovely salmon-hued huechera.

If anyone can instruct me on the proper pronunciation of the latter, I would be greatly obliged.

Lori rooted this lovely miniature rose. 

Yes, that Lori. 

Is there anything the woman cannot do?

Rooted roses are the best. They can live for a hundred years.

My front flowerbeds still haven't been cleaned up from the spring bulb mess so we shall close our eyes tightly as we saunter past them. This sweet little thing is in a concrete planter by the front door. It wintered over and made me happy.

Remember Harvey? The poor thing has lost his nose. Several times. Grandchildren have disclaimed all responsibility for said nose decapitation, but I am dubious.

It sits between his feet until I can come up with a better solution.

Come to think of it, his feathers are looking decidedly worse for wear too. Maybe he needs a makeover.

Next to the path up to the front door is a jasmine vine, growing over a metal headboard. It is just starting to bloom. Walking up to our front door can be a heady experience during the several weeks of the jasmine bloom.

There's the door. Come on in, there's bound to be something yummy to eat.

♪ ♫ ♩ ♬ These are a few of my favourite things ♩♬ ♪ ♫

Sam and I went strawberry picking this morning. I was happy to have a collaborator, but I think I may have overdone it. Twenty-seven point five pounds, which I now have to either eat or squeeze into my overflowing freezer. 

One of the best things about living in Oregon is the bounty of fruit and produce that is available throughout the summer. The worst thing about strawberries is that they ripen right at the height of my allergy season. Apparently, the acupuncture is not working significantly on the allergies, because I have been confined to the house since arriving home late this morning.

Oh, but these little beauties were worth all the sneezing and sniffling.

California strawberries they ain't. I love their funky shapes and their tender juiciness. As I told Sam, I was a great strawberry picker when I was young because I didn't like them. All my berries went into the bucket. Even now, they have to be really good berries to tempt me, but I do love them for smoothies and *strawberry shortcake*, which we will be eating for Father's Day tomorrow. With lots of whipping cream, to offset the healthiness.

♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  

Peace roses remind me of my Dad, who used to grow them. The scent is divine and the flowers are prettily blushed with pink. These are in a lovely artisan vase. Jeff cleverly noticed me admiring it at Newberg Art Walk a few years ago and he went back to the shop and gave it to me for my birthday.

Most of the roses are covered in black spot and suffering from rain damage right now, but there are a few perfect blooms if I brave the pollens and search a bit.

♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  

A few weeks ago, I noticed that bees had built a nest in an old bird house that Jeff built and attached to a log trim. It leans against the cherry tree. It has housed chickadees in years past and we loved to watch them flying in and out, feeding their chicks. 

I like bees too, even though Jonnie says they are not honeybees.

I stood under the cherry tree for some time on Thursday afternoon, trying to get a photo of a bee leaving or entering the box. Of course, while I held the camera, perfectly focused and ready for the shot, nothing happened. As soon as my arm tired and I lowered the camera, up would fly a bee. 

They're crafty little beggars.

I managed to capture this fuzzy shot and then the camera battery died.

C'est la vie.

♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  

Here's a thing.

I have pledged to myself to desist from buying cookies at the store. They are too easy a snack upon which to overindulge and they are full of artificial ingredients, so I thought I'd narrow the list a little.

It has been helpful.

But then I bought a few loaves of Texas toast bread for 50cents each from G.O. and, at the same, opened up a new bucket of honey.

Oh my!

I've never been a great fan of honey; I mostly use it in my bread-making habit. But there's something about this honey that has me hooked. It is creamy and thick and mild and I LOVE IT!!!!

So I've replaced the cookie habit with toast and honey.

Yup.
It's that good.
My next pledge may have to be desisting from buying Texas toast bread.

Happy Father's Day to all of the dedicated dads out there.
The world needs you more than ever.

♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫  ♬ ♪ ♫