600 Miles from Home

That’s how far away our oldest daughter, son-in-law, and two oldest grandsons live from us.  We don’t see them nearly enough.  The route takes us around mountains:

Around some

THROUGH  mountains:

THROUGH

Across rivers, which means BRIDGES!  Both hands on the wheel, eyes straight ahead, DB,  ’cause I’m closing mine!

ACROSS

Indianapolis has some beautiful, classic buildings and impressive war memorials:

Buildings

Daughter Boo has always been the frugal one in the family.   She loves turning trash into treasures.

Bottlecap and corrugated metal flag

Bottlecap and corrugated metal flag

A leggy plant

A leggy plant

Son-in-law doesn’t like this one. . . an old, broken door with crushed wine bottle panes.  He says it still looks like a broken door.

Wine bottles get new life

Wine bottles get new life

Son-in-law frequently quotes lines from The Big Lebowski.  Our other daughter’s children don’t know his real name.  They call him Uncle Dude.

This is NOT son-in-law.

This is not Uncle Dude.

The garage window that isn’t, really.

Garage door

This side of the garage is strictly for the birds.

garage wall

Daughter Boo does her trash to treasuring during long Indiana winters.   She loves gardening in spring and summer.

Bottle trees and castor bean plants grow with equal vigor.

Bottle trees and castor bean plants grow with equal vigor.

Sometimes topiaries aren't, really.

Sometimes topiaries aren't, really.

With WHAT???

With WHAT???

The tomatoes are edible, but not the mushrooms:
Magic mushrooms

Magic mushrooms

Little boys aren’t the only creatures making funny faces here.
trees make faces
Autumn crocuses?  Croci?

Autumn crocuses? Croci?

Looks like I was wrong about the mileage. Only 598 miles.   It’s not nearly as far as I thought.
sign

Benched!

It’s better that I stay away from outlets.  Not that I enjoy paying full price for things, but those tags showing how much I’m saving off full retail price sucker me in even when it’s a style that’s so not me. I’m not going to walk in and buy something without a use for it, but price does influence me enough that even if I want a brown skirt but the purple polka-dotted one on the clearance rack is 90% off, I buy purple and  try to learn to love it.

When we lived in Memphis, an outlet I discovered there had Smith and Hawken  gardening items.  I do love gardening toys!

We loved our neighborhood there–houses with wide front porches… kids jumping rope on the sidewalk… plenty of pedestrians and bikers– most good folks, but some up to no good.  I wanted some porch furniture to be able to sit out and watch the action, but it had to be something pretty hefty to discourage thieves.  Brazen thieves.  Our neighbor drove up one day to see one of her porch rockers  being carried up the street atop someone’s head.  Broad daylight and the guy was walking with a chair on his head!

Something very hefty was called for.

At the outlet store  I found a bench I wouldn’t ordinarily have chosen, but oh, the savings!  It had a wicker seat and back but the frame was. . .  cast iron?  lead?  I’m not good at guessing  metals,  so let’s just go with very heavy as in, looked like it was made from a manhole cover.  Decidedly undecorative; no arms… no squiggles.  Just your basic “wait here until your name is called, please” bench.

“What are you going to do with THAT?” I can’t even guess who many times DB has asked that, but why would anyone, even a husband, ask such a question about a bench?  What does anyone do with a seat?  I was going to sit on the darn thing!

And sit on it we did– on our front porch, despite the fact that it looked like it belonged at a bus stop.  I stuck potted plants around it  to dress it up, but I’m still unsure whether they softened the look or called attention to it.   I’ll just say this:  no one ever tried to steal it.

Fast forward ten years to the current house with its deck instead of a covered porch where the sun, rain, and salt air rotted the wicker in no time.   I wasn’t about to toss it–couldn’t toss it–not without a hernia, anyway.

A year of hearing,  What are you going to do with that thing?  Why don’t we just throw it away?Truth was, I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but truth wasn’t about to be told!  My $29.99 bench surely had some life left in it with a little resuscitation.   Finally. . . the AHA! moment hit.

The right way to accomplish what I wanted to do would have been to cover the back and seat with wire, then add moss and potting soil.  Working with any kind of wire is difficult for me and often means profuse bleeding,  so I chose the lazy way–landscape cloth, green floral wire, a series of very unscoutlike knots.  I know it won’t be permanent.   Eventually the cloth will rot and the wire will break, but Scarlett  O’Hara and I will worry about that tomorrow…or whenever.

Don’t  look too closely.  My handiwork is decidedly UNHANDY, but I managed, with needle and upholstery thread, wire, and safety pins, to attach that hairy-feeling cloth to the seat.  I filled it with potting soil,  and wound floral wire in a pattern across the back.  I was thinking “starburst” when I did that  part,  but it may look more like a Union Jack.  Whatever.

I’ve planted several different types of ivy in it and if I can make the squirrels stop digging that out and replacing it with hickory nuts,  I think I’ll like it.   Maybe I’ll add impatiens next summer.   Moss would  be nice.

What am I going to do with it, indeed!   Honey, I’m going to plant it!

I’m so inspired that I’m rethinking what to do with our old piano I can’t even give away.  What do you think? planter or blanket chest?

The wickerless wicker bench.

The wickerless wicker bench.