The Avant Garden

Avant Gardener Plants BitterSweet!

Garden Buzz: Has he turned to the dark side?

SPECIAL -- Oriental BitterSweet planted by the Avant Gardener.

Asheville -- The man who calls himself "The Avant Gardener," known for funky rock formations and bent wire things that make little sense, yesterday completely took a 180-degree turn into the deep weeds -- he planted Oriental BitterSweet. Long known as such a foe of the invasive weed that he would attend back yard dinner parties and pull bittersweet, ".. when (he) thought no one was looking," the Avant Gardener inexplicably potted up a cutting in the warm April sun on Monday afternoon. As if that were not shocking enough, he also posted a sign -- allegedly written by the plant -- begging for water.

"Water me, please," the hand-lettered sign begins, "I know I am lowly Oriental BitterSweet and am rightfully rejected as a species, but right now am part of some wacky Avant Garden experiment. So please ... a little water from the can? Thanks!"

The Gardener, undeterred by the concern around the rockpile, said, "Hand me that rock, will ya?" when he talked about the topic in The Avant Garden Proper behind his house. "No one else has one," was the only other explanation he would offer, a fallback phrase he uses when things are going sour or have no other apparent explanation.

Oriental BitterSweet spreads by magic and berries and roots and vines. It climbs trees and pulls down the tops so as to ensure itself more and more sunlight. It kills everything in its path, eventually, though Rosa Japonica gives it a good tussle when the two indomitable pests meet. The Avant Gardener had been fighting deftly and consistently against the invader, matching its magic with his own doggedness. For him to plant some of the pest sent shockwaves around the RockPile, though no injuries were reported.  

***

But The Avant Garden is not a tabloid, it's about Spring, at least right now. But it is true that I planted BitterSweet; it's a new addition to the Avant Garden, as the hope is to make it grow up a string about 30 feet into a tree. And then kill it, though I might have some fun with it first. Here's what the sign says:

And it is true that it is an experiment, one with many layers of important questions -- Will BitterSweet climb nylon twine? Will passers-by water Oriental BitterSweet? Would you? Would I? How will I know if someone does water it? How much water out of the galvanized watering can will be lost to evaporation each day? Another sleepless night ...

In other news ... 

I went to see Wilco. And though they did not play this song at the show, you should give it a listen anyway:

whilst you peruse the photo madness, like this: The Galloway Arch is one of my most reliable ...

that's the Galloway Arch, once knocked over by a world-famous rock-n-roll drummer, and most recently by the neighborhood kids kicking around a football. That's it in the background behind the sticks. The rhododendron sticks were leaning against a tree awaiting assignment when we pulled up in the Avant Wagon. Rob and I went to work on 'em and then fixed up their Arch-on-Pedestal: Great spot, great stack, great folks ...

Remember that miniature kite idea I mentioned a few days ago? It's hanging in a miniature tree in the bathroom and has become part of the nightlight:

I have also been working on this quilt top, a River-inspired Queen-sized bedspread: 

I hung it on the wall while we had company so that I could look at it from time to time and think about it. I am in the midst of sewing it ... it's a topo map theme, with the energy emanating from the River up to the ridgetops ... like life is.

Rob and I are trying that upside-down-tomato-planter thing:

Both the Avant Spouse and Rob's Spouse requested Roma tomatoes. We planted basil in the top. Should be a fun experiment if nothing else.

In other news ...

Bent Creek has seen a spate of Avant Garden vandalism lately. I have halted my movement upstream from The Place Where God Hangs Out. I'd planned on a new Bent Creek Sculpture Walk, but not in that direction. It's too bad, as the rocks are eager to play.

April must rock! Sorry.

I have taken 308 pictures this month and it is only the 16th day, leaving 15 more to go.

I have driven to Bent Creek too regularly, a 38-mile roundtrip I really shouldn't take so often, but the stones have been good lately. For example, this colourful duo played with me one warm Spring afternoon last week:

Oh yeah, there's one more snow pic that's worth a showing:

The Avant Daughter said, "I've never seen the merit in these things before, but now that it snowed, I get it."

Groovy.

Meanwhile, back in Bent Creek, I had some vandalism and fixed the TureArch up again, and gave him a friend to keep him company:

I also made a tall strong blond stack that reminded me of my friend Susan at work-work:

It's in Bent Creek.

Probably the coolest thing I have done is this additional arch on the GoddesStack:

I finally set up on the back patio for sewin' in the Sunshine: 

It's a winning idea. The energy from the Avant Garden flows into the sewing machine and hopefully, good things come out. 

This particular projick was a leftovers blanket I sewed for the aforementioned Susan's daughter, Ellen. It turned out OK, but was nothing to brag about. Which is a good thing, because bragging is against the Avant Garden Prime Directive as we know it.

Remember the geese from last year? This happy family:

Well, most likely there won't be a 2009 generation.

The adults returned to the Island in the River behind our house and for about a week, we watched them tend the eggs. I was able to ascertain that there would be three, just like last year.

Saturday night, the Avant Spouse implored me to open the door to the AvantCave and listen to the "goose songs." I did, and the geese sounded really mournful as they went back and forth at each other, like "Dueling Banjos," but sad and honky instead of happy and plucky.

Then yesterday morning, we took coffee down to the River to sit with the geese and noticed this:

Busted eggs. That explained the sad songs. They kept looking at the eggshells as if they just could not believe what had happened.

I felt so bad for them I wanted to give them a big ol' Avant Garden hug, but felt that would be awkward and painful.

The Avant Spouse seems to think they might try for a second brood. We'll see. They hung around the Island for a while yesterday and then took off upstream and have not been seen since.

In other news, wading season is upon us, even at Bent Creek, where I did not wade to do this Arch:

Check out these Grape Hyacinth that came up on their own in the Avant Garden:  

On Saturday, we had a babyshower in the Avant Garden for a friend from work-work. His wife is pregnant. Before the festivities, he and one of the Avant sons jammed with the Avant Band:

T'was a great day.

The next day, I awoke with a bad backache, most likely from using muscles I normally do not exercise, such as vacuum-cleaner pushing muscles. I went to Bent Creek anyway just because the weather was so warm.  I worked small and was more pleased with this photo than I was with the stack:

The Avant Garden Proper (haha) is in pretty good shape right now. Stop by for a tour. It's still free, though I will take energy from you if possible.

Tonight (Monday, 6 April), I am going to a sewing gathering. I am going to make a miniature kite. I think. Pictures at 11.

One day it is like July, the next, we're back in January. But that doesn't stop weirdness from happening in the Avant Garden. For example, this attempt at a lamp popped up:

It glows red in the night, illuminated by a string of solar lights.

I am somewhat fond of it, though the globe is not quite right. T'was a reject from the Avant Dining Room.

The depth of field of this pic of the GoddesStack and the TriceStack struck me:

Also at Bent Creek, a coupla interesting rocks stood up for me:

The TureArch, last week's construction, is so pleasant to be with that a water spirit moved in:

Here's a closeup:

One friend suggested it was the spirit of her son Mike, who recently passed away. And maybe it was. Last April 2, as I was walking out the door to meet the Village Witch to go to visit Mike, who was very sick with cancer, I got the call that he had died. Maybe he did come to say, "Sorry we missed each other last year."

Speaking of the Village Witch, she said, and I quote, "It's fairies is all."

But Steve Dixon, possibly the best photographer in Western North Carolina, had the temerity to suggest, "Perhaps you should clean your camera lense." Harrumph.

it's Spring!

Yesterday (March  18) after work-work, I went out to Bent Creek, because the weather was divine and life was good. This resulted:

It's very sturdy, the material so ideal for the purpose that it fell together in a series of clicks. I saved the photo as the TureStack, as Ture is a variant of the name Thor. And then it thundered.

To keep it company, I did a talkative, thin stack:"Lithe" is the word that comes to mind.

They were up to mischief when I left.

I also downloaded some pics from Rob's camera and came across this one:

I like the way you can see the dancing spirit hanging in front of it, whispering, "This is a magical place ... this is a magical place ..." You can hear that, can't you?

Today I 'yakked down to Rob's and did some balances while he was out running errands. This was a favorite: Is "sealesque" a word?

 "Popcorn" Sutton was buried today. 

Look for that History Channel special he was on. He was a character. I suggested at work, "Well, his death was sort of the end of an era," and one of my colleagues said, "No it ain't. My brother-in-law's got gallons of 'shine in his fridge." But still, no other moonshine-running hillbillies that I know of have ever been on "Jackass."