Green Things

A couple weeks ago, the spousal unit and I drove down to Jay & Lynne's and picked out some plants we were buying from her (she's like a plant goddess) and then did a little shooting with them at Deer Creek before heading home.

So anyhow, one evening last week, the hubster and I were walking around the yard discussing how we wanted the landscape to look, and I saw these little doobers here and there in the grass.


Since there are no homes in the immediate area with maple trees, I figure these helicopters must have traveled across a field and way down the road a bit from a wooded area.
While we were walking and talking, I absentmindedly picked up the helicopters and just walked around with them.
Right before we went inside, I thought "I don't want to toss these back into the yard", but I didn't want to trash them either.
I really didn't think they'd sprout anyway, so I decided to stick them in a flower pot from last season that just had old dirt and junk in it.


I figured I'd give it a day or so and then fake out MiniMe by telling her something started growing out there on its own...and let her try to figure out how the pot got filled with maple helicopters.

I promptly forgot about it.

Yesterday, we went to a greenhouse and I saw some ferny things that I liked. I thought "Oooh! I want to put these in the empty flower pot on my deck table!"
So I picked three things that were sun/shade & moisture level compatible.


I brought them home and went out on the deck to find...
Maple Tree Seedlings!!

Now I feel guilty! I don't want to rip them out and toss them. They wouldn't even probably have rooted and sprouted if I didn't pick them up and shove them in dirt.
So now I have a flower pot full of old dirt and new maple sprouts sitting next to a few greenhouse ferns in starter pots.

Now what?

Anybody want a maple tree?

Snow... I haz it.

Overnight and early this morning, snowfall accumulated about four inches. More is expected in the next day or so.
Time to dust off my favorite Robert Frost poem:

~Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening~

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.