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Sweet Tea…

Southern LivingKeep It Sweet

Every now and then, Sweet Tea just gets to me…at a picnic earlier this summer- I drank at least three big red Dixie cups full of it- then took a big blue Dixie cup home with me- to help me cool off in the car on the way home… I had the cup swathed in a paper napkin, to catch the drips.  It’s been so hot, I rubbed my neck with the cool damp napkin- probably had sweat beads on it.  Then, I put that blue Dixie cup on my forehead and turned the air vent full blast on me to cool me off…Picnics are fun, but hard work- fanning flies, setting out pans of food, making sure a trail of ants doesn’t wind it’s way over to the Key Lime Pie or up the side of the Coconut Cake. I thought about that beautiful teething baby running a low grade fever, her daddy was in bed with vertigo and hoped they’d be alright… Anyway, about the Sweet Tea- it put me in mind of when I first learned how to make it and of another time when I learned to fully appreciate the Romance of making Sweet Tea. There have always been controversies over Southern Iced Tea making. Whether to use bagged Tea, so as not to have to strain it- or to use loose Tea Leaves so as not to have any of that lingering paper taste from tea bags; whether to use Lipton, Red Diamond or Luzianne. My grandmother preferred Luzianne, some said it was of her French Huguenot  side-saddle-horse-riding Momma– my great grandmother, Hattie LaVada Sparks.

Hattie LaVada never cast a shadow in her own kitchen; I’ve been told her husband and double first cousin, John Thomas Sparks spoiled her to death, most especially with Good Household Help; the cooks taught my Mimi how to make Biscuits light as a feather, Corn Sticks fit for the King of England, how to wring a chickens neck, then pluck, brine, steam it to perfection- then serve it with southern grown Rice speckled green with fresh Thyme, swimming in Lemon Butter; and of course the making of Sweet Tea. One of my uncles owned an Ice House- so you know we know how to ice it down. Well, you start with a Sugar Syrup. Don’t listen to anyone who ever tells you differently- Sweet Tea isn’t worth drinking if you don’t start with a Sugar Syrup. White Cane sugar, from sugar cane grown in Alabama, then refined is just the start… Make a pitcher of Tea with straight sugar and that sugar just sinks to the bottom of the pitcher and sulks.

  •  Sugar Syrup is the base, you can dress it up by adding
  • Orange Zest if you’re using Orange Pekoe,
  • Lemon Zest if you had Earl Gray- there’s a science to Sugar Syrup.
  • One cup of sugar to one cup of water, heated gently until every single grain of sugar is dissolved. Then you can doctor it up however you want to.
  • I’ve been told that the doctoring of it decided how strong you wanted it to be when it cooled off.
  • Long Island Tea probably was provoked by somebody from the South; though I have no personal first hand knowledge of this concoction.IMG_3186

There are lots of recipes for Southern Sweet Tea but if they don’t start with a sugar syrup? Find another one. I married a man who was raised on sweet tea but prefers ‘unsweet’– like some…he’s a purist. In restaurants all over the South, the waitresses ask ‘Sweet or Unsweet’? I’ll not venture to guess why this is- but I suspect it’s an influx of Yankees. I rarely make Sweet Tea just for myself- yet if I know some of my guests will want it, I make it. I will admit that there is a Fresh Mint Infused Sugar Syrup with my name on it in the refrigerator, and hopefully I’ll have some fancy ice cubes to dress it up! Now, let me tell you how I first observed the ‘Romance’ of Sweet Tea.

I was born in April of 1952, a leap year, after a hard winter. That sentence alone should speak volumes to you. We lived on a Circle in Birmingham, there were nice brick homes all around it. Right at the downward curve in the circle lived Roxanne Roberts. Her daddy was a travelling salesman, her mother looked like Doris Day. Roxanne. a blue eyed blonde looked just like she’d stepped out of a Madame Alexander Box. I had stick straight black hair with pale green eyes- Mimi said my eyes were from the French side of the family- her sister, Great Aunt Trix always peered at me and said to my momma- ‘Gene, isn’t she unusual?’ Every. Single. Time. Trix saw me. I’m getting off on a tangent…

By some quirk of fate, Roxanne liked me- I had a long ponytail, like she did, but Roxanne’s ended in a perfect curl; mine hung as straight as a horse’s tail. She had perfected a walk- sort of like a duck, which resulted in her ponytail swinging from side to side, it was remarkable. Roxanne’s  momma called my momma.  Roxanne wanted me to come over for a Tea Party. With my Tiny Tears doll in tow- which I suspect now, was the draw for Roxanne- we went out to their ‘Florida Room’– complete with louvered pebbled glass and handles that cranked the glass open… A breeze was blowing…

While we were checking out the wonders of Tiny Tears, Roxanne’s momma was in the kitchen right off the Florida Room- making a Sugar Syrup for the Tea. She was barefooted and had on red pedal pushers and a white blouse tied at the waist. She brought our Tea and Cookies out to Roxanne’s Tea Table and poured our Sweet Tea in sweet little juice glasses with a lemon slices and sprigs of mint. Roxanne said her momma always made Two Pitchers, one plain and a special one for her daddy. I had never heard of such luxury.

Mrs.Roberts was fixing his tea while we played. I heard her opening bottles and setting out some glasses, filling the pitcher with ice. She poured herself a long tall glass from Mr. Robert’s pitcher. Stirring it with a long iced teaspoon, she took a generous drink of it-humming to herself. All of the sudden, Mrs. Roberts broke out in song- ‘Summer Time…and the livin’ is easy…’  She paused profoundly, like she was thinking about the song long and hard, took another long sip leaning back- Then, whew! She dipped down and sang even louder…‘Fish! are jumpin’! and the Cotton is High!’ Swinging her head around; smacking her lips, with that perfect shade of red lipstick… My Momma never did that when she made our Iced Tea!  Mr. Roberts came home from out of town. Roxanne hung back- ‘Shh…watch!…’ Mrs. Roberts was swayin’ her hips and singin’- it was actually pretty good. She was no Ella Fitzgerald but Roxanne’s momma had the moves down pat. Mr. Roberts apparently liked it. He picked Mrs. Roberts up by her waist and swung her around and said ‘Honey, I’m just dyin’ for a glass of that sweet tea!’….

It is indelible in my memory- unforgettable.  Roxanne never asked me back for a Tea Party- I strongly suspect it was because she found out I had been impersonating Elvis from age 7 on up to about age 9.  But I sure never forgot there’s a certain Romance to making Sweet Tea.

Oh lord, y’all…what a story! It’s like every other Southern tale …part myth, part truth and part outright lies… Now don’t forget to make yourself a Sugar Syrup, one part sugar to one part water, simmered gently until every sweet grain has melted, pour into a glass pitcher, add the brewed tea and stir…‘Summer Time! And the livin’ is Easy…So hush little baby don’t you cry….’

Love y’all, Camellia

*photograph from Taste of the South and may be subject to copyright- click link at the top of the photograph- it includes recipes for Sweet Tea- don’t forget you’re looking for the ones with Sugar Syrup *photograph of Sweet Tea includes some of those fancy ice cubes I was talking about! photograph is obviously mine

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My Space to Write Among the Ghosts…

“All Southerners are the great-grandchildren of ghosts.”    William Faulkner

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About a week ago, I started a new Word Press Challenge- Everyday Inspiration. Today’s challenge is entitled ‘A Space to Write’- asking me to write about where I write. When I cleared the space a bit to take a photograph, I was struck by William Faulkner’s quote-

‘All Southerners are the great-grandchildren of ghosts.’

I should frame it, because where I write- I have ancestors looking over me- most prominently- my very handsome great grandfather. I never knew him, he died very young. But every time I made a phone call from my grandmother’s house, Granddaddy Holmes was listening, he was hanging beside the phone, in his suit and bowtie and slickened hair.

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His name was Charles Richmond Holmes, a very distinguished name. He doesn’t haunt me too much, but apparently his arm was cut off when he was run over by a train- he bled out and died on a wagon. They left his arm, not sure if it was the right arm or the left arm, but it was placed on his front porch for some reason. I know it sounds like a bad country music song, but my mother swears it happened. His wife, Granny Holmes suffered from attacks of Melancholia, ever afterward.  Mimi said that you could always tell when a spell of Melancholia was coming on…Granny Holmes would sit on the front porch rocking to and fro- reading her Bible out loud, the faster she rocked, the louder she read- the more melancholy she got. So I guess Charles haunted my great grandmother from time to time. I only knew her briefly, she was really ancient- but I do recall her funeral, folks seemed relieved to see her go. But she did leave me as the ‘southern great-grandchild of a ghost’.Any time my sister and I acted up, or anyone acted down or depressed, Mimi would say- ‘you’re acting just like Granny Holmes.’

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Underneath my great grandfather is a collage of pen and ink drawings with the St. Clair County Courthouse in the middle, surrounded by some of the old homes around or near the courthouse. One is a Bed and Breakfast now and was built by a Probate Judge for his bride when he returned from the War Between the States. He had just one foot- the other one was lost in battle. (This wall seems to have an underlying theme of lost appendages.) There are many stories to be told about the homes and how this collage of drawings came into our possession, but I shall leave that for another time. Suffice it to say, my father in law was Judge of Probate for 14 years and my husband succeeded him in office, after a hotly contest primary, runoff and general election, he served for 20 years and is now retired. The two of them are in the very Courthouse immortalized in the ink drawing.

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My father in law had notecards made from the original drawing and we continue to use them for ‘official’ thank you notes, congratulatory or sympathy cards; so that drawing haunts me, knowing how many I need to write in any given day. I also have a great longing to see that courthouse and the surrounding homes more often- but Backbone Mountain and several miles separate me from seeing it on a regular basis. We are one of the few counties in Alabama which have two courthouses, here because of that big mountain at the tail end of the Appalachian Mountains. The courthouse is said to be haunted, I’m sure it is- a hanging took place there I think; that is one of the hauntings…Anyway, our courthouse has been in continuous use longer than any other in the state of Alabama. It has a long and colorful history- St.Clair County is older than the state. Ashville is the county seat; the courthouse does face south as most old southern courthouses do.

Below the drawings, my Grandmother looks straight at me from a handmade bowl. Her expression is very intense-and it should be, since she was seriously funny.  Most southern women love talking about food. She was no exception- she was an exceptional cook. She is my Wisdom and Food Muse, I can still hear her wise, witty comments. For instance sometimes she says to me: ‘Get in that kitchen and see if you can fix something fit to eat.’ She said that, at the end of almost every conversation I ever had with her- before she hung up- ‘I need to see if I can fix us something fit to eat.’  Mimi is her younger self in the photo-she told me that she always thought she was 18 years old until she looked in the mirror. Next to the bowl with Mimi in it, there is an iron cross which always inspires but particularly on Saturday nights or Sunday mornings when I write my ‘Sunday Inspiration’ posts and was my constant companion as I wrote the four year Bible study which led to the publication of my book, ‘Four Days- the Lazarus Principle’–image

My author’s copy sits beside my laptop. The book has many travel stories and other things that inspire me still; number one is: ‘If you can write a book- maybe you can write a blog.’

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Off to the side are two mirrors, one is slightly below desk level- I like a sense of mystery in home design- that’s how the wall ended up before I decided to push the desk in front of it. Above that mirror is my grandmother’s mirror; it is not a mirror to look into unless you want waves and streaks distorting your image, which I don’t. Above that mirror is a silhouette of myself as a child, my hair shape hasn’t changed too much.

The desk I write on- came from a local antique dealer but it’s been at my house so long, it has probably gotten more valuable- or not. The chair I sit in, is shared from time to time with Walter. I don’t think he particularly likes to sit in it but it is a deterrent to my writing when he wants to be brushed, watered or fed. And under the table, on the quirky wall is an empty antique printer’s drawer with tiny spaces for letters to typeset copy. Maybe it is the perfect writer’s wall, now that I think about it. That fat red notebook is stuffed with ideas and things I need to remember if my laptop expires as it is wont to do occasionally. The lamp is a thrift store find, the base turned out to be real pewter; it sheds good soft light. I sit facing East, a very pleasing direction for me, and the ghosts of this Southern girl- face West and gaze at the sunset every afternoon, I hope it keeps them calm and happy. I don’t need them rattling around too often. But I am not lonesome when I write:image

                                                        Walter, our Chief Feline Officer

Now, if you are not snoring or passed out from boredom– I need a favor. Part of my assignment is to ask you, the reader- for writing prompts. Did you hear that?? You are supposed to inspire me! (and you do! just need a little written prompt from you!) I will record your ideas and the inspirations in that fat red notebook – then perhaps I can pass this WordPress Course I am taking. I wouldn’t want to make the Happiness Engineers unhappy.

Seriously, post in the comment section on any media that you find this on -or go to my ‘About’ page and email me through my contact information, I’m on a time frame here- 10 days to go for this!  Your Ideas or what you most want to know about Camellia’s Cottage, as if I haven’t hung out enough family ghosts and craziness since I’ve been writing this! I also don’t want to fall victim to Great Granny Holmes’ Melancholia. I won’t send any family ghosts to haunt you, and your name will not be used unless you want me to publicize you to high heaven- And don’t ever forget this-

I love y’all, Camellia

*All of those less than perfect photographs were taken by me.

 

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Grocery Shopping after Vacation…

imageWhen I get back from vacation, I start the ‘wash’ and then go to the grocery store. As you know, strange things happen at my grocery store. Other people tell me they go without incident, except one friend who was asked on a date not once but twice in the cheese department! She’s a lady of a certain age as I am- so that was remarkable. I have not experienced that yet, however- today’s trip was interesting as usual. Since there was barely anyone in the store, I was sure this would be one of those rare, unremarkable trips.

I was trying to pick out some bananas when someone came up behind me and said- ‘I bought bananas last time and they were tasteless.’ I smiled and said ‘Well you know, we have to have our bananas- for cereal or maybe a banana pudding.’ ‘If you’re talking banana pudding, they might work, but the Granny Smith apples have more taste.  I pushed off thinking how tasteless it was to make comments over what I was buying! I got over to the floral department- nice lady there. ‘How are you?’ Oh fine, how are you? ‘I’m burning up!’ Really? it feels pretty cool in here to me. ‘Well, trying to work under these heat lamps is about to put me under the cooler!’ Honey, I’m sorry…have you told management?

And by the way, while you’re at it can you tell them they are out of Diet Rites? I have to get those because I’m allergic to aspartame and they don’t have any Diet Rites. ‘Allergic to aspertame?’ Yes. A guy from another cola company who was stocking- said, ‘Diet Rites don’t have aspartame? I’m allergic to it too.’ The flustered floral department lady said ‘What happens to y’all?’ Cola man said, ‘It makes my lips go numb.’ I am astounded. ‘It just causes some tingling and numbness but I’ve never had my lips go numb.’ He swore it did. Well, who am I to judge?  ‘ I used to drink these’ and pointed to an offender. He said, ‘I’ll tell you what happened to the mother of a friend of mine. She loved those, she opened a can and something hit her lips and it was a tiny mouse!’ What?!?!? ‘Yep, they wanted to settle out of court for millions- but she told ’em she’d take 2 million and a case of those colas per month for the rest of her life!’ I shook my head and thought how brave that woman was, to put her life on the line every single time she popped a can. I shoved off thinking that was my ‘incident’ of the day…no, wrong.

The floral department lady called out to me, ‘Camellia?’- ‘Yes?’ ‘Did you know that Granny Smith died?’ ‘I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about but I sure am sorry to hear it.’ ‘Well she lives over on Shanghai Road and worked as an OB/GYN nurse for …oh a long time.’ Really?  ‘Yes, there will be a mob tonight at the funeral home, she had 47 great grandchildren.’ Now, how old was this delivery room nurse?  ‘She was 94, had a good long life.’ Yes, she did. ‘And a memory like a top until the last few years, knew the names of every single one of those great grandchildren.’ Now, isn’t that something? But she wasn’t through, told me who was related by marriage to the Nurse…my ankles were twitching thinking about those tiny mice floating around in those diet colas.

She had more to relate and had  obviously recovered from the heat lamps. She started telling me about another lady who was on her deathbed. ‘Yes, two days ago,  called the family in and told them she had about 24 hours to live.’ Her daughters were horrified because for one thing- this lady is one of the best cooks in the county and they just knew she was taking her recipe for pound cake, egg custard pie and coconut cake to her grave, among other things. She never wrote anything down or if she did, there was always a critical ingredient missing. ‘But she’s lingering on, not dead yet…and the food! oh my when word got out that she was dying- offers to make devilled eggs, fresh green beans, squash casserole- the Sunday School class was providing the ham- estimates of how many to feed went out and paper products, cutlery, cups, sweet tea, coffee- then, giggles and exclamations from the floral department about the baker on her deathbed- ‘Maybe the offers of food at her wake had kept her hanging on.’ I wondered myself if the baker was waiting to hear if someone would dare bring a custard pie or a coconut cake to rival hers. ‘The phone lines are hot with arrangements- she was still hanging on but it wouldn’t be long…she’d been ready to ‘go’ ever since her husband had up and died 8 years before. Was never the same. Baked a dozen cakes and two dozen pies the night her husband died-for his wake. It seemed to calm her nerves.’ In the South, when someone dies, we can put on a funeral, is all I can say.

I thought-I’m not encouraging this…’Well which funeral home has Granny Smith?’ She sucked in her breath…and told me the arrangements, told me again that there would have to be enough food there to feed an army what with 47 great grandchildren. I thought about offering up my bananas but why send something so tasteless? ‘Well listen darling, if we can make it over there we sure will.’ I. escaped. Surely this would be it for this trip. Not so, as I rounded the corner the butcher was waiting with his cellphone open…

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His daughter is married to a distant cousin. I thought he had new pictures of his 4 year old grandson, who apparently got the call to preach last year on the Fourth of July. Battling heat, mosquitos and swatting flies- a crowd gathered on the bleachers, waiting for the fireworks. This little dark haired tyke, marched to the front of the bleachers and called out as loud as he could- ‘Can I get an amen? Hallelujah! Thank y’all for coming out tonight!’  He sang, he waved his little arms, he hollered out amen and amen…he ran the rails, he called down fire. And what do you know? Fireworks started popping and fizzling- the sky lit up. Yes, he definitely had the gift. Got it from our side of the family no doubt. But this was not to be the story from the open cellphone…that’s next week…the Fourth of July.

Oh no, the butcher wanted to show me a picture of a buggy load of some of the finest steaks in the store! Someone had tried to leave the store with that buggy load the night before- ‘Well, I’ll be.’ ‘You think that’s somethin’? They did manage to get a buggy full of King Crab legs out of here- just watched it on tape.’ Will wonders never cease.

Surely this was it…I managed to get over to the dairy aisle. I felt the shadow of a man come over my shoulder.- I was thinking- surely it’s not the creepy man who asks women out on dates by the cheese. It wasn’t. He was very tall, so skinny he probably had to stand sideways in the shower. ‘Hey, Ms. Camellia, did ya hear ’bout Granny Smith?’ Yes. I. did. ‘Slipped on a throw rug, broke her nose, black eyes and everything- said some of those great grandkids were underfoot.’ Well, that’s awful. ‘Did ya hear my momma died?’ No, I didn’t. I am so sorry. How did she die? ‘I’ll tell ya what got ‘er. Cigarettes, Lard and Beer.’ I could not think of one thing to say, except – Cigarettes. Lard and Beer? How old was she? Soulfully, the thin man said ‘She was just 92.’ I cleared my throat, straightened up and said-‘Well, I hate to hear it.’ I saw a friend as I was leaving the store- I told him not to buy cigarettes, lard or beer, that he won’t live past 92. He said- ‘I tell you what Camellia, if you’ll add Gin to that diet I’m goin’ on it.’ Me? I’m switching to water. You cannot make this stuff up. image

I missed everybody when I was on vacation- cannot wait to share some of it with you! Just had to have some fun and share the continuing grocery store saga with you! Until next time-

Love y’all, Camellia

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Simple Spicy Shrimp…

I admire food bloggers- their sites offer photographs of food that are so beautiful they make  my mouth water even when they use food I otherwise wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole! It’s doubtful I will ever be a decent food blogger- however food is one of my passions, instilled in me by my grandmother. She was the best cook I’ve ever encountered.  I’ve eaten in the finest cities in the United States, I’ve tasted some of the best southern cooking right here in my home county, but Mimi’s recipes are my touchstone. When I cook, I ask myself- ‘Would Mimi think this is fit to eat?’  This recipe is not one of hers but she would have loved it- so here goes…

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Simple Spicy Shrimp

Alabama’s Gulf Shrimp is some of the best in the world, there’s even an annual Shrimp Festival! I buy Gulf Shrimp from my local grocery store which gets deliveries almost everyday- the seafood manager has told me if I am not going to use it immediately to freeze it, so I do. If you buy shrimp, let me tell you how old timers gauge if it’s fresh- the next time you are at the Gulf of Mexico-or in the ocean- scoop your hands in the water, smell it deep and long…that’s what fresh’shrimps’ smell like. Strong odor? don’t buy it!

The shrimp in this dish are large (21-30 count per pound) peeled, deveined and tails removed but you can use unpeeled, peeled with tails on, whichever you like; the truth is, if you keep at least the tails on- the sauce will be more flavorful. I used 2 pounds of shrimp. I also made rice according to package directions for 4-6 servings. and I steamed broccoli, adding some lemon zest and 2 wedges of lemon as it was steamed. And I purchased Italian bread and warmed it, then sliced it before serving. Do not add anything to the bread! it is used for dipping!

  • This one platter meal serves 3-4. The shrimp cooks in the ‘sauce’. I  say that loosely because, this easy sauce thickens as the shrimp cooks. The sauce uses a bottled dressing which I only use for Simple Spicy Shrimp. I prefer making my own salad dressings. I have tried to reproduce this Shrimp without using the bottled dressing and it never turns out right. Since it is so good? Why mess with it?

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There are several brands for the Zesty Italian bottled dressing – I prefer Kraft. You may find Lawry’s Seasoned Pepper difficult to find, but it must be used as well. Old Bay Seasoning is readily available – usually in the seafood section. For the Simple Spicy Shrimp, I used-

  • 2 lbs. of Uncooked Large Shrimp (thawed, chilled and set aside- until the sauce mix is ready)

For the Sauce-

  • 3/4 stick of salted butter (no substitutes)
  • 1/2 bottle of the Zesty Italian Dressing
  • 1/4 cup of the Lawry’s Seasoned Pepper
  • Old Bay to taste- which for me is about a tablespoon.
  • 1 teaspoon of red pepper flakes (to taste if you are sensitive to spice)
  • 1 tablespoon of salt (shrimp needs salt- sea salt is best)
  • Zest and juice of one lemon

In a large saucepan, over low heat-gently melt butter. Add Zesty Italian, Lawry’s Seasoned Pepper, Old Bay, red pepper flakes, lemon zest and juice, bring to a gentle bubble. Add Shrimp. *caution, do not leave the saucepan- do not overcook shrimp! Shrimp continues to cook even after you turn off the heat and it will get as rubbery as a garden hose if you bubble or boil it too long! Just let it get gently pink, stirring occasionally. Take off heat, let it shrimp stand in sauce as you are assembling the platter. Cut Italian Bread, drain prepared steamed broccoli and fluff up the rice- add a little lemon zest to the rice if you’re so inclined.

Before I started the shrimp and the sauce, I prepared a large platter as shown, with hydrangea leaves and fig leaves if available. Separate the rice from the broccoli- or shoot! you can just mix it all together – however you want to serve it!

With a large slotted spoon, remove the spicy shrimp from sauce- pour the remaining sauce into a bowl- you’ll want to provide small individual bowls for each guest. (You’ve gotta dip that bread into the sauce and slurp it all over the rice and shrimp and broccoli too!) Decorate platter with lemon wedges and serve! Let me know how you like Simple Spicy Shrimp!01ab07f152d8843cc5dacd87f62023a58483f2db78

 

The great food bloggers don’t have anything to worry about from me! Just wanted to give it a try! You know, I get sort of tickled- recently Birmingham Alabama was voted a ‘new foodie’ city and it is; the truth is? I rarely remember a gathering of any sort where food was not cussed and discussed- Southerners love food, they love to eat it- talk about it- fix it, tweak it, fry it- oh yes, and real frying is not like you get in fast food places either…We have always had good food, and good cooks, good bbq joints and fish camps, fine dining, dinners on the ground where tables are groaning with food and folks never leave empty handed- taking a ‘plate’ home. I guess I learned that putting a lot of a few great things on the table, with a little something extra- like a platter of sliced tomatoes, thin slices of onion and fresh cucumbers…truly make a meal easier and oh so good!

Love y’all, Camellia

Find cookbooks and recipes for Alabama Gulf Coast Shrimp Alabama recipes

 

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Hydrangeas!

I have an ongoing conversation with my garden. Nature speaks to me in a strange language- I see dressmaker details in flowers- I see faces in wisened old trees, I see fabrics- sheer, satin, velvet or nubby. When a stem or branch bends or twists, I see embroidery or applique.  I see elves and nymphs hiding beneath tree roots; butterflies and hummingbirds are flowers in flight-busy bees remind me of happy cooks and homemakers. Let me say it this way…I try to use words to describe things when there are no photographs; for instance-if you couldn’t see these beautiful hydrangeas– how would I describe them to you?

  • Blue Eyelet Bloomers?
  •                  Blue Flowered Bubbles?
  •                               Big Blue Pom Poms on a Green Chenille Bedspread?
  •                   Blue Clouds over an Ocean of Green?
  •  Blue Lace Lollipops on Pale Green Sticks?    or Pink Cotton Candy? or-
  •                         Orbs overlaid with blue crochet?

Hydrangeas bring on summer with the pomp and circumstance of a parade- and stay around until autumn like pale parchments as if they hate to see the season go…

They are not fickle- though they do tend to surprise me…changing in spring from pale green to blue then brighter blue or decide that they might like to wear lilac instead…

Before new hybrids- old timers would say to ‘sweeten’ them up- with lime…to get pink blooms. Just look at this pink hybrid! Reliable bright cotton candy pink blooms shamelessly flamboyant in a friend’s garden!image

And in the last few years, I’ve become enamored of these sweet lace cap hydrangeas!

A bevy of beauty whether in a bouquet or peeping through a fence- I have to admit I love hydrangeas!

I’m greedy, I always want more! So, as much as I enjoy describing hydrangeas with words-I have to share more- hoping you love them too!

Cultivating Hydrangeas is easy – great companion plants in a slightly damp, shady or dappled shade environments, under-planted with spring bulbs, hostas and Ferns…Try it!

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If you follow our blog…

  • We won’t ask if your weight on your driver’s license is the same as on your home scale.
  • We won’t ask what you were eating or how much when you got that grease stain – or
  • Why you didn’t put down a quilt when you got that grass stain!

We will never ask when you started dyeing your hair, why you cut your own bangs –

  • We will gently let you know that your dress is hiked up-
  • We won’t mention that the buttons seem to be pulling since you gained so much weight…

We like you just the way you are! Stop by anytime day or night.  We’ll leave the light on!

Love y’all, Camellia

Thank you to a fellow lover of hydrangeas and friend -Alyson, for the beautiful photos of your pink hydrangeas and the bouquet! Think you want to grow hydrangeas? Here are few resources from Amazon.com-

Hydrangeas!                 Hydrangeas