Marking Time

celebrating life with and among plants...

Hello,

One of my favorite ways to mark time is to gather seasonal moments in nature. An annual New Years Day walk with hummingbirds dive bombing the blooms on the Mahonia — and us. [check] Sowing sweet peas in February. [check] Then as the growing season picks up pace, I’m harvesting homegrown bouquets of tulips, watching for house finches nesting in the hedge, and celebrating the first ripe berries of the season. [check] [check] and [check]

Typically, at this time of the year I would be monitoring migrating Vaux Swifts stopping to rest for the night in an old brick chimney in Portland; driving over the Cascades to gather Osage oranges in the Yakima Arboretum; and walking around Greenlake, head bent, shoulders hunched searching for Amanita mushrooms, which frankly seem like fairytale magic hiding in plain sight. However, this year the performance of a certain baseball team has me pinned like a butterfly—a willing butterfly mind you. I desperately want post season glory for my beloveds, but I worried the squirrels are plundering those Osage oranges.

My grip on more formal time is at once both untethered and constrained. The calendar on my desktop/phone/tablet governs my days with deadlines, appointments and a sometimes-demanding to-do list. Without this crutch I could easily loose my place in the year… until I stepped outdoors.

This weekend I’ll begin my next trip around the sun, which is a good time to reflect on the past and plot the future. I’d also like to take this chance to thank loyal readers and subscribers for supporting me in doing work that I love here on this generous platform. I’m so glad you’re here.

xo Lorene

this month’s page of the 2025 calendar

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that In Living Color calendars also offer a gentle way to mark time.

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Shop Talk

I often describe Color In and Out of the Garden as a personal memoir mapped out in color and plants. Let’s celebrate life with and among plants with a sale. From today, 10/17 until 10/24, get 15% off signed copies of my book when you enter the code: TIME at checkout.

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The story of Cultivating Place has always been the story of the tree of life, and how and where we as humans fit into it most beautifully and beneficially. In addition to every conversation this month focusing on the artistry of Cultivating Place, the CP team is also thrilled to announce the 2025 Art of CP Online Auction which opens October 23 at 12:00am PT and closes on October 27 at 11:59pm PT.

I’m honored to have been asked to contribute my work in support of this heart filled, wonder infused endeavor. Click the button to explore everything on the virtual auction block.

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My Colors, briefly

It’s witch hazel o’clock. The venerable tree in the front garden looks like it’s lit from within.

Just another piece of nature, in this case a roly poly crabapple, picked up in a parking lot and stashed in my pocket. You know, as one does.

Gardeners are generous when it comes to sharing plants. Maybe that’s part of nature’s resilience. There’s nothing special about these little hens-n-chicks (Sempervivum) plucked from a clump edging a perennial border bursting with asters and other late season blooms, although that merlot color is remarkable. I’m told the plants have an impressive pedigree being the clones (of clones, of clones) of a plant in a garden in Sweden that once belonged to Carl Linneas, known as the “father of modern taxonomy.” Binomial nomenclature is a two-part naming system that facilitates understanding across all languages. Which was fine for hundreds of years until biologists began looking closely at DNA. Those lovely purple daisy-like asters are now classified as Symphyotrichum. So much for communication.

I heart fall.

Ouch! Ethiopian bear’s breech (Acanthus sennii) is wickedly thorny, even witchy you might say.