gingkos

Years ago, my buddy Franny (fairy godmother to all four of our kids) and I each bought a gingko seedling.  She planted hers at her house in Sommesville, Mount Desert Island, Maine.  I brought ours back to CT, where I put it in the sun by our front doorstep.  Our silly family named the tree "Gary Ginkgo".  (We also had "Sammy Sequioa" for a while, but alas, his is a tragic tale). We took very good care of Gary, snugging him up close to the house in the winter, banking his pot with dry leaves from the lawn raking. But we knew that like many good things in life, he belonged in Vermont.   As he grew bigger we gave him bigger pots.  He grew heavier and harder to move. This went on for a very long time. When we finally found our spot in VT a year and a half ago, Gary was one of the last things we loaded onto the U-Haul truck.  His arrival in Vermont was celebratory and we auditioned him in several locations in the yard. He spent a few months getting used to a spot across from the front porch and just before the frosts came, we planted him in the ground. We are sure that his roots, confined to a pot for so long, relaxed into the delicious soil of the great state of Vermont.  To our relief, in the spring he sprouted green leaves.  In the fall his golden leaves shed into the magic of the foliage season.  

The zippered bags shown above go together fairly easily.  I used a fun little book, The Impatient Patchworker, by Jayne Emerson, which includes "20 great projects you can make in a hurry". Stitching these is a nice way to use up smaller pieces of leftover fabric.  

Please forgive the awkward placement of the photos on this post, the goofy "?" icon on the last one and the varying quality of the photos.  I learn best by doing, and so I forge ahead with this adventure.