I haven’t had to do much out on the balcony lately besides water, remove dead leaves, and rotate. I did have to gently persuade a few wasps from making one of my hanging baskets their home. I don’t think they would be as cute as these garden pests. Fall is here and the weather is much cooler. When cold weather arrives I have to move all the balcony plants indoors. They don’t seem to enjoy that much and I have to find space for them inside.
Even though I’m not out amongst the containers as often, I’ve found a way to read stories about those who are. Green Prints is published quarterly by a family owned business here in NC. Stories and artwork are submitted by folks around the Nation but this isn’t a how-to magazine. It is filled with gardening stories, reminisces, and funny lessons. I’ve only read a few but I’m liking them and the cover art is lovely (see a few examples I swiped from the site below).
Paul and his wife collect antique postcards. One in particular has a penny stamp affixed and was sent from West Union, Ohio in 1910. The ship to address has only a name and the message reads: “Why don’t you come down? Have been looking for you so long. Persimmons are ripe so you see our long ugly winter is coming. Love to all. Affectionately yours, Agnes.”
If I squint and turn my head to the side I vaguely remember hearing the name Persimmon. I know it’s edible. Beyond that I am at a loss. Paul reflects on the idea that the flora surrounding us has become unknown to us in our days filled with technology and emails (and blogs no doubt). He says that people “seem more on the land than of it.” How many of us know the environment well enough to know that when persimmons are ripe winter is coming? Or that lemons don’t turn yellow until late fall. He relates this to having a sort of veil up between ourselves and nature. After reading the postcard Paul set out some Persimmon trees.
After reading Paul’s story I have a blanket and am enjoying my small bit of nature on the balcony.