forever and ever

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dog fish monkey lover
sand dollar beetle compost oblong spectrum hover
and others

AIRPLANTS

lookin up.

miniature garden on coal

I have green thumb.
Plants grow for me, gifting me with their changes, vigor, naps, taste and tickles. nutrition.
I attempt to push the boundaries of where and on what the plants will grow...
A latest great success with such experiments is to grow plants on a pile of coal. Yes, coal from the mountain. A miniature isle of a garden, many folks may miss it - but those who hone on it get a treat. I don't think we will eat this one just give it a good old gander.
This pile and garden are part of my current exhibit in Miami at Dimensions Variable.

hello dear friend florida

the sunshine state, oh the plants you grow with that

the church of the tomato sandwich

the more of them you eat, the more god loves you! yay! and if you only eat one, god loves you just as much! perfection!
This particular prayer was made on Jim Thompson's homemade bread, with a tomato from Scott Minor's garden, name unknown so we'll refer to as the 'big yellow fella', with Duke's mayo, salt and pepper. Heavenly.

the oldest tree in Paris

On a grand trip to France with my mother, Monica, we sought out all types of gardens and gems of the plant world.
This tree is "said to be the oldest tree in Paris — a false acacia brought to France from Virginia in 1601, and now shored up with concrete posts" (New York Times Article, The Hidden Gardens of Paris, June, 2008). Who brought it? Don't know. Whats a false acacia? Its a Black Locust!
Wait a minute... we are from Virginia, and here we are in Paris visiting an old tree from our homeland. Awh. Hello cousin!
So naturally we think to take some seeds back to Virginia and grow them on the farm. Take things full circle! And in 400 more years a french mother and daughter could come visit this tree! Yeah!

It is wonderful that people have made these huge efforts to assist the tree to keep standing, note the flying buttress-like support and another, disguised to look like a tree, with a bark like finish. The real tree trunk is to the left and the support is the trunk on the right. YES to details.
I love you tree. You're lucky to live in Paris- and what you have seen in 400 years...

gnomes in berlin, its true

garden gang at the river farm

strategy

implication

new potatoes

steve johnson's garden and near momentus

the wider-angle
the detail, melon
the neighbor tree

sub tropical characters

outdoor bougainvillea shower and view

Lets all wish it upon ourselves.

plants in boxes, plants on mailboxes, mailboxes on plants...

Ms. Gardner

At dusk, by the beloved enchanted cemetery in dear key west, we find this beautiful elderly woman sweeping the leaves and flowers from the sidewalk in front of her house. We spy her riding by, walking our dogs, wandering...we admire her. She is extremely diligent in her task. On several occasions I have stopped to say hello, and she recognized me but was busy, and let me know gardening was 'hard work'. I scampered off but henceforth always kept her in mind on evening bike rides/lookabouts.

The Royal Poinciana have been blooming, madly. Oh delight! Oh absolute glory and godliness! Hallelujah!

These elegant, fecund trees shed petals and flowers constantly. I introduce myself to the hero of this story, sweeping up Royal Poinciana droppings in front of her house a few nights ago. She is feeling chatty.

Ms. Gardner (!) was born here and has lived here 81 years. I'd like to come by with a broom and help her sweep and she says, 'no thanks, this is my exercise.' But I can hang out, if I'd like, and talk. She is fit and pleasantly blunt. She tells me about the Poinciana which she loves, but is a lot of work. About the Indian Almond, a 3 story tree with foot-long oval leaves, which entices many a passer-by. It was planted by her uncle, when he was in high school for a friend a few years elder than him who died in world war one. We recorded the story, of him and his friends, how they loved this schoolmate and buddy who passed away, how they carried buckets of water each day as the tree grew from a mere twig. And look at it now, massive, glorious. And look at her. And here we are.

Indian Almond

royal, royal poinciana

oh you are truly magnificent.

looking up at night

night blooming cereus delight

I left very early one recent morning to drive to miami to catch a plane to new york city...these night blooming cereus were still blooming in that gentle early morning light, waving, "bon voyage, and come back" to me as I departed my dear key west

naughty blog neglect - behold the bombax tree and flower!

sorry, i have been consumed in an intense realtionship with this tree, the BOMBAX Tree, variety: shaving brush.... and away from the computer...

THESE ARE THE PUMKINS

Meet Helen Whitehead. We met over the garden gate. I had admired her circular raised beds from my dear friend, Tom Condon's, back porch....I love Richmond VA for its porches, for the views from its porches. After chatting at her alley compost pile we became fast friends.... as fellow artists, gardeners, hooligans, and lady's who share the name Helen.

On of the things I love about Helen is that she is completely irreverent.
I happened upon her, during a 24 hr visit to RVA in March. As usual, at twilight she was to be found a wee bit tipsy in her garden. She had sprouted some pumpkin seeds for me (from now forth referred to, as she does, as 'pumkin'), even though she didn't know 'where in the hell I was'. Fortunately I showed up for her to give them to me to take back to Key West.
It was my first time on the second floor of her home. I was lucky to see some new-to-me paintings. She explained their idea foundations in sound, how she transforms a sound into an image, to an abstract painting. How the sound a bugle makes can be stretched out linearly into a mathematic form....

last gasp of a cornrow, with moss

more moss

growing plants on coral, with aperature magazine

                                                                  please click to enlarge

coral rock, chia plant, aperture magazine, richard misrach photograph, nail polish

growing plants on stuff, in this case a washcloth