Yar-Dart (Or "Is that a Flamingo in Your Garden?")

The title of this blog comes from the summer I interned at Powell Gardens in Kansas City. The highly trained horticulturalists there came from several different schools of Hort but they all agreed that there is a difference between garden chatchkas (flamingos, outlines of a cowboy leaning on a tree, a wooden cut-out of a fat lady's bloomers showing...you get the idea) and garden statuary. The former they termed "yard art" but pronounced it "yar-dart."

I must confess, I have both the highly esoteric garden statuary (St. Fiacre, the patron saint of gardeners; a laughing Buddha; a gargoyle reading a book; a wistful garden fairy, a cardinal {not the guys in Rome, but the bird}). And then there are the more low-brow items (metal sculptures of a very large ant and a mosquito; a lightening rod taken from an old farmhouse, complete with China blue ceramic insulator; a blue reflecting ball; a trio of stylized cattails).

This diverse collection just about sums up my eclectic tastes. I love the Buddha, who smilingly watches over the vegetable garden. Last year, he was at the top of the stair on the front porch when an unfortunate accident with a dog straining at a leash resulted in Buddha doing a full gainer down the stairs and losing part of his nose. He's much safer in the veggie garden.

The reading gargoyle seems particularly appropriate, due to my love of Medieval architecture and reading. He greets visitors at the front stair to the porch. St. Fiacre once stood there, but he is so contemplative that he's happier in the side yard shade garden, which is quiet and peaceful.

Most of my yar-dart has been given over the years by my kids. My step-daughter was the one to find the lightening rod. My son relates to frogs, so he is the one who gave me both the gargoyle and the very self-satisfied looking frog. He also found the St. Fiacre...you wouldn't believe how many garden centers there are selling St. Francis as St. Fiacre. Sacrilege! The big difference is, St. Francis has birds lighting on his outstretched hands, while St. Fiacre cradles a plant with exposed roots and a small shovel. He obviously is in the process of transplanting the delicate shrub.

Each one means something very special to me. I got the metal bugs ('scuse me, "insects") while married to a entomologist. THAT was a big mistake, but the insects aren't. Every few years, I spray paint them to match my mood and the garden they are going to that year. This year, the ant is a lovely day-glo pink and the mosquito a fire-engine red. I used to have a bumble bee as well, until he got lost in the bowels of my shed. Also from that era, I gained a sprinkler sculpted as a preying mantis from a dear friend.

 And yes, they move around, depending on where I think they might show the best. They sometimes change colors, 'tho some of them just get a clear coat to protect them from weather.

 

The very esoteric gazing globe sits on a truck spring, which was a dern sight cheaper than some of the structures they have to put a globe on in the garden stores. And I like the whimsey of the light and airy globe contrasting to the industrial weight of the spring.

 

And that's not even counting the number of whirly-gigs, wind socks, pinwheels and wind chimes I have in the vegetable garden. I call them "scare-rabbits" because the crows seem to mind not at all that they are there, but the rabbits don't chow down on my lettuce, peas and tender beans with that much movement and sound in the garden.

Every few years, I add to the collection and I have to renew the pinwheels in particular because the hops vine seems to want to eat them. I don't think they're actually designed for outdoor use.

I'm thinking next year, I'll get some pink flamingoes, but I don't want just a pair, I want a whole flock. Which might make it difficult for my son, who mows, trims and blows my yard, to maneuver his riding mower around.

Maybe I need a garden gnome.

 

Cardinal is His Color

"Cardinal is her color,
Jewell is her name.
High upon a hill she stands
And we will fight to keep her fame.
Loyalty, allegiance
Alma mater true.
We will love thee, serve thee forever.
William Jewell."
-William Jewell College anthem

My dad and I shared a common alma mater, unlike the 5 other members of our family, who graduated from Ouachita Baptist University (then college). Four of my siblings are alums of OBU and my mom went back to school after the last of us started kindergarten and got both her BA and MA from there. Home for the holidays during my college years, we would "honor" the rest of the family with a duet of the above song. Back then, I even had a decent singing voice.

The cardinal was the school mascot as it was the St. Louis MLB team, where Daddy grew up and where I graduated from  high school. I have always loved the Cardinals, the WJC Cardinals and the bird. While the male is a vibrant red (and I think that's where the Catholic cardinals got their name, with their brilliant red robes) while the female cardinal is a beautiful tawny browny/light green with orange accents. She too is beautiful...while not as flashy as her hubby, she has an understated elegance.

Daddy was just a little guy when he started going to St. Louis Card games in the 1920's. He and his friends, not having much in the way of pocket money, used to travel by trolley car to the stadium and hang out outside the tall wooden fence, watching the game through the knotholes in the planks.

Sooner or later, the Cardinal marketing folks got the clever idea of starting a club called "the Knothole Gang". For a fraction of the price of regular seats (and presumably wherever there were empty seats going begging), St. Louis youngsters would be admitted to the stadium and see the whole game, not just a 2-inch view. Thus, Daddy became a founding member of the "Knothole Gang" with all the rights and privileges thereto.

Years later, somehow, the St. Louis organization tracked him down in Arkansas and honored him as a founding member, and as they were moving stadiums, with an etched brick in the concourse around the stadium. He got a plaque and everything.

So for his entire life, Daddy was the ultimate Cardinal fan, both for his hometeam and for his college team.

The St. Louis Cardinals made the playoffs while I was a student in high school there and played the Detroit Tigers in the World Series. The PA system was sync'd with the radio commentary and we would mightily strive to concentrate on Honors English or World Civ as we listened with one ear to the game. If you took your ticket stubs to the office, you could even get an excused absence, which was a BIG DEAL. Unfortunately, the Tigers were ultimately victorious, although I have always claimed that it was rigged...we were robbed, robbed I tell you.

For years, Daddy had a statue of a cardinal in his garden and I inherited it, along with a graceful mourning dove. To this day, the cardinal watches over my shade garden. So it was with a great deal of pleasure that I had cardinal gangs all winter and they hung around through the spring. Cardinals are very territorial during mating season, but during the winter, they 'gang' together for protection and warmth.

I once got a cardinal stuck in my house. He flew frantically around, banging against the skylights in my great room, seeing sky and not able to get through to it. I have a little device designed for birders which has birdcalls on it. I opened all the windows and doors, stood outside and hit the button for "cardinal call". He came out in a hurry, sure that an interloper had come to scavage his territory.

When I'm gardening, I sometimes talk to Daddy. He was a fabulous gardener and until his later years when he wasn't able to garden anymore, his garden was the talk of the town. There were people at his funeral who said, "I used to drive out of my way to drive by Carl's garden." So today, as I was sitting on my deck and missing my Daddy, I whispered to the male cardinal who lit a mere 10 feet from me, "Are you my Daddy?" His reply was to hop another 2 feet towards me.

I am blessed.