Diane Again: Roses And Ivy

On this sunny Sunday afternoon, as I sat on my front patio watching Grace tuck into her post-walk dinner bowl with her usual gusto, I radiated in the glow of accomplishment.

Because on this very day, I finished a project that I started literally three years ago.

Could've been four. Or possibly even five. After all this time, it's hard to recall the exact moment when the seed of an idea was planted.

But there was a day when I stood in Sky Nursery looking at the outdoor macrame plant holders and thought, Hey maybe a row of hanging pots would be just the ticket for that hard-to-grow west side of my house.

Though my macrame chops were purely undeveloped at that point, I took great confidence in my ability to make said plant holders. Just to be on the safe side, I decided to buy one to use as a prototype. So I invested twenty bucks in my brand new idea, took the hanger home, and hung it up - empty - on a nail already positioned in more or less the right place.

Aaaand....that's all.

For three, four, maybe five years, that empty macrame plant hanger hung there on that sad little nail, flimsy and forlorn, while I tackled other, more urgent projects in the same area.

This summer, however, the winds of change finally blew in the right direction.

Emboldened by my other knot-tying projects and ready to bring some closure to my west side story, I finally got busy.

And now, on this full and rich late August day, I have brought my project to fruition.

As Gracie licked the last few crumbs from the bottom of her bowl, I grabbed my camera and slipped off around the corner to grab a few photos. I must confess that my pink rosebush sidetracked me.

Correction. It's not exactly pink. the color of this rose is delicate and dynamic, shifting as it blooms from pale yellow to tips of pink to a soft apricot blush. The colors are pure heaven, and as I walked by, I could not help but take a moment to capture the late summer blossoms .

Soon enough, I drowned myself in the roses' glory, and resuscitated myself to regain control of my mission.

Oh, right. The hanging pots.

There are five of them in all. They hang from the ends of my rafters along this narrow walkway, filling in the spaces above tiny gardens of ground cover, along my pallet walkway.

Each hanger holds a pot of ivy. In time, the graceful green leaves will spill down in long tendrils, poetic and self-contained and quite unlike the invasive vines I once grew to monstrous proportions along this same space. Never again will I plant such villainous beasts in the ground again, but safely confined to terra cotta, I welcome the ivy back.

Each ivy is a slightly different variety, and each planter is a different design. This first one is the original I bought at Sky oh, so many years ago, and I must say, it has weathered nicely.

The other four I made from various cords and twine that I already had on hand. I milled about online looking at various patterns. Since these bad boys will be spending their lives out in the elements, I figured it made sense to keep the designs simple and replace them from time to time, if they get to looking shabby. No need to get overly fussy. So I mixed up my repertoire of basic knots and improvised with wild abandon. My favorite kind of project.

As I have boastfully explained to my husband more than once (more than twice), I spent almost nothing on this project.

Already had all the cording supplies on hand.

Same for the pots.

I used up my ever-present supply of potting soil, so I spent ten dollars on a new bag.

I bought the ivy for a total of twenty two dollars.

And the cost of that original model was around twenty dollars as well.

The knots were free.

Spinning gold from straw - also my favorite kind of project.

I was just about to photograph the fifth model when I heard the familiar sound of footsteps along the path beside the rose bush, slipping up behind me.