It's springtime at The House Where The Black Cat Lives, and I am in a mood francais -- but then when am I not?
Inspired by the blue doors and red geraniums of Paris, I gave the garage a long-overdue mini-makeover, well at least on the outside. The inside is a whole 'nother matter.
I really enjoy a glass of wine in the evening under the red market umbrella at the bistro table -- until the no see 'ems cruelly remind me that this is South Mississippi, not the South of France after all.
Last year's attempts at a Mississippi style vegetable garden produced less than stellar results, so this year I just put in a small herb garden and a stairstep container garden of tender lettuces, basil and marigolds -- again inspired by the windowbox and balcony potager gardens of Paris. The air is redolent of rosemary and lavender.
And what's a garden without a quirky statue? Monsieur Frog is a Katrina survivor. The obliging recovery crew spray-painted him acid green and left him by my mailbox in Bay St. Louis. Now restored to his original color, he holds court next to the lavender, mint and oregano. The lizards love to sun on him.
Having watched "Chocolat" yet AGAIN, I'm dreaming of putting a vine-draped arbor in my side yard where I can throw rustic dinner parties by candlelight -- something like the one in the May edition of Southern Living. I wonder how long it will take for the vines to get all drapey, lush and secretive. As with a haircut, I can handle the before and the after -- it's the in-between stage I dread. I do not have a green thumb.
As for the dinner party, I think this one will do, don't you?
You're all invited, of course.