Indianapolis Museum of Art Blog

As many people already know, I am not a card carrying member of the We Should Only Plant Natives Club. They are fine and all that but I feel no great need to adhere to such a restrictive policy. I do incorporate natives in my designs. We’ve used many natives and their cultivars in multiple areas in the gardens created after our expansion. Carex radiata can be found in the Overlook garden behind Deer Zink (along with Amelanchier), multiple cultivars of redbud are in the Garden for Everyone (along with the straight species – I guess the others would be the gay, lesbian, bi, and transgendered species?), and Echinacea is everywhere (along with Amsonia hubrictii – Arkansas bluestar).

There most certainly is a place for natives. I did a design recently for a neighborhood park and included them in it. They definitely cross my mind when I know there will be extreme cultivation issues such as sunny and dry, shady and dry, wet and anything, or most importantly, minimal maintenance after establishment. Of course if there is a non-native available that is just as tough and prettier I have no problem going with it. Pretty always wins. Remember high school? I attempt to follow the “right plant, right place” mantra ignoring the individual plant’s origin. I want plants from everywhere and damn near every plant no matter where it’s from. As Divine said in Pink Flamingos “Get it all cracker. Get it all”.

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It’s Friday the 13th. Oooooooooo. I’m so scared. If you want a history of why this day is considered bad go here. If you want to know why I don’t buy into the theory stay here. Black cat, you want to cross my path? Go right ahead. When you get to the other side I’ll give you a bowl of Friskees (Frisky!). I might even change your litter box. Ladder up ahead, I will walk right under you. Crack in the side walk, I will step on you. Then patch you so a stiletto heel won’t get mangled (To quote Karen from Will and Grace, “Kill one piece and the whole ensemble dies!”).

Personally I don’t think a date on the calendar brings bad luck. Frequently what appears to be bad luck is actually the result of bad judgment. When I rear ended the car in front of me many years ago it wasn’t bad luck. It was stupidity. Why did I take my foot off the brake at a red light? Maybe I was distracted by the Scotsman in the other bucket seat. When I don’t have a presentation ready and I have an article due and a blog to write - all on the same day, it isn’t bad luck. It’s procrastination (I almost said procastration. Entirely different. And as a general rule I am not but sometimes…..) We make much of our bad luck in my opinion. So on this day that is rife with superstition I’m looking at why this is a GOOD day.

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Well now. Who hasn’t screamed those words? Maybe at a parent that wouldn’t let you go out Friday, Saturday, and Sunday night?

“There’s nothing I could do Sunday night that I couldn’t have done Friday night and twice Saturday night. You’re ruining my life. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams.

Or maybe at a brother or sister that never brought the car back by 2 like they promised so you could go to the big away game. The bus left at 2:15 and they brought the car back at 2:45.

“You knew I needed the car by 2. You stayed late at Kathy’s just so I would miss the bus. I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams.

Or maybe at someone you spent 18 months dating thinking all was going well until one day instead of “I love” you it’s “I do love you, in my own way.”

“In your own way? What the hell is that supposed to mean? In your own way?! I gave up a spot on ‘So You Think I You Can Dance’ because you couldn’t stand to be apart. Why don’t you go love the grill of a big red truck in your own way? I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” Door slams. Hopefully on his snotty-assed nose.

Enough about people. What about plants? Read the rest of this entry »

I am ready. Ready to have my house back. Ready to throw everything out of our holding greenhouse. Ready to empty the root cellar. Ready to get on with Spring. By April the urge to throw every surviving plant in my house outside is all consuming. I’m tired of them demanding water (the sink is right there, get it yourself). I’m tired of leaves falling. I’m tired of the ones that just barely hang on so you give them more time but they never really do anything. I’m tired of them taking more than their rightful share of space. So when May arrives each day is marked off the calendar as we approach that most glorious day of all days – the day of frost-free weather.

People who do not garden fail to have even the slightest notion of how important that date is. This is the day when the dahlias can go in the ground. This is the day when the tomatoes can be planted. This is the day the houseplants can go out on the porch. THIS IS THE DAY WHEN WE GET OUR HOUSES BACK! For two months I’ve been fighting with the Enstetes in my laundry room for access to the dryer. I finally cut a leaf off one of them this week. At the same time I am so grateful that my two biggest are still alive and growing. They are actually pushing against the ceiling (say a little prayer for some of the smaller ones in the plant room). In just a few weeks their huge burgundy and green leaves will bring tropical splendor back to my yard. That’s one of them in the background of this picture.

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Get up on the dance floor and boogie til you just can’t boogie no more. No designer symbolizes the 70’s like Halston. Disco dresses, halter tops, beads, and sequins. Lots of Halston red. Niloo Imami-Paydar (IMA Curator of Textile and Fashion Arts) has put together quite a show of pieces from the early 70’s to the early 80’s for Simply Halston. Now this ain’t gonna be no high-brow fashion critique. I was asked for my opinion, and sister, that’s what yer gonna get. These days my idea of fashion is matching my favorite chicken with my favorite vintage shantung silk jacket. (Thanks to Brad Bell for the feathers and silk shot.)

But Halston, well he had a bit more going on. Bear in mind that like many of us he was a product of the Midwest – born in Iowa and raised in Evansville, Indiana. That’s in southern Indiana for those of you who think the state ends in Bloomington or Brown County. If you remember from my bio I was born and raised in southern Indiana so I have a certain extra amount of pride when one of our own does well in the big world. Read the rest of this entry »