Don't worry, I won't be tickling anyone's under there at any point in this post, but I have been going round and round the garden a lot lately playing match-maker with my Daylilies ... In fact, I think I'm down to the last few days of this love connection before one of my flower beds turns into a full blown maternity ward. For my fellow flower pervs out there, I've been spending my time cross pollinating the deepest bordeaux red petal, and chartreuse throated Pardon Me, with Nashville Star (I believe?) which fluctuates between a gorgeous oxblood red to sparkling rusty orange with a vibrant golden throat. The latter I acquired from my dad several years ago ... I was down for a visit on a weekend he was loading up to head South for the Winter (it must've been the same weekend I got the chicken wire and bird bath stand that I turned into a mannequin, boy that really was a while ago!). Anyway, he was offloading a bunch of stuff and on his final mosey as he passed the corner of his shop he picked up this sad little plastic pot that housed what looked to be Cousin It's little sister ... "Think you can do anything with this?"
