It began with the bad kittehs knocking over the blue bottle with roses in it. I heard a noise in the living room and hurried to investigate.
Water was flooding the leather desktop of my secretary and dripping onto the little Chinese rug in the floor. A few feet away lay two bad kittehs, watching with what I can only describe as detached interest.
So, realizing that flowers on the desk were out of the question for the foreseeable future, I put the bottle in the kitchen and went outside to do a little weeding.
Then I noticed the pot containing the skeleton of a calamondin tree that had died a slow death back in the spring. I hadn't tossed it, hoping that perhaps the roots weren't dead and it would make a comeback. I'm a botanical optimist but now, on close examination, I had to admit that the tree seemed to be, in the local idiom, dead as a hammer.
Something clicked.
I've always wanted a bottle tree and now I had the makings for one.
Bottle trees used to be common in the rural South as yard decoration and as protection against evil. There's a fascinating web site HERE with lots of interesting information as well as some great pictures of all sorts of bottle trees and yard glass -- Chilhuly glass even!
My little tree is maxed out -- no more branches to stick bottles on. Maybe this is a good thing...
Or maybe this is just the beginning -- I saw a great planter the other day, made out of an old tire and painted bright, shiny yellow . . .