by Anchor-of-My-Eye

 So, yeah, I got married.  In May, Andrew and I got hitched after just a few months of engagement—I've never been one to want to drag things out, and planning complex events is not something I have time for with the day job.  The wedding took place on the rooftop of the NoMad Hotel, and everyone we worked with at the hotel was really wonderful.  Sadie, Sadie, married lady!

After a lovely, long honeymoon in the British Virgin islands, we're back and enjoying a Brooklyn summer.  With lots of greenery inside and out.  Inside, we have some new spider plants and a huge money tree.  One of the thriving spider plants lives in the kitchen, right next to the sliding glass door in a West Elm planter.

Spider Plant.jpg

Outside, I've reworked both of our balcony spaces.  Previously, I had a bunch of hodge-podge planters, most of which drained into plastic dishes that sat underneath.  It was fine for a few years, but when I watered, there was always the chance that they'd overflow and water would drain onto my downstairs neighbor's balcony, or even onto passersby on the heavily trafficked street below. It was a pain and I always felt a little guilty about it, even though overflow was minimal.  It only takes a few times for people to look up at falling water and shout a string of expletives before one rethinks their gardening hobby.

Now I have almost all black planters—and they're closed on the bottom, so no drainage. The focus is really on the green plants now, rather than on colored planters.  And I can water without angering people, always a bonus.

2013 Garden One.jpg
2013 Garden Two.jpg
2013 Garden Three.jpg
2013 Garden Four.jpg
2013 Garden Five.jpg

In case you're wondering, that's four different peonies, eight different roses, a Rose of Sharon tree, a lilac tree, a few evergreens, some bamboo, some ferns, and assorted other flowers.  They're still ramping up to full summer florescence, but they're on their way.  

Even when it's too hot outside to have the sliding glass doors open, I still see the greenery from behind the scrim of our gauzy kitchen curtains. It's like an Impressionist painting I can enjoy every day while I'm pouring coffee or dishing up the dogs' breakfast.