Sandpiper Island (The Bachelors
Page 30
If you’d like to watch the antics of the nesting puffin population on Seal Island, www.explore.org has live cams on the island every summer. Fair warning, you will fall in love with these little clowns of the sea!
Create Your Own Indoor Miniature Water Garden
In Sandpiper Island, Ford Maddox has created an entire world centered around the concept of sustainable living, surrounded by nature, deep in the forest, on the outer reaches of Pelican Bay.
Here’s an easy way you can bring a little bit of the grandeur of the great outdoors indoors, to enjoy all year round. And you don’t have to move to an island tree house to do it! (Although that would be pretty cool!)
Did you know that almost any plant cutting can be grown indoors, rooted in water? You can root coleus, spider plants, a variety of herbs, even African violets!
1. Containers. First comes the fun of choosing your containers. From tiny apothecary jars to old vintage teapots, the possibilities are endless. For some, the view of the root system dangling in the water is part of the beauty of the garden, and for others, the greenery that grows above water level is what their garden is all about. So when choosing your water garden vessels, you need to decide on whether you want them to be transparent (where you can see the roots) or opaque (where you’ll only see what’s above the surface). Or you can be like me and put together a variety of both.
2. Location. What kind of vessels you choose may also be determined by where you plan on locating your garden. A windowsill is perfect for a mini water garden, with vintage jam jars, drinking glasses, those apothecary jars I mentioned, or even antique teacups (yes, teacups will work!). You can also choose a larger container, maybe an old china teapot or goldfish bowl, and make it a centerpiece on a coffee table, or something unique that would sit on a mantelpiece, bookcase, or desk. Again, the possibilities are endless. Just make sure there is sunlight (natural or manmade), and that your plant is not exposed to extreme heat or cold. If an object will hold water, you can use it as a water garden container. (Hint: Flea markets make for excellent rummaging for water garden containers!)
3. Prepping your container. Make sure you clean your chosen container well, using a water-bleach solution made up of 10 percent bleach, just to make sure it’s free of contaminants. If you are using a container made of metal, concrete, or something with an unfinished interior, you may need to use a water sealant, or leach out the lime first.
4. Choosing your plants. Simple! Take cuttings from your outdoor plants at the end of a season, or maybe you’ve been admiring your best pal’s herb garden, or your neighbor’s violets (ask first, of course). Snip off a 4” to 5” section of the plant at a clean angle, just below the leaf set, making sure there is another leaf set left above that one. The healthier the plant, the better the chances of successful water rooting. And your snippet should not be flowering. Also, make certain your cutting tool has also been well cleaned before snipping.
5. Setting up your garden. Fill your container 2/3 to 3/4 full of water. You can use tap water, but it must sit uncovered for 24 hours so that the chlorine, fluoride, and other treatment chemicals have time to evaporate. There are also water purifier tablets you can use as well, or get distilled water. I just fill a clean pitcher with tap water the day before setting up a new container.
6. Adding your plants. Make sure there is no soil clinging to your plant anywhere. Carefully pinch off the leaves from the bottom leaf set only. This creates a long enough stem to dangle underwater. Only put the stem in the water, leaving the leaves on the next leaf grouping to rest on the lip of the container, or hang over the side. If your snipping is too delicate for this, you can also tie four bamboo skewers to create a small square, and then set it over the opening of your container, making the center square small enough so that it provides that “lip” you need. Trim the ends of the skewers so they only extend an inch or two past the edge of the actual container. Tie with decorative twine or string. Simply slip the snipping end through the square opening until it’s in the water. You can also put more than one clipping into the same container.
7. Don’t have plants to clip? You can purchase any small potted seedling, or start your seed in a small pot of soil and grow to seedling size. Gently remove the plant from the soil, shake and rinse off all soil from the root system (using distilled tap water), then immerse the root system into your prepared water container. Instant floating root plant!
8. Watch your garden grow. Most plants do best in a bright sunny location. Make sure it’s not subjected to extreme heat or cold. Replace the water as it evaporates and change it completely if it gets cloudy. You can go longer if your vessel is opaque. Make sure the refill water has also been distilled. I fill old milk jugs—clean them first!—with tap water, let them sit open for 24 hours, then cap. Keep your distilled water jugs at room temperature so as not to shock the root system when added. If the roots get mushy or rot, discard, clean the container thoroughly, and start again. You can pot your water root plants in soil and put outside in the spring . . . or simply move them to a bigger container and continue to enjoy all year long.
Go to www.kensingtonbooks.com and enter “Donna Kauffman” in the search box for printable directions that include photos of my own water garden! Happy rooting!
If you’ve enjoyed the Bachelors of Blueberry Cove, you won’t want to miss the brides. Read on for a sample of Sea Glass Sunrise, coming in June, 2015.
So, there was going to be a June wedding after all. Only it wouldn’t be Hannah McRae in a gorgeous white dress, walking down the aisle.
No, she’d be in swathed in wildflower blue. Or spring leaf green. Or dandelion yellow. Or some other color found only in nature and bridesmaid dresses.
Hannah didn’t slow down as she passed the colorful, hand-painted sign welcoming her to Blueberry Cove, Maine. Founded in 1715. Population 303. “Make that three hundred and four,” she murmured, still undecided on when she was going to share that little tidbit with the rest of her family.
She should be happy for her big brother and his impending nuptials. And she was happy. Truly. Logan deserved all the love and fulfillment in the world and she was thrilled he’d finally found it. Alex MacFarland had gotten herself a good guy. Probably the last remaining good guy on the planet.
Not that Hannah was biased or anything. Or cynical, for that matter. Okay, so maybe she was a little cynical. All right, more than a little. Who could blame her after the year she’d had?
Hannah wove through the narrow streets of her hometown on autopilot, too distracted by her thoughts to soak up the welcoming sense of belonging, the unconditional love she always felt simply entering the Cove. She’d driven twelve straight hours fueled solely by the promise of that much-needed hometown group hug. Well, the hug and the king-sized bag of chocolate-covered pretzels presently tucked in her lap.
She dug in for another fix. They’d been an impulse buy when she’d filled her tank before heading out of Virginia. She couldn’t even say why. She hated salty and sweet together. Of course, she’d also hated finding out the guy she’d been giddily anticipating a marriage proposal from at any second had already proposed to someone else. In fact, he’d not only proposed to someone else, he’d married her. Four years ago. Which meant Hannah had spent the previous eighteen months dating a married man. Eighteen freaking months! She was a trial attorney, for God’s sake. A damn good one. She earned her living by knowing when people were lying to her.
How could she not have known? How could she not have had at least some inkling of a suspicion long before Tim’s very petite, very blond, and exceedingly pregnant, sweet-faced wife stalked into Hannah’s office, in front of God and everyone—and by God she meant the senior partner of the firm himself, and by everyone, she meant, well, everyone—and announced, quite loudly, using language that could only be described as salty, just what Hannah could do to herself, and stop doing to her husband?
Yeah, Hannah thought, and shoved the pretzel back in the bag. She hated salty and sweet.
As the Rusty Puffin pub came into view, she felt a tug in her chest, and a knot form in her throat. She wanted nothing more than to pull in, run inside, and be immediately folded into one of her Uncle Fergus’s big bear hugs, but she couldn’t trust herself not to fall apart all over him. No way would she get out of there without telling him why she was a wreck, which would be as good as telling the entire town. Instead she whispered a silent I love you, knowing she’d see him soon enough at the rehearsal dinner, continuing on instead toward the coast road that would take her out to Pelican Point . . . and home.
She didn’t see the pickup truck until it was too late.
One second she was glancing over at the tall shoots of summer lupines, in all their purple, pink, and white stalks of glory, and—dammit—digging out another chocolate-covered pretzel, the next she was slamming her brakes and swerving to miss the tail end of the big, dark blue dually that was suddenly somehow passing right in front of her.
She missed the truck’s rear bumper by a hairbreadth, but the hand-painted sign on the far side of the intersection advertising Beanie’s Fat Quarters, “The best little quilt shop in Blueberry Cove!” wasn’t so lucky.
It all happened so fast, and yet each second seemed to be somehow elastic, as if she could live a lifetime inside every single heartbeat of the accident as she was swerving through it. So many thoughts went through her mind as she careened toward the sign she knew Beanie’s husband Carl had so proudly painted for his wife when she’d opened up her little shop, what, fifteen years ago now? Sixteen? Hannah had just graduated from high school. Carl had done the town sign, too, right in his adorable little potting shed-turned-art studio, touching the signs up like new every spring after the winter season did its number on them. And yes, okay, that made two good men, but Carl had gone to his great reward just last year, so that left Logan as the only one still breathing.
So many thoughts raced around inside Hannah’s brain in those weirdly elastic, terrifying, life-threatening seconds. The things she should have said to Tim during their final confrontation, that she should have told Logan and her sisters what happened, leaned on them instead of shouldering it alone, that maybe she should have tried harder to make her newfound notoriety in the Capitol Hill legal community work for her, that she still felt terribly guilty, hating that she’d ultimately caved, quit, and come running back home to the Cove with her humiliation tucked between her legs like the tail of failure and shame that it was.
Then Carl’s once-beautiful sign raced right up to the hood of her car and no amount of further wheel yanking and swerving was going to save her from smashing right into it. There was a small explosion as her air bag deployed, punching her in the face and chest, just as her shoulder harness jerked her tight against her seat back, yanking her thoughts instantly back to the present as she plowed straight into the stack of brightly colored, plaid quilting squares painted on the bottom corner of the sign. Sorry, Beanie, she thought inanely, along with shit, shit, shit! as she finally slid to a stop a mere speck of an inch before hitting the cluster of tall ash trees that stood just behind the sign.
She instinctively batted at the white, puffy bag, trying to keep it from smothering her, as she struggled to regain clarity of thought. Her head was buzzing from the adrenaline rush, her pulse was pounding in her ears, and her face hurt. A lot. So did her shoulder. Then the driver side door was being pulled open and there was a man crouching next to her. At least, given the deep voice, she assumed it was a man; she was still wrestling with the air bag.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice all deep and dark and smoky in that bass vibrato kind of way that sent shivers down a woman’s spine. Though, in all fairness, her ears were ringing from the impact and she was pretty sure shock was setting in, or should be, so it could have just been an aftereffect of the accident.
He effortlessly collapsed the air bag with one broad palm. “Whoa, whoa,” he added quickly, putting those broad, warm palms gently but firmly on her wrist and shoulder when she tried to wrestle off her seat belt. “Let’s make sure you’re okay before you move too much, all right? Just sit tight for a moment.”
She wanted to be the cool, competent, in control—always in control—attorney she was. Not the exhausted, injured, bordering on hysterical idiot who stupidly and blindly dated married men, yet still got the shivers over a smoky, hot, sex voice. Sadly, the latter was the best she had to offer at the moment. “What . . . happened?” she managed, her voice sounding oddly tight, bordering on shrill. “Where did you come from?”
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2014 Donna Kauffman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
KENSINGTON and the k logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-9281-0
First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: September 2014
First Electronic Edition: September 2014
ISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9282-7
ISBN-10: 0-7582-9282-1