Diary of My Country Life-September 6th, 2025

The original source of this blog: https://www.lotusandmichael.com/blogs/diary-of-my-country-life

09/06/2025 Saturday 70-88F Mostly Sunny

It’s September, time to plant garlic. To me, the reason I plant garlic because I like garlic bolt (the green leafy part) which is good for braising, stir-fry, and soup—just simply slice the leaves, then cook several minutes in the pot with basically whatever you want. The heat in the pot or of the boiling water will kill the garlicy taste so you can just enjoy the flavor without worrying about the smell. In addition, deer and groundhog never touch garlic so it’s safe in the garden.

Yesterday I separated six fresh garlic bulbs and got fifty-one nice sized garlic cloves. I planted them in five rows, each row ten cloves. Usually it would take a while for them to sprout, and my garlic did not seem to grow well in the past—their growing situation made me feel that they were just trying to survive. But anyway, I planted them every fall and most of the time I forgot to harvest and consume them.

This year I did something a little extra to my garlic—I built a small fence around the patch, so we won’t step on them when we water our ginger and loofah plants. The fence is very simple, just eight bamboo sticks tied together. However, it’s my first try and I think it looks cute in my little vegetable bed.

Now, I am sitting on West State Street of Doylestown, Pennsylvania. There is an Art Festival here this weekend. Booths are set up early in the morning; the streets are packed with people, and more are coming. My paintings are displaying in a corner of a courtyard where hostas are still holding up their spent spikes high and a cluster of tea rose bush is sending out its subtle fragrance. Ivy is crawling on the ground and wall. It is sunny and breezy, a nice day. Sitting under a changing-colored tree at a table, typing these words, I wish more customers would visit this little courtyard hidden behind other booths. 

Starting from ten o’clock in the morning, quite a few people come to visit our courtyard and the shop. Several customers show a great interest in my paintings—the most popular one is “Monet” of that great painter standing on his Japanese bridge over his waterlily pond; next is “Encounter with Beauty”, in which my husband is pushing a bicycle standing under a blooming Sakura tree. But due to price issue, which is very tricky, eventually the deals are not made. 

On one hand, I would like to sell my paintings, evidence to show that other than myself, my paintings are also liked and appreciated very much by others, they have commercial value; while on the other hand, since I am the painter, every painting of mine is like my child. I love all of them, though I know some ones have flaws in my eye, but I still want to marry them well. 

I give price to my paintings based on how much time and efforts I spent on painting them. A small painting might have taken me more time than a bigger one; and a more colorful painting perhaps is much easier to paint than a simple-colored one. Especially because I like to layer up my paintings, which is my painting style, so it’s very common to find four or more layers of colors in my final work. To me, during my painting process, it seems to take forever for the paints to dry; I have to suppress my eagerness and wait, wait, wait. Sometimes I woke up during the night and thought of the painting I was working on. If something haunted me, like if some details I did on my painting weren’t good enough, I would toss around sleeplessly, until I got up, lit the light and corrected them. I always dream about that one day I can paint a perfect, flawless painting (of course in my eye 😅), but certainly that day hasn’t come yet.

So it’s a bid—I know the efforts I made, so I set a price; while customers also have their budget, how much they would like to pay, which always depends on how much they like it, how rare it is in the market, and where they make the purchase. As a customer myself all the time, I fully understand.

No deal is no deal, I don’t feel bad about it. I came to this festival to meet people, to talk to them, to find what they like, and I enjoy this beautiful weather, the aromatic courtyard, and so many other artists!

Also, I get inspirations. The lady who likes my “Monet” painting asks: “Do you have any prints of this painting? I like it a lot and would love to have one.”

Well, at this moment I don’t have; basically I have nothing but just several naked paintings, but I can guarantee that next time there will be prints in photo frame for every painting of mine.

I have made my plan: I enjoy being in the market, so even though this kind of festival is only held once a year, I can attend other places at weekends like the flea market I usually go to- that should be an ideal place for me for now.

In the past few days, I visited some galleries located in several little towns along the Delaware River and in Bucks County PA—Lambertville, New Hope, Yardley, Frenchtown, and plus Doylestown. I love these little towns, they are clean, with lovely views, and people are very nice which you can tell from their smiles. I had been to Lambertville twice before this gallery visit. The first time was last summer when the workers were working on re-finishing our floor. We spent one day and night there. The hotel was renovated from an old rail station, every detail of it was just tasteful and authentic. When I entered the room, a beautiful wooden desk placed in front of the serene-view window immediately blew me away and made me feel so much like home (it’s my habit to have a desk at the window where I can rest my eyes). I then stood by the desk and looked out of the window. Right at that time, a large heron flew over the creak from one side to the other and landed behind a cluster of grass and several rocks. I still could see its long legs standing in the shallow water, but not more the top part of its body.

It seems that I like to end my writings abruptly, so will do this time 😂. My husband asked me several times before:” Why not give your story a proper end? One short paragraph, or even just one sentence will work.”

“Why should I?” I asked back with a smile, “To me, I finished my talk, that’s it. It’s not a must that every episode should draw a conclusion of some sort.”