Friday, February 23, 2018

One Hat Secret Every Gardener Should Know

Since the start of my competitive tennis days, ages 11-17, I've worn hats.  Back then it was the canvas tennis hat or terry.  Along with cotton footies swinging their colored balls at the back ankle, always wearing a white tennis dress flashing a bit of ruffled panty, with a mere hint of color. Colored tennis dresses had just come into style, of course I wore only white.
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Moving forward to the start of my Garden Design career, again hats.  Wide or extra wide broad brim straw hats, along with a few quite dashing wide brim fabric hats for winter. 
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If you look in my little work van, you'll find measuring wheel, drawing board, Wellies, measuring tape, flags, florescent string, pencils/erasers, paper, and a straw farmers hat, hanging by a vintage wide silk ribbon.  That farmers hat is the emergency hat.  Perfect for sun,  strong wind, or a few wet sprinkles, and I've forgotten to bring a well chosen hat.


Pic, above, here.
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Decades pass, rather an expert on hat styles, use. 
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 The Rancher by Stetson is a classic straw cowboy hat. It has the tallest crown of all the Stetson straw cowboy hats at 5 inches. Available up to size 8. This 10X Straw hat has a 4 inch brim.   	 		 			 				 					Famous Words of Inspiration...""A book of quotations, can never be...
Pic, above, here.
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"The Rancher by Stetson is a classic straw cowboy hat. It has the tallest crown of all the Stetson straw cowboy hats at 5 inches. Available up to size 8. This 10X Straw hat has a 4 inch brim. Famous Words of Inspiration...""A book of quotations, can never be..."
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Leaving town after my father's funeral, heading to the back door with my luggage, mom asks, "Do you want your daddy's hat?"
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Dad's straw, stained gardening Stetson still resting where he last placed it.  Where he always placed it, for decades.  On the patio table, at the back porch, by the windows where we have eaten breakfast-lunch-dinner since 1966.  Of course I wanted it.  Rolling my suitcase, I grabbed dad's Stetson, plopped it on my head.
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Reaching the Delta gate, about 10pm, there was a delay with the flight.  Still wearing that Stetson, standing in front of the gate agent, asking about my flight, the tears flowed, I couldn't take one more thing.  Just had to get home.  Through the tears, "My dad just died, and I've got to get home."
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The gate agent walked around her desk, and full body hugged me, and began crying with me.  Telling me she has lost her father too.  Both of us, tears drenching our faces, dripping onto our clothes. 
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Good news, the flight delay wasn't long.  Once on the plane, obvious the gate agent had upgraded my seat.  Bless her for that, and her crying hug.
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Don't remember how many days I was home before I went into a garden, client's or my own, can't remember, and grabbed dad's Stetson.
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More than wearing dad's Stetson, I got an education about hats.  I had been wearing the wrong hats for my entire Garden Design career.  Wide brim straw hat keeping sun off was my hunt.  Dad's Stetson took it to a new level.  Wide brim of the Stetson is curved up slightly.  Providing shade, with clear eyesight lines through out a garden.  Literally, upon discovery, I heard Jed Clampett, "Well, doggies."
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Stetson, above, is the style I inherited.  Have since bought another, love them.  Both, on the hall tree at the front door.
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Get you one !!
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Garden & Be Well,   XO T

4 comments:

Penelope Bianchi said...

I will! Thank you! There will be lots of walking about planning the new garden! 30 tons of mud will be removed....we are keeping some!

Making the pond bigger; extending the lower slope to the left to flatten out to make a meadow....

We will make a better garden......I just have to live long enough to see it flourish! I turned 71 today!

XXOO

Brenda Coffee said...

I have my late husband's Stetson... Only thing he wore when he trimmed trees, built fences on the ranch. I also have his father's well worn, sweat stained felt hat with an arrowhead tucked into the band and two rattlesnake tails attached to the crown. That one's priceless.

Christine B. said...

What a lovely post, Tara. When I remember my late father, I picture him in his (somewhat ridiculous) trapper hat made of beaver. He changed my tire wearing that hat one cold January day and I'll never forget the image of his smiling face under a good many inches of fur atop his bald head.

Christine in Alaska, missing dad and his hat

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