Muggy Monday

I think this might be my favorite of all the dianthus (although each strain has qualities that make it special. Joe, I promise, I'm gonna get my nose down into them in the next day or so now that so many of them are coming on strong, in order to report on fragrances, if any!). There's just something about the maroon fringing and red patterns, and those tiny white stamens. Plus it seems to be one of the hardest to photograph, so maybe I like the challenge.

It stayed rather warm in the overnight and I slept on the couch in front of a fan not far from the computer...Badum curling up nearby, but discouraged from his usual cuddling nature by the heat.

By 8:00 a.m., it was already in the low eighties, so that first cup of coffee was a bit hurried so I could make sure everyone was well hydrated out there by the fence.

This morning, before I could do that, I also spread out some of my favorite fertilizer, the delightfully named Cock-A-Doodle-Doo (amusingly enough, I always think it ends with Poo, leading me to regularly be corrected by nursery staff), which is, essentially, chicken sh*t in pellet form. I suppose I ought to have worked some of this into the garden soil earlier in the season, but it took me a while to track it down.

I'd only ever seen it in milk carton-sized packages, so you can imagine my surprise when the nursery only had the big bag of the stuff. It was on sale, though, so certainly more economical than the smaller containers, which I'd probably have needed a bunch of, anyway.

Anyway, every part of the front gardens got a decent top coat of the pellets, and then a nice solid watering to help them start to break down into the soil. When I get around to weeding again (after the heat breaks, I imagine...), I'll work it in. With so many seedlings coming up though, it will be careful work when I can devote the quality time to the task.

The blue/ purple Siberian iris was seriously nibbled a couple of weeks back, and I hadn't expected there'd be more to that story this season, since irises (except the new reblooming hybrids I've only read about in catalogs) are generally a one-and-done flower. However, it seems the nibbling stopped short of whatever it was the plant needed to thrust up this single flower, which appeared this morning.

This photo will enlarge, if you're inclined to click it. This clump of pink dianthus is blooming quite merrily, as you can see. Also of note here is the agastache seedling beside/behind the marigolds to the lower left, which is all that remains of a once large plant, a sideshoot rescued when the larger plant died off.

The grasses are all shooting up nicely, as the tulips' foliage continues to fade out. This is the downside of tulips: you have to leave the foliage once the flowers have faded, as the leaves are the plant's solar panels, collecting the sun's energy and storing it in the bulb for next year's show. The trick is to plant them near things that distract the eye or grow tall to conceal the fading foliage.

At the feet of the dianthus, to the right (and also one dead center on its own), you'll find a tiny forest of allyssum seedlings about to begin blooming.

Here's one of the chrys anthe mum's, which I've been regularly pinching out the center leaves of, to encourage branching and more flowers for the garden's final autumn moments. There's a little marigold foliage coming into the image from the right...but let me call your attention to the branchy little seedling right beside the mum. That's a cosmos seedling, but it's not anywhere near the seashell cosmos seeds I put out.

I suspect that this is a seedling self-sown in last year's garden, which hitched a ride with the mum during the move. I'll be keeping an eye on it to see if proof for my suspicions develops.

Meanwhile, here's the better foliage of the golden sage plant I promised. I'm a fan of the texture and the variegated patterns on the leaves of this plant, and in the past I've had them grow into little shrubs, if offered some mulch as winter protection. Plus, it's a tasty herb with chicken on the grill or sautee pan.

This pair of blackbirds flew in while I was filling the bird bath. I think that was their original destination until they spotted me.

They landed on the fence, and the female hopped from one side of the flag post to the other, a steady stream of chatter going between them, warbling noises that were liquid and musical and sounded like real talking.

After a few moments of this, they must have decided to visit another birdbath in the nieghborhood, or at least wait for me to leave, as they flew off right after I took this photo. I tried identifying them from my bird guide, but that suggests that they were Brewer's Blackbirds, which are actually found in the Great Plains states...or so the book tells me. (Patrick, do these look like birds you knew back home?) Weather patterns being what they are lately, I suppose it's not impossible for a pair of them to have found the coast...it just seems more likely they are something more local, misidentified.

IDing is often a tricky business. I only got this brief look at them, which can make matching the memory against images in the book a little tricky. Birds fascinate me so that I have to actually remind myself while gazing at them to make note of particular characteristics so I'll remember them later. The photo helps, but I wish the male (to the left) was a little clearer.

Is it any wonder why I let my mind wander into the garden these days...or that I tried to save money by growing so many things from seed this year? I hadn't been to the gas station in about a week...and while I've heard the news of the latest price hikes on radio and television, this was a still a bit painful.

The President doesn't think it's a problem, so I guess I'll just suck it up. But don't you wish he had to pump his own gas and buy groceries, too?

Fortunately, the garden at work had much to soothe me with, as the afternoon heat began to fade a bit. These yellow daylilies always put on a nice show--they are a different variety from the yellow ones currently in bloom at home.

These old fashioned English roses are just amazing to me. I think they are David Austin hybrids. (I've just requested a catalog so I can drool at my leisure.) Not only are the flowers visually magnificent (and they come more or less all summer long), but their fragrances are absolutely delicious and intoxicating. It's nice to know there are still many roses being bred with concern for form and fragrance.

Someday, when I'm done moving around and finally got my bit of earth, I shall have several of these, to ogle and coddle(though they seem pretty hardy, based on the minimal care they get at the restaurant garden)...probably one of each of these, to start. Then just the ones that are named for various characters from Shakespeares works, although that'd limit me to only about fourteen. Do check out Heavenly Rosalind.


Really, though, the best news of the day came when I realized that the first of the great (by which I mean quite large, easily bigger than my fist) dark purple irises had begun to bloom. There's a number of other flower stalks with deep purple/black buds to follow, but today there was just this one, perfect specimen.

I did get my nose right in there, and didn't notice any particular fragrance, just that quiet green smell that so many plants have.

It sure was catching the light well, though I think it was less blue in reality than appears here, owing to the angle of the late afternoon sun. The truer colors come in the places where the petals are lit from behind, I think. I'll take more photos as their blooming continues.

It's cooled off this evening again, down to a comfortable 66 degrees. The fans are still pleasant, though...and tomorrow they promise we'll finally pass the 90 degree mark, a rarity around here.

May Makes Way For June

Wahoo!

Another lily emerges this morning, at the feet of a clump of nibbled crocus foliage.


So reports of their death, as they say, were premature.

On a similar note, they say the cicadas are still going to grace us with their presence this spring, though no sign of them has yet appeared around this end of the Cape. They say a lot, as it turns out.

Meanwhile, the dianthus are starting to bloom. Most of these were new nursery plants last spring, so they are big healthy spreading clumps now. A few are a couple of years old. I just love a little plant that is inexpensive, spreads itself around and blooms more or less all season long.

It had been predicted it would rain all day for us today, so it was a surprise to wake up and find a, well, not exactly sunny morning, but certainly not a rainy one.

This gave me the chance to get some tall marigold seedlings (the varieties are tall, the seedlings are about three inches high just now...) planted along the fence.

There's two kinds: the ones on the roadside are all yellow, and from the tiny picture on their nursery tag, they appear to be single-flowered...or at least only partly double.

The other kind is a mix of orange and yellow and will feature the fully double, pom-pom marigold flowers. Those are on the house side of the fence.

I love these tall varieties; they really help to fill out the garden as the summer wears on and various other plants' bloom times come and go. I tried to be sure and stagger them, so they weren't planted directly opposite one another across the fence.

I've also now identified the best spots for the tomato plants. They are doing well in the bedroom window and getting rather tall and strong. This is fine with me, as I'll carefully pinch off the lower branches and plant them deep, so they develop a good strong root system along the buried part of the stem. This should give them a strong footing against the wind that seems to prevail on our street...and of course, they'll be well-staked, too.

Of course, it will be a day or two still before those get into the ground, but I'm not worried about them.


The rest of the day was spent at work, but I did find a few moments late in the afternoon (just before it did finally begin to rain) to nip off to the garden for a look at what was blooming there.

The siberian irises are going full strength now. Most are the white variety, which make a great background for those purple bearded irises. The blue ones are a little taller than the white, so they'll really create a nice drift of color as they grown around one another.

Divisions of each of these and also a purple variety from the meadow live in our border at home, but they also seem to have suffered from nibbling.

Nestled amongst some evergreens, this rose's first bud is a pearl about to unfurl.

Spring Things

Today was a gorgeous day. Bright and sunny, with temperatures hovering around 57. The steady breezes of earlier in the week seem to have abated some.

At work, in fact, we're making a spring transition. As the days warm up, we don't need to turn the heat on before guests arrive and sometimes even prop a door to outside open once they do. Before long, though, we'll be relying on the AC to keep things comfortable. For now, these days are lovely.

Out in the garden there, these German bearded irises are blooming and how could I resist offering them as the latest entry in the 2008 Spring Purple Parade?

On another front, I've been a little remiss in sharing with you. About two weeks ago I made a video clip of one of my favorite things about this time of year: the spring peeper.

Living in the Adirondacks, the sound of these tree frogs was my annual indicator that spring truly was upon us, as their song usually coincides with the warmer rains and nights of a certain temperature (usually around 50F is when it starts). Generally, it was a song that you'd hear momentarily, as you drove or walked past some vernal pond or wetland area.

At our last place, in Eastham, we were living right on the pond and so we had the chance to get to know them a little up close and personal. They would find their way from the big natural pond up to our little plastic koi pond. On particularly rainy nights, we found them clinging to the sides of the house and the screen door.

Each spring there'd one frog who'd start. (The first link above includes recordings of the singular call, as well as the sound of the masses) He'd sing for a night or two, tentatively at first and then more decisively, as others began to emerge and add their calls to his song...and before long, a delightful natural cacophony that's part car alarm and part the sound of alien spaceships in the 60s, but at a distance often mistaken for crickets.

We found they would sing on and off throughout the summer, unless it was too hot or too cold. During the height of their spring emergence, they can be quite loud. We discovered during those times it was almost impossible to talk on the phone outside, or near an open window.

They're easier to track down when there's only one or two singing. When they're all doing their thing, it's crazy-making to try. You won't see any on this clip, but click on the "peeper" tag below and you'll find some photos from previous years.

I miss living so near to them this year; I'd grown accustomed to them. Now I'm back to only hearing them as I drive by or distantly while I'm out walking with Em in the evening. So when I found this pond not far from work, how could I resist capturing it?

With no further adieu, I present the spring peepers: