Thanks For the Meme-ories

Remember the day around mid-July when I posted my response to a pair of memes here at the Midnight Garden? They were things I'd been tagged on and not addressed for a while, and it was a relief to know I'd taken care of that and could get back to the daily garden photos. Well, for a few minutes, anyway, until I learned I'd been newly tagged by my pal James over at Lost in the Landscape (whose completely different garden blog is another of those daily treasures the blogging world has to offer. Go look at the teasel.).

So, that meme was supposed to be 10 random things about me. I've already done a couple of those and there's the 100 List, too (though I suspect some of that may require revision in future months). James gave me permission (while simultaneously pointing out that the 100 list lacked a #26) to just do six or seven things, because of the meme-convergence.

I decided to go for eight, although you may find that each of the eight points contains more than just one random bit. Meanwhile, I wanted to do something to mix it up a bit, make it more interesting than just another list and so I dug around in some old photo albums to see what I could find. Please cue the Bob Hope theme music and we'll begin.

1) This is a dear old friend: the apple tree in our New Jersey back yard in whose arms I passed many a lazy summer day of my childhood...and thanks to the annual drop of crab apples, a few of those days were spent tidying up the yard, too. To the right of center, you can see two waterspout-y kind of limbs, which were just the right distance apart to serve as a sort of tree seat, where you could lounge with a small pile of comic books in your lap and read in the apple-scented breezes.

The fledgling garden photographer took this photo in May of 1979, just before we moved away to the Adirondacks of upstate New York. A close examination of recent Google Earth imagery suggests that some subsequent owners of the property have removed the tree and filled the tiny space with a swimming pool. The silly fools.

2) That same fledgling photographer took this picture of my Mom's tulips in that same yard, same year. Note how the tulips themselves are out of focus, but the lovely purple violets in the background are fairly clear. That still happens to me...all the time!

3) So we moved to the mountains, which was an interesting change. From a class of 300 in northern New Jersey, I now had 17 classmates, and we were the third-largest class in the history of the local K-12 school.

I'm grateful to have spent so many of my "formative" years in a place of such incomparable beauty and I'm happy to know I have so many friends there still, for when I want to visit in the future!

The town is called Long Lake, as it is situated to straddle the lake of the same name, which is fourteen miles long. Technically, though, the body of water is actually a widening of the Raquette River and thereby not a lake at all. But whatever.

Here's a view of it looking south from over the town beach. That's not the long end, but I forgot to scan that photo.

4) This next view shows the only intersection in Long Lake. No traffic lights there, although there is a yellow blinking light down by the lake, to remind people to turn instead of getting wet.

In the center, more or less, of this image, is the property we moved to, which included a small cottage colony for summer rentals...which also made life pretty interesting, at least between Memorial Day and Labor Day.

I've sketched in an arrow (tho thanks to the monitor issues here, I've no idea just what color that arrow is...) which indicates the site of the very first garden I ever really got to create and tend.

Of course, it didn't exist until we sold and moved some of those cottages.

By the way, these two photos were also taken in 1979, by the same young photog, during the only fifteen minutes of my life I have ever been aloft in an airplane.


4) Once those cottages were removed, there turned out to be more than enough space for a good long border garden in the corner of the property. In time, the garden looked like this. Here it is around 1995 or so.

It was my first real chance to play with something other than annuals. Of course, since it was USDA Zone 3, the choices were still somewhat limited.

A few of the perennials in this garden (the Shasta Daisies, the Garden Heliotrope and some tall garden phlox) are plants which made the move with me, eventually and still live.

They are now planted in the fence garden I feature here every day.

5) When I moved to Cape Cod and settled in Provincetown in 1997, I lived for a time in a second story apartment where there was no garden. However, there were gardens a-plenty all around and I enjoyed walking or biking about town to admire them all. This also gave me a little time to study just what it was possible to grow in this different climate, USDA Zone Coastal 7.

I did, however, use a stash of old theatrical lighting gels leftover from college and some black electrical tape to create this faux stained glass window in the apartment, which I still think was pretty damn cool.

Like so many of Life's most interesting things, it was very temporary, since I hadn't thought to create it on a piece of plexiglass or anything like that which I could actually have moved. Only this photo remains.


6) When we first made the acquaintance of Emily Grace, we weren't really sure of her age. But we knew she was incorrigible.

She was a wild, untrained dog of great strength and will who'd been to the pound three different times before our paths crossed hers. While our relationship was rocky at the start, to say the least, it was clear that she loved us for our devotion and faith in her.

This image is taken in early December 1998, just two months after she'd joined the household and is truly a moment frozen in time. The doggy bed pillow and "Santa's Helper" holiday scarf were two early-season gifts we gave her earlier that evening.

By the following morning, the pillow was a cloud of white fluffy filling which wafted about the living room.

By Christmas morning, three weeks later, she'd chewed all of the scarf she could reach so that, appropriately, only the letters "Santa's Hel" remained.

7) When Owen and I combined households earlier that year, we also combined gardens, as I added many of my floral friends from my Adirondack gardens to the beds he had already created in Eastham.

It was a lovely show the following summer and nicely symbolic of our new relationship. Which isn't to say that territorial issues about the garden didn't also crop up, as a result of the merging.

We ended up moving the following year, the first of many for us. Many of the plants came along for the ride, but a host of them remained behind. We can still enjoy some of their bloomings as we drive by our old homes each year. Just look at all those lilies.

8) In the summer of 2002, this pair of golden snapdragons in our Wellfleet garden made me cry one hot July morning, as they reminded me of the Twin Towers that had fallen in New York City the previous year and how the world around us was beginning to change.


** This isn't one of the eight points, but just to put this out there, it's now been fifteen days without one of those cigarette things. There's been a few surprise cravings this week, but nothing I couldn't work through.

The Nicodemon, you get him under your heel, but the little bastard is kind of like one of those gremlins in a horror movie that just won't quite die. Oh, but this one will...and quite horribly, too.

Heh heh heh....


As a bonus (but you all can decide if it really IS one or not), here's a fresh look at the Midnight Gardener, who in the heat of late July remembered he was the proud owner of a pithe helmet (just one of the spoils of a late-night raid on the costume store room of the fine arts building of my college way too many years ago.). Since he rarely remembers a hat in the hot sun, this was a good thing, stares from the neighbors aside.

I won't wax poetic or adventurous about hacking through the jungle that is the Weeds of Late July, as Jenn has recently done so to great effect over at Of Cabbages and Kings and I couldn't top that.

It was she who reminded me I had such a hat in my possession, though she knew it not. I also thank her for the chuckles she brings me each day with her humor writing. Laughter is the seasoning that makes so much of Life palatable, and we should just pour it on everything. Well, almost everything. No, Everything. Because good gods, Life is too short.

I'm tempted to tag a bunch of you, but it's no doubt a somewhat more complex meme now that I've added the component of having to scan old photographs, so I don't want to be the source of that burden. However, if you've got some old pics you wanna share and a few interesting things to say about them, well, I bet it'd be lots of fun to see what you come up with.

Hope it's a great weekend for you all!

Monday Things

The circle of life spins on. As the apple blossoms around back of the house burst into bloom, the orange tulips out front are finding ways to surprise as their beauty fades.

I think they are even lovelier as this yellow streaking becomes more prominent.

Another lovely day here on the Cape, though it was pretty windy out there in the sunshine. It took a number of shots to finally capture the right one of these lilacs. I found them in my friend Patience's yard, blooming just in time for her birthday tomorrow!

And the Purple Beat goes on.



The sunny but turbulent day brought some fantastic looking clouds to our blue sky this afternoon, drawing me down to the Rock Harbor Boat Launch for a nice clear look at them after work.

I didn't spot the Ferdinand cloud until I got home and looked at the pictures, though! Do you see him?


Meanwhile, back home in the garden, look at this cluster of Foxglove plants, keeping pace, height-wise with the nearby daylilies.

I'm excited that this is such a nice healthy plant, since I'm looking forward to it seeding itself around in this new garden, as it did back in Eastham. You just can't have too much digitalis.


Meanwhile, the morning glories in my bedroom window are growing ever larger, and should be finding themselves planted outside within the week. I'll need to get some string trellaces up for them post-haste, too, since they look more than ready to start climbing and twining!

Here's Emily appearing to be a good girl, as she encourages me to head out on our nightly stroll around the block.

She was patient enough as I put dinner together (that was about food, after all--tonight, chicken tenderloins baked with sweet potatoes and green beans, topped with a little cheddar cheese). But that seemed to wear a little thin when I turned my attention to cleaning the catbox. I'm sure she'd have appreciated the urgency there more, if she was sharing a bedroom with it, as I do. I love our gray dude, but sometimes he can be a stinky little guy.

Perhaps you're already thinking something's up, and if I mention that Em's poo this evening was a little less firm than it perhaps ought to have been, you might think ("Greg doesn't talk about this stuff...") you've been transported to another blog, perhaps the one by Tornwordo.

OK, so you caught me, it was all just a subtle little tribute to Mr. T. as he celebrates his third anniversary of bringing Crows that Stick to the internet each morning to go along with your morning coffee. Over at SC, things scatological and stinky are more likely! I'm sorry I haven't been visiting over there all three of those years, but there's always something interesting, amusing or otherwise thought-provoking.(And this kills me.)

The clouds are part of the celebration, too. Happy Three, Torn!

When we got home from that walk, I discovered there was indeed oriole frolicking going on in the apple tree. Miz O feasted her way through assorted sweet and tasty blossoms, while her boyfriend sang protectively from a branch a few feet above her.

Perhaps you are admiring the gauzey, almost Victorian painting quality of this photo...and maybe you are wondering what my secret is. And now I am forced to admit that you, too, can take such lovely photos, if the angle of the sun is right...and you don't wash your kitchen windows. (Despite the successful result here, I'll try to get those wiped clean sometime soon!)

And as we bring the day to a close, the Full Corn Planting Moon rises in the southeast. Gentlemen and ladies (and other ladies, and less gentle men), start your shovels and get out there and plant something!!

Hopes and Challenges

I spotted this snail outside the window yesterday morning, when I pulled back the curtain to check the weather. It wasn't raining yet, but the skies were the most promising they'd been all week.

I'm not entirely sure what this plant is the snail is enjoying so, but I have strong suspicions it may be some variety of honeysuckle. It's growing out of the bed of vinca which surrounds the feet of the tall arbor vitae by the gate to the backyard.

In the border, the columbine plants are joining the ranks of those who are beginning to sport tiny flower buds, giving me hope for the the days ahead.

And that lily I showed you earlier in the week has now double in height. Here's a second one which was out of the frame in the other shot...as well as a small cluster of leaves between them, which I'm pretty sure is a bit of that Oregano I brought from Eastham.

Behind the house, the apple blossoms have become to open and the oriole wasted no time in coming by to drink the nectar of those first flowers.

I didn't get to post last night, as we had a big night at work and I was a bit tired and uninterested in cyber-things when I got home. The late afternoon and evening had brought us a nice steady, but not heavy rain, which made me smile, since I'd been hoping for some all week.

In the earliest hours of the morning, there were a few rumbles of thunder and a single flash of lightning...and the rain grew a bit heavier. A comforting sound on the roof as one is drifting off to sleep...as long as you don't give too much thought to what else might be going on as a result.


I was recently com mended for my posi tive out look and upbeat perspective on life and gardening.

This morning, I pulled back the window, saw the newly-flooded garden and couldn't help but feel a little bit like a liar.

As you can see, the garden is flooded worse than I've seen it, except maybe for back in the dead of winter. It seems that all the extra soil I've brought in this spring has settled down and has been for naught against the sort of heavy rains we saw last night, and which appear to be in our forecast from now through Wednesday.

So here's the angry and frustrated gardener, supposed to be marking two weeks without a cigarette (excepting a cheat puff here and there), trying to smile when he really wants to smoke half a pack or more before starting to pot up the whole damn garden to move to some higher, drier, less expensive yard somewhere.



There's over an inch of water out there in some places, as you can see. That little oregano plant and assorted others are nearly completely submerged, the feet of all the others wetter than they ought to be.

For now, I'm not seeing any ill effects and I do know by now that the water will drain off fairly quickly...but at some point, certain species are going to start dying out in this location, so I will have to come up with some alternate plan.

Meanwhile, it's time to go to work.

The Colorful Array of a Spring Day

A steady rain marked, and dampened, the earlier part of the day...but also brought on the orange color in that tulip I showed you yesterday. Pretty nice, huh? Do you see the bud that's still green? How bout the little pair of marks on it...(it should enlarge some for your viewing)...do these look like teeth marks to any of the rest of you?

It's like Bunnicula's been here.

Leaves unfurled on the apple tree about a week ago and this morning the tree was dotted with the tight pink and red buds of apple blossoms about to be.

In the background, you can see some tiny white strawberry blossoms on the hillside below the tree.



By the time I got out of work around 5, the sun was beginning to shine again, although some high clouds remained...and I happened by one of my favorite plant purveyors to find them almost over-stocked with delightful blooms and plants of all shapes, sizes and colors.




I'll go back another time soon, when I can linger and wander up and down the aisles, with no plan in mind, just to see what all they have. But I knew that could easily turn into a lengthier visit than I had time for...but still, I let my eyes trail lovingly over a few things I certainly don't need or can necessarily afford, but could happily have welcomed in a weaker moment.

I've been discussing with Patrick the frustrations of photographing the color purple in some lights, particularly in regard to capturing the color we remember seeing on things such as violets and pansies.

I've begun to suspect this problem is worse on cloudy days, owing to ultraviolet light filtering through. After all, flowers are designed to use those invisible (to us, but not insects)rays with their brilliant shadings and textured petals to guide their potential pollinators into the sweet center of the bloom.

So while this is entirely an instinctual notion in my head based on some limited science, it feels like a somehow reasonable explanation for why the more intense colors sometimes don't photograph the way they appear to us in certain light conditions.

Anyway, these violas helped to further the discussion in my head, especially when I was trying to get the photo just right before uploading. At least this vast array ended up including some tones that ended up about the color we always seem to be looking for. They are about halfway up in the great mass of them.


It's almost overwhelming the selection arrayed before us...and even more mind-boggling to know that it'll all have gone and been replaced once or twice by Memorial Day weekend. Look at all those pansies!

Although I had a tight rein on myself and only a few bucks to spare, I did end up selecting some single flowered yellow marigolds to set out near the assorted roses up and down the fence. And it is also the right time to be planting snapdragons, so I picked up a few of those...the rocket variety that get nice and tall, in a few different colors I'm fond of.

Finally heading for home, I couldn't resist stopping by a golf course along the way for a shot of the tulip array lining the entrance to the parking lot. Aren't they something?? I'd like to see them finished off with an under-planting of grape hyacinths...but I'm a little obsessed with them, too. I suppose that's impractical here, for what may well be a temporary (annual) planting, that'll be dug up and replaced with something else when they're done.

We've got clear skies tonight, which bodes well for me doing a little planting in the morning before the predicted rain moves in for the rest of the day. In light of that, I'll nip off for a little sleep and catch up with you later.

OH. Everyday, I keep forgetting to mention this. Here on Cape Cod, we are expecting something big in the next few days, as 2008 marks the return of our region's brood of 17 year cicada. They only live for a few weeks, but in some places swarm rather intensely during that time and emit a sound that easily cracks 100 decibels.

I'm fascinated by nature, but these guys might creep me out. They are uh-uh-gly. Go ahead, look for yourself, I'll wait. See? Am I wrong?

Their intense, short-term feeding frenzies can sometimes spell trouble for trees, since they are the feast before egg laying, which is actually done by breaking open young tree limbs. Well-established trees, They said, should be fine...but the swarming was probably going to be a big annoyance, and enough to keep you inside in the morning. At night, they just sit in the trees and eat...and watch us with those evil red eyes. Mr. Mind much?

Anyway, a few weeks back the stories were all over the radio and the newspapers and they said the hatch might begin by Mother's Day, which is Sunday for any of you slackers who aren't paying attention.

A somewhat bittersweet visit to the garden today, coming as it does with the news that we may be moving from this lovely spot soon.

Destinations and plans are things of the immediate future and not yet known. At least the news comes before any real plans for fall bulb planting were formed.

Or before the planned soil amendment project for the southern beds. Or the eradication of the poison ivy (tho just for spite for the memory of the suffering I may still make some attempt at that.)

Instead, attention will turn to an inventory of available nursery pots, with a thought toward the transplantation of some of my plant friends. Some will remain behind, of course, as some always do. It's hard to stop a garden once you've gotten it going, after all.

As always, it will be interesting to explore and discover a new site, to lay out beds where none exist, or perk up those discovered with new additions.

I will miss this garden, though. It's been a delightful escape from the world, set so far off from the sounds of traffic, of television, of phones and 60 cycle hum. Such a pleasure to get lost (and lost in my thoughts) in this paradise of birds and beasts and blossoms.

And I know I'll always think of it fondly, and so will treat it kindly when I go. And I imagine I'll often wonder what its doing after I've left.

No doubt nature will take a hand in things and the field will grow up as it did before we arrived. But the imprint of our time here, of bulbs planted and plants divided and spread around. Some of that will be here to mark that I was, even if no one remembers the Who or the When.

I guess that's enough to make me smile.

Birds, Bees, Turtles and Frogs

This little purple finch (right) has set its sights on the front of our house. A few days ago, it tried unsuc cessfully to build a nest in the light fixture over our front door.

As an option, Owen hung a ceramic bird nest nearby, in hopes it will consider this alternative. We'll see what happens, but the finch's interest hasn't waned.

I'm not sure of the identity of that higher bird, to the left.

In the same neighborhood, a female cardinal (the same one that's tried to build in the andromeda bush the last two springs, perhaps) has taken to hanging out in the lower evergreen shrub next to the andromeda...which would be fine, if she could learn to be less skittish about our comings and goings. I always feel so bad for disturbing her.
* * *

Another beautiful Cape Cod day here, nice and sunny and relatively warm, though it's cooled off again now that it's dark.

That oriole I've been hearing has been making himself more visible, singing around from tree to tree around the whole yard, but particularly, it seems, in the trees around the fringe of the back garden.

The apple tree is beginning to blossom this weekend, and you can see the bumblers have wasted no time in planning their visits.


Had another good day of work out there today. I planted a pair of small marigold patches, and then planted some seeds (alyssum, cosmos and bachelor buttons) and a few more of the gladiolas.

I got more weeding done in one of the beds further out in my arrangements, and was happy to discover most of the tree seedlings I planted for Arbor Day last year are leafing out nicely. As these seedlings are still all less than six inches in height, you'll understand my enthusiasm.

And I also got the paths mowed and edged, so things are starting to look pretty nice out there.


I've been noticing a cowbird out in the back this past week, and also another, gray bird. And today, I realized that the gray one is a female cowbird (there's also been a catbird hanging around, which was helping me to confuse the identity of this one), when I saw the two of them cavorting together in the apple trees.

I was just enjoying a quiet moment at the end of the work when he came splashing into one of the freshly-filled birdbaths. He had a pretty elaborate session and the sounds of his bathing attracted other attention.

Overhead, a this bluejay circled around and landed at another feeder, where he had a nice drink before flying off again.

Mr. Cowbird made quite a fuss about drying off after his bath, fluttering around near the sun-warmed upper branches of the apple trees, rubbing his beak on the tree branches.

Meanwhile, in another part of the forest, there were three turtles on Basking Log this afternoon. One splashed away before I even snapped a photo, but I managed to get closer than usual before the other two were disturbed.

And then there was one.


Further along the shore, an assortment of green frogs lay still in the shallow edges of the pond, waiting for bugs. It must be their hrrhm hrrhm hrrrhm we've been hearing for the last week or so.