July's End

Here's a special treat unique to this morning: the Casa Blanca lily has begun to bloom. Regrettably, the plant has been a little overtaken by that very first sunflower, which is still blooming like crazy. I planted it there before realizing that the lily would also be rising there.

The lilies were about twice their height at the old location (check the Casa Blanca tag for last year's amazing show), but that was after two years of putting out some nice deep roots. This year, they're recovering from the move and now a little overshadowed by those upstart sunflowers.

But the show's still a lovely one...you just have to go looking for it. The scent is still heavenly...very light this morning, as is its custom. Tomorrow morning the air will be heavily scented...especially if it's kind of foggy and moist like it was this morning...and as it has become again this evening.

Weird computer thing going on here...it appears that my monitor is beginning to give up the ghost. As I posted this morning's entry, the red cones in the monitor seemed to fail, as everything became a sort of pale blue instead of white...and all red tones disappeared.

I think I was still able to develop these photos as I otherwise would...I'm just not seeing the final true colors as you are. Ah, well...it was a second-hand monitor when it came into my possession and truthfully, it's lasted longer than I'd expected at the start of our acquaintance.

I wonder how much longer before it totally gives me the finger. ; )

In other news, as I was tidying up the garden yesterday, I remem bered Butch's advice from back when the sunflowers first began blooming. At the time, he suggested tying the spent flowerhead onto a tree branch, as a feeder for the birds.


So, as I deadhead the smaller sunflowers which had passed, I bundled the seed heads together into a sort of bouquet, and then lashed it to the tallest tomato plant stake.


As you can see, I've left the largest seedhead hanging from its own stem for now. It has the look of a carnival ride and I know the goldfinches will be able to get under there for the seed just fine.

The goldfinches were all over the seed bouquet this morning, as well as nibbling or nectar-sucking from the fresher flowers.


These shots aren't as clear as I might like...they utilize both the fast setting and the digital zoom, as I was shooting through the glass window of the front door.

Fun to watch them flit and flutter around. They are wild little birds to study, fast moving and all over the place...and so light, they can perch on the side of the thinnest plants without bowing them to the ground.

Plus, they are like flowers with their bright yellow and black coloration. Flowers that have come to life and left their stems to take to the air, cavorting with butterflies and bees and all.

Yesterday afternoon, I saw a blue dragonfly a couple of times. It kept landing on the flagstone walk in the sun, but never remained long enough for me to train my camera on it. I have high hopes for the hot afternoons of August, when they seem - as do we all - a little lazy about accomplishing anything more than sitting around in the afternoon sun for a little while.

Today was a bit cooler than we've enjoyed recently, the temperature only climbing into the mid-60s. It was a mildly overcast day and the fog - which never seemed to recede entirely - came rolling back as afternoon became evening...looking like smoke drifting over the neighborhood rooftops.

Morning

Lily bulbs are such amazing things. Each one contains everything that its resulting plant will be, down under the ground. I don't think I realized that until I had grown some perfect, first year bulb plants...and then, after nicking a bulb with a shovel while transplanting, saw the misshapen, lopsided plant that resulted. It's made me a very cautious digger, where lilies are concerned.

That wasn't what caused this unusual four-petaled stargazer lily flower, though. I think this was one of the bulbs in the mixed bag I purchased way back in early spring. They've all been short bloomers this year, which I think is more a product of their being smaller, second-rate bulbs (Six for four dollars was a bargain, after all).

In time, I'm sure they'll grow large and strong and tall...but meanwhile, I'm still delighted with these perfect-looking (to me) flowers and their heady fragrance!

Tomorrow is a day off and I'm looking forward to accomplishing a few assorted things with the precious time to myself. I've probably got in spent ten different ways with all I have in mind to possibly accomplish, but hopefully, one of the things I'll successfully complete would be the rescuing of my fence flags from the binding tendrils of the morning glories.

They need a little tough love, I think...though it's hard to be annoyed with such eager healthy plants. But it would be nice to see the flags flapping in the breeze once again.

That the morning glories match the magenta lychnis was unplanned, just one of those happy accidents. But then, when you welcome all the colors, some are bound to be the same.

I'm also fond of the pairing of the lychnis and the Queen Anne's lace, but then again, Anne looks good with just about everything!

It was odd to water the garden this morning. I haven't had to do so for about a week, with all the rain and overcast days, and I'd almost forgotten the routine it requires. But it was hot and sunny yesterday and the forecast called for more of the same today, so after an uncertain start, all went well and everything enjoyed a good drink.

I have also noticed (and added to that long list of Things To Do) that there are a number of things I do consider weeds, growing quite tall and robust, along the fence. I'll need to extract them as carefully as Java spoke of in her recent allegory, so as not to disturb their neighbors.

Meanwhile, I have some non-garden, non-blogging things that need tending to, as well, so we'll see what the day brings.

In another part of the forest, a pale pink bachelor's button came into bloom today. It was a sunny part of the "forest", though, as you can see. I didn't get out to take pictures quite as early as I might've liked, so the light was a little strong and washed out the already light color. Still, very pretty.

I think this pink pretty revealed something pretty interesting to me, as well. But I'll save that tale for another time.

These deep blue bachelor's buttons are still my favorite.

Garden In the Rain

At the end of what was a somewhat rainy and not overly-sunny week, the heavens opened up and the skies poured down with rain last night.

At one point, Em indicated a need to go out and when I opened the back door, we listened to the steady rain and she looked out, and then up at me with a "hell no" all over her face and went back to the couch to wait it out. Eventually, we tried again and only when I agreed to go out first and get wet with her did she quickly tend to her business. Then towels all around.

This morning I woke early to the sound of a renewed downpour, stronger than the night before and coming in the windows now. I got up to shut them and snapped a few shots before climbing back into bed.

There are, after all, few comforts nicer than being in your warm bed with the sound of the rain outside, especially when a cosy kitty curls up against your legs.

But this was not the sort of rain that's especially kind on gardens. There was a surplus, which tends to collect out front before soaking in...but a hard rain is also tough on delicate plants and causes everything to droop and bend and look pretty awful.

Okay, well, not necessarily awful...but besodden, bedraggled and forlorn, at the very least.

A morning rain does cancel the morning glories, who just sort of sag and droop without unfurling, their potential for brightening the day called on account of showers.

All the Queen Anne's lace hung heavy with raindrops. There will be much deadheading when all these wet flowers have dried in the sun.

The coneflowers were hit especially hard, some of them falling down flat as their roots loosened in the soaking soil and were particularly sad looking.

Of course, the flood waters were at an all time high, as you can see. The boat shoes were more like U-boat shoes this a.m. Perhaps they will have dried out in a day or so.

But I knew the coneflowers would be fine if I got them support right away, so I waded in to rig some loops of twine off the fence to hold them upright.

Only one stem had broken off, and it's good sometimes to have a reminder to bring some flowers inside. All too often I forget to do that.

Things looked a little better when I'd tended to that, though it would still be a little while before the rain tapered off to nothing and the excess began to soak in...which took a few hours more.

But as it was going, there were new surprises. This lavendar beebalm (monarda) has begun its serene display today...and not far from there I discovered a stalk that's suddenly leaped out of a low rosette of leaves. I'd been watching it to see just what it was going to be, and it appears I'll have some bellflowers/harebells to enjoy in a day or so.

And just a little further down from there, the first flower of the Stargazer oriental lily had sprung open in the rain.

So it's not all bad.

"The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,
And drinks, and gapes for drink again.
The plants suck in the earth, and are
With constant drinking fresh and fair."
- Abraham Cowley

Welcome Cleome

The Queen Anne's Lace I transplanted into the border earlier this spring is now beginning to bloom. I love this lacey white flowers; they make a great addition to my overgrown border, and work well in some of the drier sections of the garden, or where the soil isn't top-notch.

Their lacey beauty also makes me think of weddings. I realized today that, while many of us know when Lincoln's Birthday falls on the calendar (or at least the day its celebrated), fewer of us know that Lincoln's Anniversary--bloggers Abe and Patty Lincoln, that is--was today. Abe celebrated the occasion by rescuing a window-strike-stunned grackle at My Birds Blog, while Patty put together a wonderful slide show over at her blog. Stop by and wish them a happy day, won't you?

After Afod's comment the other day, in which he wondered if the Shasta Daisies were really as tall as the split-rail fence, I thought it was time I offered a couple of long shots of those guys, who are truly towering in the sunshine this year.

The time of day meant the Shastas themselves didn't photograph in detail well due to the sun's bright reflection off them, but you can still see just how tall these Shasta Blastahs are.



T'was also an exciting morning here, at least for a plant geek like myself, as the first cleome flower had begun to open in its unique fashion.





I also had a nice surprise when I discovered that one of those first cleome seedlings has turned out to sport white flower buds. This was unexpected since I planted seeds from a package labeled purple.

Rather than be disappointed, I'm actually kind of excited about the greater variety. White flowers in a garden with so many colors are always welcome since they are sort of neutral and help all the others play nicely together.



Yet another sunflower has burst forth from that first plant...and I caught a much more detailed glimpse of one of those bees I was featuring yesterday.


By the end of the afternoon, another cleome seedling had begun blooming, as well. Check out the contrast of the deeper purple flower buds, against the slightly more magenta tones of the open petals. Just fantastic...




The snapdragon show is in full swing, as you can see quite easily here. And now, the deep red rockets are coming onto the scene as well.

These are truly my favorites of the snaps. Their scent is, remarkably, identical to tropical punch Kool-Aid, so you gotta wonder where the drinks people got their fragrance/flavoring from.

The Tiny Hope red lilies are continuing to bloom, even as the earliest blossoms have already been removed from the stalk. It looks like we can count on them to continue for about another week, depending on what sort of weather we see.

Here's a close-up of the other rudbeckia plant, yet a third variety of the species, this one with its painted petals. Another species of bee appears here.

Morning Discoveries

I'm no morning glory. It takes only the first glimmer of morning sun on the horizon to get them to unfurl their petals and turn to golden glow in the east. For me, it really takes at least one cup of coffee...and this morning, it wasn't really anywhere near dawn, thanks to the cat curled comfortably on my feet and the cool morning air coming in the bedroom window.

After a few slugs of coffee and a one-eyed squint at the online weather forecast to see if there was any chance of rain(none, a cloudy morning followed by sunshine), I stumbled out into the yard, cup in hand, to get the soaker hose connected and turned on.

That done, I wandered out around the fence in search of the morning's new offerings.

There were more of those blue morning glories quietly blossomed in the lush leaves of the vines on the first post. I was admiring those when I heard something down by my feet.

Mine was sort of a delayed reaction and I suppose my sleepiness may have contributed to his mediocre reaction. Generally, the bunnies are just wary enough to not let you get all that close. This little guy, however, is apparently too young to know that yet.

I'd spotted him last evening, as Em and I were finishing our walk. She, as usual, was oblivious, despite my circling her around for another look at him, over the fence in Sophie's yard across the street. The Little One didn't move, nor did he seem particularly frozen with fear.

This morning, I think I nearly stepped on him and that only caused him to hop away a foot or so, before finding a fresh patch of plantain and clover to nibble on. He's the only one of a new generation I've seen so far.

He's got a lot to look out for in this little world of his. I've heard that feral cats in the neighborhood killed an entire litter of rabbit kits earlier this spring and the hawk was big news amongst the birds just a few nights ago. Practical Gardener wants to make a little noise, scare him off, to make him a little more wary of people. They aren't all like me, after all, and he ought to know the difference.



But Practical Gardener comes into conflict with Poet Gardener, who's actually already wondering about what his little life entails. Is he part of a larger family group? Is he off on his own, already, looking for a territory to claim, and where will he meet a doe? And of course, he's already wondering if "Clover" or "Hazel" would be a good name for this little guy.

Naming wild creatures is always a bad idea, says Practical Gardener. It would be hard enough to find his little carcass without it having a name. But Poet Gardener isn't even listening anymore. He thinks this bunny looks more like a "Henry" somehow.


As you can see, those two lilies which began blooming yesterday really are nestled pretty deeply in clouds of allyssum, which are concealing even more fully a drift of yellow and orange marigolds in the distance. Also, anyone who worries about not having time for weeding may embiggen this to take note of the witch grass and wild oxalis I'm turning a blind eye toward in this part of the garden.

Meanwhile, the tiny thistle seedling I dug out of the edge of the CSX Railroad right-of -way in Austerlitz NY a few years back has become a rather large and happy plant in this new location.

It straddles the line between good dirt and the clay soil in that last section of the garden bed, where I've planted more wild things.

Recently, it's branches had grown so large that they were laying down across other things in the garden, like the purple allyssum at the feet of red rose Mister Lincoln (seen here in the lower left)and falling out the front of the garden onto the grass.

Last evening, I wove a pair of bamboo stakes around the sturdy stems of the thistle, raising them back up in the air again, to give the understory plants a chance to thrive. I'm kind of excited by how hard to spot the stakes are now, and just look at the shape of that "little" thistle plant now. Just wait 'til it starts blooming.

I've noticed that these yellow rudbeckia flowers are starting to develop a little of that darker color at the insides of their petals. I wonder if this coloration is a product of soil nutrients, as the color of hydrangeas is often dependent on the amount of aluminum in the ground. Still, they have a long way to go to catch up with the orange and brown flower on the far side of the plant.

Speaking of hydran geas, the one under my bedroom window turns out to be one of those lace-cap varieties. As you can see, it's developing a lovely shade of blue.

I believe there is another hydrangea plant nearby, though to be honest all the plants against the front of the house are seriously bound up with bindweed, which I will have to address shortly.

That other hydrangea is a bit crowded between the azalea and evergreen on either side of it, and really deserves to be dug up and given some space to do its thing unfettered somewhere with a little elbow room.




Hanging from the eves of the porch is the little fuschia plant I bought last week. The variety is called Winston Churchill.


No cigars or speeches from this pretty little plant, though. Interestingly (considering its namesake), its white skirts change to purple as the blossom ages (perhaps J. Edgar Hoover might've been more appropriate), creating some nice variety on just one small plant.





There's a little traffic down at the bottom of this sky shot. Not at all the focus here, as it was moving briskly and no troubles to speak of. No, it was the clouds that caught my eye here, as I headed off to work this morning.

There was plenty to hold my attention in the office this afternoon, with a few new events popping unexpectedly onto the horizon, while details for other upcoming parties began to fall into place.

At day's end, though, I was happy to detour down to the beach parking lot for a look at how some people were whiling away their afternoons. Really, I just wanted to see the sunshine on the water for a few minutes before turning to head home.

Sunday Garden Report

Yesterday's rain brought plenty of rewards in the garden this morning. First off, are those fabulous red lilies from Kelly and Carol. I've learned, actually, that Kelly only gave these to me so she could watch me grow them and enjoy them as if they were hers, without actually having to, like, plant them and stuff.

And I'm only too happy to have them here. While there were many things that put me on the path to being a gardener, I think I have lilies to thank for actually bringing me to the party for my own pleasure. I already knew how fantastic they were, but when I learned how easy they were to have around, there was nothing for it but to be a gardener. Thank goodness for all those other flowers to happily occupy my attention until the days the lilies bloom.

And t'was quite the day for lilies, too, as it turns out. In addition to those wonderful reds, at the far end of the fence this morning I found this little pink asiatic, nestled in a bed of allyssum.

I'd hoped the lily would be taller, and the allyssum from seed is taller than I'd expected. They turn out to be a winning combination.

Barely a hand's width through the allyssum from the pink lily is this trumpet lily, a single blossom. It is pale pink streaked on the outside, but buttercream yellow within. I'm surprised this one is so very diminutive(not that there's anything wrong with that), as they are generally much taller.

But both this and the pink one are from that bag of assorted lily bulbs I picked up at the Christmas Tree Shop this spring. They weren't expensive, so it makes perfect sense that the bulbs are smaller. I'm sure in time, this will tower with a dozen blooms in some season yet to come. But for now, this one perfect blossom will do very nicely.

I found this blue morning glory unfurled under a canopy of its own large green leaves on the fencepost closest to the driveway.

Its fun to have grown them from seed this year and to have blossoms on the vines so early in the season (or at least it seems so to me, based on past experience in shadier gardens). The vines are certainly keeping me busy lately, as they are growing pretty rapidly. Fortunately, I love taking the time to train them along the twine trellacing I strung on the fence posts where they are growing.

I found one this evening which had opted away from the fencepost and has decided to clamber and meander amongst assorted other flowers in the understory of the garden nearby. My first reaction was to want to tease it free and direct it up the fence, but then, I decided I rather liked the idea of one of them rambling through the rest of the chaos and creating a little more.



A third sunflower blooming today, as well. This is the second flower on that first plant. Its predecessor has now shed all its petals and should be attracting the attention of my bird friends shortly.

Meanwhile, more of the snapdragons have begun to bloom now, with buds forming on almost all the remainder of the plants. I'm happy to see that these are more muted tones, as they will help to soften the riot of color presented elsewhere.

I think it's kind of funny how I planted them all on the same day and they were all about the same age when I purchased them. And yet, due to the different conditions which have presented themselves to each plant, depending on the microclimate created by their plant neighbors in the border (some tower over their companions, while others have been shaded by taller perennials and sunflowers), they will each bloom on their own day, instead of all at once.


Hopefully, for photography purposes, there'll be some common bloom times, but I'm happy to have their presentations staggered across the season, too. Really, it'd just be sensually overpowering if they all bloomed at once, eh?




In another part of the garden, the Fabulous Mister Lincoln, everyone!! (The first smart-ass to call out "sic sempre tyrannes" gets their garden privileges revoked.)




I'm glad I decided on tons of allyssum on the border. It's a nice unifying element along the whole border.

I just love the big billowy clouds of the stuff and its honeyed fragrance. It also looks great with pale purple chive blossoms.

Generally, I'm pleased that we have missed out on all the cicada excitement this spring. I heard there were some in Brewster, but have been hearing reports from further up-Cape, areas like Sandwich and Falmouth, where they are forming their predicted walls/clouds of insects in flight, trees and shrubs chewed to bits and noise enough to keep you from thinking. But as a fan of all things natural, I'm just a little disappointed not to have had the experience...or at least some reasonably good reason to make the drive to check them out.

Since Kelly is the founder, of sorts, of at least part of our visual feast in the garden this week, I happily pander to her with this sexy shot of those red lilies, taken during one of today's few truly sunny moments.



For anyone else who thinks they might like to contribute a plant they'd like to see me grow in the Midnight Garden (heh heh, what a plant whore, huh?), I remind you that this is a good time of year to order bulbs and roots for fall planting.

; )