june ketchup

again, i am woefully negligent in my postings and offer a few errant accounts as proof that i was in awe of my surrounding this beautiful month.

first, these lady slippers, discovered on the usual walking route of the leading edge of the property's boundary line. i have seen many such plants deep in our woods, and for years have hoped that they would propagate down the hill. and i swear these were never here before. but this year, thirteen plants, all in one quite visible spot. i wish i had been more aware earlier in their blooming, and have made several notes to self to look for them next spring. 

next, this flash of brilliant blue in my peripheral vision one morning while making coffee. i abandoned the coffee to watch it, and debated leaving the window to get my camera. more and more, i am having those moments when i must choose between watching in quiet awe or grappling with the camera to document. in the end, i went for the camera, shooting rapid boosts of not-very-great photos before he flew. i have never seen a bird this blue, and wonder if it might be an indigo bunting. i expect i won't see one again for a long while.

and finally, these irises, blooming profusely on their own, and covering the unkempt hill up to the woods. they do not last long but they are beautiful while they're there. i'm always happy to see them and silently thank whoever came before me and had the presence of mind to plant them. 

out of place

found, in the woods, on the dirt driveway of friends, this maple leaf only recently unfurled on its branch. staring up at me, a circlet with colors that mesmerize. how does this happen, these odd colors, when the rest of the world is newly vibrant green? after some research, the driveway friend tells me the center is the tiny egg of a gall wasp. so now i know what it is - but i still don't understand. 

tiny volunteer

the tiniest of lupine plants, nestled among the wild violets under the garden bench, so very far away from any host plant. wondrous...how does this happen?

waylaid

all i really wanted was a picture of this butterfly that hung around the garden for days, fluttering in and around this milkweed plant. but on the way to photograph it, i got sidetracked by some of the other flowers in the garden.

purple coneflower...

poppy (from helen!)...

and daylily, with ant. 

june garden

what's blooming in june?

margarites

morning glories

inherited irises - they came with the house!

lupine - purple and pink

columbine

flight-of-the-butterfly iris

chive blossoms

and this new plant, given to me from her garden by an acquaintance. she doesn't know what it is and neither do i. but i'm watching and documenting and i'll figure it out!

what's this?

this tree's been in my backyard for half my life, yet i have never seen it like this. it's all leafed out, but it has what i can only imagine to be tree "flowers" hanging from the branches. a strange and unusual sight out the back window, that i mostly just want to document here.

purple lilac

since they began to bloom last weekend, i have taken at least a zillion photos of purple lilacs. i am hoping to capture just the right shot, and submit it to the state's lilac photo contest. i entered a few years ago with an adorable shot of the little girl wearing a red sox cap with a lilac pressed right up to her nose. maybe it was too cute - it didn't win. so this time i'm trying for a conventional shot. so far, no luck. i have only a few more days to shoot, then the florets will begin to turn brown and eventually shrivel up - along with my chances of winning.

apple blossom time

still here. enjoying the warmth and beauty of spring. finally. 

antique shades

my favorite pansies. i'm always so happy to find them again. 

at last!

snowdrops, "spring"ing from the soil on shady side of the house, where the snow is just beginning to melt. what a wonderful surprise to see them there this morning...i had forgotten i planted them!

new year, new growth - already!

in this shiny new year, i continue to "grinch" my home and pack up christmas earlier than ever before. i set to gather up the holly, mostly dry and brittle, to take to the frozen compost pile, but stop when i notice this new growth, popping from the top of the cut stem. it seems a shame to not watch it, see what it turns into. it could be good diversion from the january cold and snow. so i keep it.

mid-november garden

oh, the things you find when you are sooo very late in putting your summer gardens to bed...

a cocoon, or an egg sack of some sort, firmly attached to the leaf of an obedient plant. wispy yet dense, something's in there, warm and cozy and waiting for spring. 

in the daylily bed, what looks like new growth, already begun. it always amazes me that there can be the thrill of such a brilliant green during this month of drab browns.

more growth - male holly flowers, budded in autumn during a warm spell. there's no time to bloom now. 

beautiful, intricate pods, these from the small morning glories, still tangled around the trellis. i'll let the seeds fall where they may, and i'll hope for small spring miracles. 

this tiny oak, smack in the middle of a clump of tightly-packed irises. it must have been there since spring. this unfortunately speaks to my weeding routine - or lack of it. 

the missing rocket balloon from august, wrapped around the stem of a columbine. so that's where it landed!

and on the bench, a scattering of pine cone bracts. some small hungry animal has been foraging, preparing for a winter which is coming soon. 

now, brown

driving the long way last evening, marvelling at the browns and russets and golds of the late october landscape. more rain, wind, and cold will drop these remaining leaves to the ground very soon. right now, though, late fall is still distracting enough to make me pull over to the side of the road for a while.

autumn 2014: postscript

red sunrise early this morning confirms what the forecast says: storms are coming and it's going to rain. this rain will quickly end our foliage season for good.

already, the end has begun, though. driving the back roads, leaves surge wildly through the air as the car passes through tunnels of trees. when i walk in the morning, i try to catch one before it hits the ground - for good luck, as told to me by savvy six year-olds. there have been several half-hearted attempts at raking, mostly just to make piles to jump into, throwing leaves into the air, and shrieking. but the heavy duty raking will be next weekend, after this rain, after all the maple and oak and birch leaves are down and the trees are winter bare.

my newest interesting word: abscission. the botanical term for leaves and other parts falling from a plant. it's what happens to deciduous trees in the fall. who knew there was such a fancy word for such a bittersweet ending?

unseasonable

this has been a good summer. there have been warm days and comfortable nights, enough rain (i think), good beach days and lots of time to enjoy being outside. a few hot spells but not much humidity. it's been wonderful, but just not right. no monarch caterpillars or butterflies. crickets chirping since early summer when they usually chorus in august. early summer flowers blooming late and late summer ones blooming early. and now, shocking signs of autumn, earlier than i have ever noticed. and it's not even september yet.

diminutive

the tiniest of poppies, not much bigger than a raspberry, blooming in my neglected garden. i glanced it, the speck of pink, on a window walk-by as i was on my way to something more important. a butterfly i thought, or a petal from geraniums. upon investigation, this surprise volunteer. i didn't plant it nor scatter seed in the spring. my only encounter with poppies was this partly successful attempt some years back. how can such tiny seeds survive for that long? and how can something so minute grow into something that complex?

columbine

through the window, the garden calls. the spring pinks, blues, and purples are in bloom. lupine, iris, wild geranium - and the columbines nodding in the breeze. it's such a mess out here - last year's 'garden club' plants have multiplied wildly, there are still pots still to plant, stubborn weeds to eradicate, and a long-planned patio space to build. but in the early morning light, it's lovely nonetheless.

needful things

so much snow with the ides of march - but warming air brings melting and giant puddles of water with icy bases! i need spring now and hurry off late to see my friend, the local florist. she has tulips and daisy-like mums, shamrocks and roses. but my choice is stock, almost gone by, and she gives it to me at a bargain price. i love the pale yellow of the flowers, but i buy it for the smell. now, hours later, the heady scent of clove wafts across my desk as i write. just what i needed!

winter herbs

early in the morning, as the coffee brews, i begin a job i look forward to each january: i carefully lift bunches of summer herbs down from the beam in my kitchen where they've been hanging for months and i prepare to store them for winter use. i am intentionally late in doing this. it's an experience i need now, in the blustery cold of winter, more than in the calm warmth of october when the herbs are likely more fresh.

peppermint, orange mint, my favorite spearmint, thyme. i strip woody stems of their crinkled leaves which i gently crush in my biggest bowl. soon the kitchen smells like july as i funnel and bottle and label. i pile the stems to save for an aromatic start to a fire. flakes fall into my coffee, giving it a hint of mint some folks pay for. the scent will linger into mid-morning as i go about my other work. and i'll wait just as long as i can to wash away those sweet summer oils from my fingertips.

christmas cactus

for too many years to count, i've wanted a christmas cactus that blooms. most of the plants i've had have been green and beautiful, but sadly flowerless. once i bought a christmas cactus at an estate sale, sure that if it bloomed for some old deceased lady, it would bloom for me as well. not so. then, i had a huge christmas cactus at school that i left there with a colleague. it never bloomed for me - maybe my friend can coax it along. but this one, this tiny little slip of a thing, is a cutting i bought from a fifth grade fund-raiser last year for two dollars. it had a few blossoms then. but look - it's really going to bloom this year. i'm pretty excited - and i don't even care that it's going to bloom for thanksgiving and not for christmas!