It's June, when summer enters on the breath of a whisper.

Upon buying a back issue of the Mindful Magazine to see if it was worth the read, the first issue I picked out interested me, but the other three no.  The article 'Allowing Haiku' suggests that the reader might express what they feel in the moment through Haiku to bring a sense of peaceful, awe-inspired expressiveness to their life.  It is suggested one takes a breath inbetween reading each Haiku.  We are not to judge ourselves for what we come up with.  You aren't allowed to either.  It wasn't easy to write.  I really find it hard to believe mine will bring a 'peaceful, awe-inspired expressiveness' to my life.  I can't help laughing at myself.

Upon opening a box of plants

 

No surprise – it sits here

Staring me straight in the eyes,

Plants on vacation.

 

Dig a perfect hole -

Free to breathe in the garden.

Wilt, water, wilt, water, wilt.

 

They love me, or not –

No marriage knot binds us here.

It’s never simple.

 

I try not to hope,

They’re a cantankerous lot.

Tea, biscuits and jam?

 

Wind, rain and thunder;

Will they drown - it’s on my mind,

Whatever you say.

 

It flatters me not

They droop and complain a lot.

Prima donnas all!

 

The weed patch looks ripe

To embrace its seeds with wind _

A movie?  My treat!

 

It’s always a game;

Garden of quiet laughter

And my sweet sorrows.

“Beauty surrounds us, 

but usually, 

we need to be walking in a garden to know it."

-Rumi

Under the weather, as a virus has found me and extended its stay, I’m soaking up the heat outside on this beautiful sunny June day.  A high thin layer of clouds coats the sky dome, but sunlight finds its way into the garden.

The tree frog gives a long pleading croak, advertising its availability, but I always think of him as a lonely one, void of a partner.  Wasps are moving so fast through the spicebush cover surrounding the deck, it’s impossible to identify a single one, but I’m going to guess they are hunting through the greenery for a tasty morsel to bring back to the nest to deposit a delicate egg on.

I’m sipping on hot English Breakfast tea with a spoonful of honey stirred in, as I survey my rather smallish garden for a bit of inspiration.  None comes.

(Sigh)

Robins fill the time, seeking out the large stone birdbath to rob it of its cool water, sending drops flying every which way when bathing.  Spicebushes are so bushy in the planters around the deck, they camouflage me well, but so are the robins hidden from my view.  It’s a garden of subtle sounds that one misses unless one closely listens.

The rush of wind stirring the plants _ a soothing sound bringing back memories of the days when I was out and about hiking through the tall trees... oh, to be young again for just one more hike. 

A black thread-waisted wasp lands on the regal cat statue of stone to catch its baring, then off it goes, disappearing into the garden.  I could sit here forever, if only I had a bag of salty crinkly potato chips to munch on… I’m off to the pantry.

*

*

*

Back just in time to watch a silent Blue-Jay hop through the top branches of the Blackhaw Viburnum looking for scrumptious berries.  A very long series of croaking is coming from the tree frog in the direction of the dogwood tree, as he's getting quite serious on finding a mate.  Wild breezes cause the branches of the spicebushes to toss their limbs and leaves about flirtatiously.

A bright cardinal surveys the birdbath for a dip but cuts it short and disappears into the ground cover.   Wind is picking up which is usually a signal that the weather is changing.  The cloud cover, although still quite high, is thickening.  Just a bit past noon, and the usual rainy afternoon is shaping up nicely.

Potter wasps are leaf hopping through the spicebushes to find any small caterpillars.  Last year Vic was taught how to take care of the dying bushes and this year, with lots of new growth, they stand with probably no caterpillars at all.  I am hopeful this warmer weather will bring in a few spicebush swallowtail butterflies to start the cycle once again.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in the surface beauty of nature and ignore the rest, and most of us do just that; but for everything that lives, there is always something else higher up the scale that eats it. It’s a vicious scenario going on out here right under my nose, but I’m going to chill out, drink a cup of hot honeyed tea and tell myself ‘Life is Beautiful” because in my mind at this moment, it truly is.

Toxomerus geminatus, Eastern Calligrapher syrphid fly 

 on a fleabane flower.

Adult syrphid colors are “set” by the ambient temperatures 

during their pupal period, 

so hot weather causes the yellow/orange to increase in color 

and the black becomes lighter, and if it was cold the opposite occurs.

Entrance to the rain garden area.

Clematis Viorna

This sedge is growing in full sun, 

This appeared on it's own and is 3' wide.

The Cocklebur Weevil was found on the seed heads of the sedge.

Rhodobaenue quinquepunctatus

Family Curculionidae (snout and bark beetles)

Cocklebur Weevil (1/4 to 1/2 inch long).

Feeds on plant parts.

Smiley Face.

The sucking trail of a flower bug.

Plagiognathus arbustorum, 

Common Nettle Flower Bug on Fleabane.

A mirid bug that prefers to suck on flowers, 

flower buds, and immature fruit.

Occasionally they feed on aphids and their honeydew.

In our methodical American life, we still recognize some magic in summer. Most persons at least resign themselves to being decently happy in June. They accept June. They compliment its weather. They complain of the earlier months as cold, and so spend them in the city; and they complain of the later months as hot, and so refrigerate themselves on some barren sea-coast. God offers us yearly a necklace of twelve pearls; most men choose the fairest, label it June, and cast the rest away. ~Thomas Wentworth Higginson, "April Days," 1861  [a little altered —tg]

Driveway Art

Old Ladies

Columbine near the end of their season.

Poppies In the ginger patch

Polistes carolina, Red Paper Wasp  

on Bottlebrush Grass, Elymus hystrix

A cool season bunch grass, growing spring and autumn, 

and usually dies down during the heat of summer.

It reseeds itself and one never knows where it will show up.

I love it, and it is fine for a small garden,

as long as you don't mind it never staying put 

from one year to the next with some years seeing it in a large drift.

It pulls out easily in wet soil.

Grooving in the shade.

Front Corner Garden

"Aw. come on... open sez me."

Rainy Day 

Much love, until next time -

Yvonne

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There is always a bit of magic in a September garden.

This is the best blog ever! 

We were paid nothing for this endorsement.

Hey!  

Quit hogging the bribe -- huh, the cream.

Eat fast before she takes the food away!

As a gardener, it is always in my best interest to take stalk of the natives that actually love the environment my garden gifts them, so they may thrive and prosper and produce next years’ youngsters, whether plants or invertebrates.

It’s officially fall, but we all know here, in this section of the Earth, that’s just a number on the calendar.  As for me, fall began when the nights all of a sudden became downright chilly, while the days are still roll-up-your-sleeve weather.  That was two weeks ago.

Autumn always entangles itself with summer, a slow waltz of wondering begins for us humans, as to when leaves will actually begin to fall. 

Of course, a clever person has already noticed a few leaves falling  here and there for quite some time before they descend in larger numbers to interlock with each other, layer upon layer, as winter homes for invertebrates, a blanket of warmth on the earth, and fertilizer in next years spring.  What a wonderful cycle of life nature does on her own without much of our cooperation and plenty of our hinderance. 

Blue-stemmed Goldenrod does well here in the back garden.  A demure plant that is agreeable with its surroundings, kind to the other plants that just want to be friends.  Much of the time, it pops up in its own space of bare ground, somewhat of a loner.

Wild petunias can hold their ground with aggressive plants, and bloom most of the summer in sunny patches of poor soil.  Did you know, the seeds literally explode from the plant, traveling upwards of 10 feet when fully ripe?

They get along well with their neighbors and are easy to control if you have the urge.  I never do.  Carpenter bees and hummingbirds adore them, a good food source when it’s sparse during the hot summer months.

We ordered the Blue-stemmed Goldenrod as I wish to keep the already established groups intact, but the petunias becoming overcome by shade will be dug up and transplanted to the old ash tree garden area.

It’s a slow process gathering all the bits and pieces after the ash tree was sawed into oblivion, limb by limb, showering the ground in sawdust.  Wind has blown and rain has pushed clumps of the retched sawdust into every nook and cranny of plants and rocks.

Whatever leaf mulch there was on the ground from the year before has disappeared into the garbage bin along with the sawdust and a thin coating of dirt, therefore, a thin layer of leaf compost and topsoil will be put on the ground, and probably a light coating of shredded wood mulch on top of that to keep it in place during the weather to come, and before the great falling of colorful leaves.

We can only hope all this work will be enough to keep all plants around the tree stump healthy.  Time will tell, and I have lots of it, (sigh)…

Vic’s been cleaning the overload of grass from the flower beds to make room for shrubs.  It’s a job that was best done last March, so he has his work cut out for himself.  Vic’s favorite mantra has always been, why do it today, if it can be done tomorrow.  More power to you, sweetie.  Per his request, the above photo is after he worked for hours in the weed patch... silly guy.

It is my feeling that I have lost that bit of magic from my writings that made them special.  I’ve changed, I guess… more like the shell of whom I once was, or maybe just struggling to not become obsolete when I am obsolete.  This is my third post, and I think I’ll just let it be, saving it from the recycle bin drama of the other two.

I never apologize when I dump an onslaught of photos upon you, and I’m going to drop a hefty load again, some worthy and some not quite there, but it’s all I have, so lucky you 😊.  I do appreciate every one of you, my readers.  Without you I would just be talking to myself, but then again, I am a good listener.

Winterberry berries turning red 

and Clematis viorna growing through it with a seedhead.

Winterthur Viburnum berries 

turning from cream to pink to blue.

Red Viburnum leaves, Swamp Mallow leaves, and Oak leaf

nestled with Joe Pye Weed seed heads.

Newly planted Blue Eyed Grass in some of the pots.

Liatris Aspera

Clasping Aster, Symphyotrichum patens

With Common Eastern Bumblebee

Polistes annularis, a species of the Red Paper Wasp

on Swamp Mallow plant

These photos appeared fuzzed

because they were taken throw a screened window.

Female American Redstart, Setophaga ruticilla

First one I've ever seen.

A cardinal, then a sparrow took baths 

while the Redstart looked interested for quite a long time 

before finally hopping in.  The water was a bit deep, 

so I think eventually it decided the level was low enough for a dip.

As you can really see in the last photo, 

what appears to be it's down feathers 

( I could be wrong on the feather type), 

were really fluffed out.

Female Cardinal

Looks like a Tulip Poplar Tree leaf.

The tree actually isn't a Poplar, but a member of the Magnolia family.  

Its leaves will quiver in the wind much like Poplar leaves do, 

but their shape is not the same..

Female American Redstart playing with the paraschute cords,

with much better success than the cardinals had.

Butterflyweed seedpod, Aclepias tuberosa

open with seeds exposed.

American Dogwood Tree, Cornus florida with its red berries.

You can see some of the flower nubs that weren't pollinated.

White American Beautyberry, Callicarpa americana v. lactea

Pink Turtlehead with a bumblebee.

Large Carpenter Bee, Xylocopa

Carpenter Bees have learned, or maybe it's instinct, 

to cut a hole in the side of the flower near the base to collect nectar.  

The flower isn't pollinated when this happens, 

but some bees are too big to fit inside the flower.

These flowers have a lot of ripening seedheads in fall,

so it doesn't seem to be a problem, 

as they are also visited by Bumblebees and other bees.

I think this is a Bumble Bee taking nectar from a hole near base of flower.

When the female flower pistil matures, the lips relax a bit,

and I have seen Green Bees and 

what looks like a type of Long Horn Bee also enter the flowers.

American Dogwood Leaf

Young Gray Squirrel

 

Austin squirrel Watching

Almost stepped on this little creature navigating the carpet.

Jumping Spider

Exited glass on deck railing and disappeared over the edge.

It dropped by a thread to the bottom in about one tenth of a second,

and disappeared through the decking boards.

Female Red-bellied Woodpecker, Melanerpes carolinus

With a female cardinal.

Disappearing Act

Blue-stemmed Goldenrod, Solidago caesia

On sunny days it is covered in tiny bees 

with a few small flies and Bumblebees.

Yellow is a difficul flower color for me to do close ups.

Sometimes I luck out, this time not.

Spicebush Swallowtail, Papilio troilus

Mud-puddling

The butterfly uses its proboscis, 

a long, straw-like mouthpart, 

to absorb essential nutrients from the mud.

These nutrients often include salts, amino acids, and minerals like sodium, 

which are crucial for various biological processes.

You can see this butterfly 

looks like it has been through hell to get here.

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