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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My Corner of the World

Saturday's Critters

The Mayfly Diner's News

Mom asked if I wished to do a post on her blog.  I asked her if she had lost a few marbles, and she assured me yes, but since I had been begging her for the last two years... 

Qui, moi?  Would I ever?

Do you want the job?

Since you twisted my arm, yes.  

There are a few rules...

Let me interupt here, dearest mommy.  Cats don't do rules.

Do you want the job?

Only if you don't proofread before I publish.

I thought you said cats don't do rules.

I feel compelled to protect the integrety of my work.

Well, I feel compelled to protect my sanity.

No proofreading?

Ha ha ha, dream on, little kitty.

Then no.  Do it yourself, little mommy.

Okay, sassy pants, no rules.  Don't let me down, capish!

Okay, weisenheimer mommy o' mine.

Weisenhi... what?  Where did you ever hear that word?

I'm educated in the school of Mommy.

Good grief!  I'm going to bed.

Sweet -

I know nothing about gardening or gardens, therefore I shall talk about something near and dear to my heart... me.

Yesterday a fragile mayfly tagged a ride on daddy into the house.  I played basketball a bit with the flighty little thing until it was pinned to the floor and GULP!  It was history before mom yelled "give it up!" 

Anyway, I paid for it dearly when all were sleeping, and my sweet dream, all about me, began to spiral down the rabbit hole, as mom so dryly puts it.

My dream had such a pleasant beginning...

Orange, uck!

But lovely, aren't I?

then -

What gives..

Right away, I became short on looks -

You've got to be kidding me!

Then quite ghastly -

Pucker up, dreamy eyes.

I fought back to become quite mesmerizing

  

but that orange has got to go.

But,

without warning I was improved

to something weirdly sort of pretty -

Yep, too weird.

WHAT!

No no no - A thousand times no!

Hmmm - somewhat something maybe???

Strutt those stick legs, Tiny Toes.

Sausage smausage - does any cat 

ever, ever, ever really look like this?

This dream maker really is a jokester.

Stuffed plastic isn't my thing.

Then -

down

down

d

o

w

n

 

it 

begins

down

.

down

.

down

.

into

the

rabbit

hole

she

goes

Iron Head Meowster

Psyco Kit-ti-o...

Fading -

still fading -

just

a

pencil 

scribble

on

a 

piece

of 

scrap

p

a

p

e

r

.

.

.

Wake up

Focus on happy -

WAKE UP!

WAKE UP!

WAKE UP!

wake up!

Huh...

morning -

where's the food?

Isn't it odd how my dream just illustrated itself?

Very odd.

~ Charlotte's Journal ~

Mommy gets a workout when daddy gardens, dragging her walker and herself down those steps, out into the yard, then back out of the yard and back up those steps, then dragging her walker and herself back down those steps, out into the yard, back out of the yard and back up those steps, then dragging her walker and herself back down those steps for the upteenth time, out into the yard, then... well, you get the jest.

She looks like a roasted beet by the end of the day.      

Yesterday daddy did something strange and newish - putting in instead of ripping out.  I guess they're hoping for a little miracle, as the plants he put in last year have yet to appear.  

Mommy bought nine, just a minute - here it is written down - Allegheny Spurge for daddy to put in, but daddy is prone to rushing the job to give himself more time elsewhere.  A short story cut even shorter, the plants ran out before daddy ran out or the job was finished.  I think spacing and tree roots became problematic.  

Extra plants are nowhere to be found.  Let's hope mommy's erosion prevention project doesn't find itself sledding across the mucky mire off into the hinterland during the next thunderstorm.

I think mommy is frustrated with the outdoors these days.  Her lack of proper balance is a real drag, holding her back a bit.  She struggles, as it seems neccessary in daddy's mind to keep her gimpy so he may help her more.  She causes friction at being independant.  Crazy, isn't it.  Humans are an odd lot.

Mommy managed to plant all five of the flower pots on the deck with coral bells, liatris, and asters.  She added interesting rocks to the surface of three pots for aesthetic beauty.   While her creativity has waned, she still has the desire.  

Mosquitoes are vicious this year, so I think afternoon tea is off the Menu.  Early breakfast has been splendid in the past, so let's hope this year is no different.  I know mommy loves sitting on the deck.

She struggles with life in general.  She always tells me I'm her sweetheart, and she doesn't know what she would do without me.  I love you too, dear mommy.  I love you too.

The color this week seems to be fifty shades of green.

Sometimes mommy tosses it all in the recycle bin,

starts over, and tosses it all again.

I guess she called it quits and settled for these.

They seem quite lovely to me.

Little bunny traveled across driveway into neighbor's yard,

yum yummy!

Iris fulva, Copper Iris

Clematis viticella 'Venosa Violacea'

Ten spiders in a huddle

Mommy's Place

Rainy day mushrooms in the poison ivy patch. .

Something finds them tasty.

Bottle brush grass - looks like an ichy mess to me.

Meandering path pass the Allegheny Spurge

So grapey looking, growing like a weed in all the rain.

Polistes metricus, metricus paper wasp

Triodanis perfoliata, Clasping Venus's Looking-glass

An annual wildflower 

Robins favorite bathing spot.

Phlox carolina, Thickleaf Phlox

'Minnie Pearl'

Hiding in the wild bergamot patch. 

Tomatoes have popped their little heads above ground, but the lettuce seeds are pipe dreams all nestled in their packets.  Beautyberrys - well, they are still in their nursery pots decorating the deck table.

The other day as mommy was reading on her magical laptop, she looked in my direction - but you know how sometimes that look just goes right through you and off into neverland - well, she has found a poem written about herself by a person who has never met her.  

Okay.

The Red Wheelbarrow

     William Carlos William

so much depends

upon

a red wheel

barrow

glazed with rain

water

beside the white

chickens

I think I'll just let that vision float off into the universe, while I dream of my 

next boring meal.

Here one second, gone the next - the time it took a quarter sized black 

jumping spider to run around to the underside of a black drain hose attached

to a gutter drain spout this morning as mommy was out by herself on that

bumpy eroded ground bordering the prairie garden to take photographs.

She was so excited, even though the little tyke was too fast for a photograph.

It never matters to her.  She says these moments are meant to be savored - 

a pinch of time exclusively for her.  I like to savor fresh food also, anytime.

I hope you enjoyed this post.  I was sure the ending would fall flat until

mommy woke up this morning, dragged herself into the bathroom, pulled

her hair brush through her hair and let out a scream when an earwig fell 

to the floor wondering what happened to its cushy spot on mommy's head.

Hehehe.  

I tried to make it my fresh off the range breakfast, but after two fumbles

daddy stole it from me.

Bad daddy!

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Saturdays' Critters

My Corner of the World