If Looks Could Kill ~

There is always that distance you are from me, where you seem more like a spirit
in the wind than a real-life creature of feathers maneuvering like an acrobatic ninja from one clematis bell shaped flower on to the next for an early breakfast this morning with me.  

I am honored.  I do wish you would stay awhile, but we all know you have little time to say hello and less time to say goodbye before off you go…

and where (does one ask?)

Well,

Only the heavens know, and they aren’t telling.

Why is it that this creature can jump start a cold heart into a roaring fire when it is sited?  What unseen tether binds this little soul to mine in a way that only friends may know?

What keeps me anticipating the reappearance of one hovering eye to eye even though year after year it never happens again? 

Perhaps it is a gentle reminder that we might never take even the smallest things for granted.

My garden is a weaving of warp threads, that which was already here, and waft threads, that which I added to create a tapestry uniquely me.  It changed the boredom of my life into happiness, even though it has been wrought with doubts, hopes, triumps, and failures, joy and sadness throughout its existence.  It still gives me pleasure.

While I tend to write using my feelings as far as nature is concerned, I do know it is not true nature.  It is my feelings.  Trying to survive on a planet out to kill you if you let down your guard is true nature.  Sometimes I write about it, but honestly, few ever really want to hear it.  La La Land seems to be preferred.

The ending of mommy's story 

and 

the beginning of my story -

Ms.Charlotte FeatherBender's 

Adventure in La La Land

Not a word, or it's curtains for you, fuzzie cheeks!

Mommy's at an impasse, in that her head can't agree as to what her fingers might type.  In contrast, mommy's been teaching daddy the concept of overwatering and he's becoming exceptionally good at it.

After I pointed out to mommy her only other option for a little time off was to pick daddy to finish her blog post, I got the job.  She did refuse to forego the proofreading, ergo forcing me into bad kitty mode.  The story shall be written.  I'll reprimand myself afterwards.

Mommy asked daddy about the asters and coneflowers that no longer seem to exist in the front garden bed under the windows she looks out of everyday.  Daddy's been weeding there, so he's not talking.

  

He put his foot into his mouth, shoe and all, the other day when mommy tried to stuff the words it's all about you back down his throat.  I didn't think that was humanly possible, but mommy proved me wrong.  You go, girl!

You might be thinking mommy and daddy have been married forever, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the banter keeps things lively for this feline during a boring afternoon, while Austin hids under a bed where he can't sit on my head.  A nice win for me.

Found this meter gadget in daddy's tool cabinet with a glass window on the front, collected probably before he met mommy, encrusted with rust... you know, all that stuff daddy meaninglessly stockpiles just in case it's ever needed.  I wonder if it works?

(shake, shake, shake)

What the...?

(shake, shake, shake)

Good Grief!

I'm beginning to talk like mommy.

(shake, shake, shake!)

I knew it!

Too much rust.

(shake, shake, shake, shake, shake)

Maybe a few more...

(shake, shake, shake)

YIKES!!!

Darn it, dropped it on the floor.

It's history now.

I dropped it into my water bowl to finish it off.

I wonder what else is in daddy's tool cabinet?

~ The Tool Cabinet ~

It stands impressively tall, too heavy for its wheels to be of much use.  It was an agreement between the two – not a necessity for him, but to her it was a way to organize a bit of the chaos that seemed to collect around him.

She wanted to purchase the largest of the brand, but the next one down was the more practical of the two.  She hated always being practical.  It was not her life as she had invisioned.

She brought seven tools into the marriage, as she purchased only when one was needed.  Lovingly used, they looked immaculate compared to his.  He brought in the old metal handled toolboxes, maybe nine in number, packed with rusty dulled edge tools that looked abused and worn out.

She wondered why he had tools.  He was not a handyman.

He filled ten drawers of their toolbox with his tools leaving her a small half size drawer for her tools, and a regular four-inch-deep drawer for purchases down the road to take care of the house and garden.

The largest of the drawers, the bottom one, carried so much weight in tools that the flat metal bulged under pressure and formed a gigantic bowl that scraped across the bottom of the cabinet when it was opened or closed.

Three handheld toolboxes full of tools remained cluttering up the garage.  She told him to get rid of them, so he stuffed even more into the bulging, overburdened tool cabinet before giving up the rest. 

She ignored it all.  He was so unchangeable.

He used her tools without asking, and put them back, not in her drawer, but his.  Sometimes she would hunt through his drawers to reclaim her tools, but the day came when she moved her tools into two drawers in the kitchen and never looked back.

I’m not sure the moral, if any, this poignant tale encompasses.   Perhaps this little saying says it all –

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it is about learning to dance in the rain.”

People!  We felines embrace life head on.  So does mommy.

I guess the heat put mommy in pooped out mode, as her first photo looks simply weedy.   Poor mommy.  I'll put my magical toes to work and see what I can do with it.

Crap!  Uh... right, people are reading this.  Drats!  Mommy left notes.  This beauty is Fatoua villosa, translates to densely hairy and is part of the Mulberry Tree family in Asia.  Well...la te da.  A weed is a weed.

Lovely Spicebush berries

An omnivore, in the front garden, hiding from carnivores.

Cottontail Rabbit

yummy yum!

Pesty Austin at his lovable best.

 Broadleaf Plantain (Plantago major)

Ekking out a living in the cracks.

Bumblebee feeding on the Joe Pye Weed.

Stunning against the orange edged violet leaf.

Maybe a Zabulon Skipper Butterfly

Chelone lyonii, Turtlehead 

Maybe a leaf from a Tulip Tree (Liriodendron tulipifera)

Lonicera sempervirens, Coral Honeysuckle

Mommy has it cut down every year,

so it doesn't grow up into the blackhaw viburnum

and drag the limbs down to the ground.

Tiny Spicebush Caterpillars

hiding for the day.

These caterpillars are very small, 

but they already have the two dots on their thorax

used to mimic a snake when larger.

Looks like appetizers rolled in a leaf

Mommy says I have that 

tired, 

disgusted, 

would rather be somewhere else look 

that could kill in a heartbeat.

Dang it.

She knows me so well.

I have no ending for this post,

as I live in the suburbs 

where dogs are loved 

and cats are hated.

I am never allowed outdoors.

  

I live in prison for my own protection.  

I'm returning to one of the cell blocks 

down the hallway to take a snooze.

Charlotte

This Post is Linked to:

Saturday's Critters

As time goes by in the weed patch -

An intruder in the weed patch

we lovingly call

The

Garden

Did a mad gardener creep through the dark of night

And plant you underneath the great white oak

Where you hid as the rain fell to give you a soak

And where I marveled on first discovery

And puzzled…

You were,

After all,

Too exquisite for the site.

 

What madness this is, that with a bit of leaf and petal

You have stolen my heart with your pale violet hue

Miss ‘Whoever You Are’… did you have a clue?

With a sigh and then a gentle smile

I wonder…

Did you,

           After all,

                      Choose here with me to settle?

 

She whispers as she sways in the breeze with such grace,

They will last but a day, my lavender entourage,

More will come and go, a never-ending montage.

In the safety of your garden I will grow,

Sweet mistress…

I am

After all

A wild one with superb taste.

 

Ruellia caroliniensis

I think, I can't get down eye level with it to view closeup.

 I plant Ruellia humilis when I add it to the garden.

This plant has a succession of flowers, each lasting only a day.

Fireflies in the Garden

by Robert Frost

Here come real stars to fill the upper skies,

And here on earth come emulating flies,

That though they never equal stars in size,

(And they were never really stars at heart)

Achieve at times a very star-like start.

Only, of course, they can't sustain the part.

If you want fireflies, or lightning bugs in your garden, 

then leave the leaves on the ground year around. 

 They really should be called a lightning beetle,

because they are a beetle,

and the lights are more like flashes of lightning than a fire.

Just my opinion.

False Parasol or Green-spored Parasol Mushroom

Chlorophyllum molybdites

Poisonous

Growing in our neighbor's lawn.

I read it is quite common.

Cat Boy

When the neighbor next door to her got divorced,

their cat was left behind with the husband

who never took care of him.

He came to live with the her, the neighbor next door,

on her porch where she gave him a bed and food.

She named him Cat Boy.

He lives as a wild cat and quite looks the part,

worn out and not too healthy.

He likes to visit my garden quite regularly

to rest and hunt.

I usually chase him back across the street,

but today I felt sorry for him, a bit. 

In winter I get up at night
      And dress by yellow candle-light.
      In summer, quite the other way,
      I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see
      The birds still hopping on the tree,
      Or hear the grown-up people's feet
      Still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
      When all the sky is clear and blue,
      And I should like so much to play,
      To have to go to bed by day?

~Robert Louis Stevenson, 

"Bed in Summer," A Child's Garden of Verses

Margined Calligrapher (Toxomerus marginatus)

The adult flower fly eats nectar, 

but the larvae eat soft bodied insects, including aphids and thrips-

Feeding on White Avens wildflower(Geum canadense)

Geum canadense seedheads are hooked, 

and can attach to fur or clothing.

In my opinion, they are one of the easier burrs to remove.

I think, a small Carpenter Bee in the genus Ceratina.

Daylily, name unknown, not native.

Hypericum prolificum (Shrubby St. Johnswort)

Ruellia humilis, Fringe-leaf Wild Petunia

"Lullaby Baby" Daylily - not native

A Flesh Fly is ovoviviparous.

According to an AI overview:

"ovoviviparous means that the female fly does not lay eggs.  

Instead, she retains the eggs inside her body until they hatch, 

and then she deposits live larvae (maggots) 

onto a suitable food source like carrion or decaying material.  

This is different from most flies, which lay eggs."   

Common Buttonbush, Cephalanthus occidentalis

Celandine Poppy, Stylophorum diphyllum

Spider Daylily, "Aabachee" - not native

It’s rather late this morning, 91 F. degrees late, and to breathe in this heavy air is not pleasant.  The first batch of cicadas are buzzing a bit this hour, and some kind of black and white thing loudly buzzed past my head and erratically into the spice bushes.

I don’t know why I’m out here, oh, that’s right; it’s to write up something authentic about life in the garden this tortuous morning.  I feel like I’m being dried out in the dehydrator into a wrinkly old tomato.  Doesn’t matter that I already look the part due to a problem called years stacking up upon each other.

Cicadas are revving up their buzzing now echoing back and forth across the garden, and I have just jumped out of my skin as the neighbor next door decided to rev up his hot rod engine to max, which is now beginning to hurt my ears and head.  I might have to cut this short if he doesn’t drive that horrible thing off down the road into the din of traffic.

The new plants in the pots on the deck are suffering immensely and are being moved under the umbrella during the heat wave.  Vic’s watering the garden because it is a garden, and we want it to look presentable throughout the summer.  I think the only garden that doesn’t take up ones laborious time is a concrete block.

High up cumulus clouds are quietly moving across the baby blue sky, and only a peep here and there from birds trying to stay cool.  Traffic one house over on the makeshift thoroughfare is increasing as lunch time is approaching. 

A little break to bring you up to date with my cares and woes.  A very short break as if you really want to be drawn into someone else’s drama. 

Several weeks ago, while trying to kill a mosquito that kept circling my body in my comfortable lounge chair with that irritatingly high pitched buzzing that brings a certain amount of dread to one’s life, one of my swipes to annihilate it gouged my arm, and it was like moving a mountain to stop the bleeding.

I now have a first aid kit for those on a blood thinner, and a more mindful presence about me.

Several days ago, although I never saw the culprit, the emergency room doctor thought an insect bite is what caused a sudden excruciating burning pain on my lower leg, and a golf ball size welt filled with blood.  Given my history, I'm on an antibiotic for anything passed from insect into my blood stream.

Well, I decided to throw in the towel, and am outside no more.  Air conditioning is such a sweet luxury.  I'm beginning to love the AI Overview on the computer, as anytime I wonder if one of my sentences stink, I type it in and press enter, and AI politely gives me its opinion.

When I titled a previous post "It is all so fragile in life and a garden", I wasn't sure if my meaning would come across as I meant it, and this is part of AI's Overview:   

"That's a very insightful observation! Many people find parallels between the fragility of life and the delicate nature of a garden.     

• Beauty and Appreciation: Both life and gardens offer moments of profound beauty and joy. Taking the time to be present and appreciate the ephemeral nature of these moments makes them all the more special." 

One has to love the phrase "the ephemeral nature of these moments".

Now how poetic is that.  Kind of puts me out of a job as a writer.  I gather AI takes everything that anyone has ever written on the internet and comes up with an opinion of its own.  I have a mission now as I compete against the internet... like I really care.  Oh, I wonder what it says about me?

"Yvonne:  signifying longevity and resilience, it has become less common in recent times, though it still retains a classic elegance."  

And with that, I end this.  My love is always with you, and I am very appreciative 

of your visits and comments.  

Fall Field Cricket (Gryllus pennsylvanicus)

Missing a bit of the bottom of its wings.

Allium vineale - wild garlic

Walkway for runoff of rain water into the lower level of the prairie area.

Penstemon digitalis

For over thirty years, 

the Winterberry to the right of this obelisk 

has grown larger and exerts pressure, so it is leaning.

Hummingbirds are always seen visiting this native, Clematis viorna

 

Eastern Bottlebrush Grass, Elymus hystrix

Eastern Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea

Hibiscus grandiflorus, Swamp Rose-mallow

Juvenile Gray Tree Frog (Hyla versicolor)

on a Swamp Rose-mallow leaf.

It is so small that it originally looked like a tiny piece of leaf 

on top of a leaf deep in the leaf cover.

I used my phone to magnify it, so I could make out what it was.

I was hoping it was a frog, and was delighted to find it to be a frog.

Hibiscus Sawfly caterpillar

Three caterpillars eating away on a hibiscus leaf.

Daylily "Green Eyes Wink"

The Case of the Murdered Lettuce

There once was a lady named Yvonne,

who planted a lettuce patch to fill her meals with salads.

Vic, was a guy with good intentions, 

but you know what is always said about "good intentions", 

don't you?

Vic watered the patch lightly 

(or so he says)'

and all three rows of different types of lettuce seeds

mingled as they miraculously floated to the top of the 

bountiful amount of water standing there.   

Soil was added to cover the seeds once again, then forgotten.

Yvonne was pleasantly pleased, on one of her walks,

to find a raised bed full of baby lettuce seedlings scattered about.

The next day she was

 shocked!

Did I say shocked?!? 

Well, I really mean shocked!!! 

to find only three tiny seedlings left.

Vic came to mind immediately, 

as she fumed with great disappointment.

When questioned, 

he pulled the "weeds" to help her out.

Tsk, tsk, tsk...

Bad Boy.

Joe Pye Weed leaves unfurling.

Flatid Planthopper, Flatormenis spp.

When the last cluster of leaves unfurl, the flower buds are revealed.

Bumblebee on Coralberry, Symphoricarpos orbiculatus

with its tiny flowers.

Bumblebees move fast searching among the flowers.  

I find them difficult to photograph.

This one was always on the opposite side of the plant.

Then it took off.

This is what 2oo wing beats per second look like 

when I take a photo.

A thinking bumblebee.

Would left be better than right?

Nah...

Or maybe yes...

Dang it!  Didn't move to the other side of the stem fast enough.

Blackhaw Viburnum berry.

Saturday's Critters