A Little Bit of Magic

 

The Journey

Their home was a place of no expectations, unparticular in an ordinary way, and although she was soft in a way that made one want to protect her, it was not to her liking.
 
She mused about the simplicity of its existence, how it was void of anything that was remotely her.  She couldn’t stand it.  One might say she hated it, but her feelings were more complex than that.  It reaches back to a childhood where one lived in a home with unpainted walls, and incomplete flooring.

What followed was a journey into the trials and tribulations of a dream she embraced and one he found challenging to accept.  She removed wallpaper from the kitchen and dining room walls; wallpaper that didn’t want to be removed, so in the process she was then cumbered with the task of repairing the drywall, spackling and sanding, then two coats of thick latex paint.
 
It nearly killed her, or so she thought, when it took a month to recover from a sinus infection caused by not wearing the respirator she had no clue about.  She had, after all, followed what she remembered as a child watching her dad building onto their home, and it was so totally inadequate.

Sometime around six months later it was complete, including stenciling outlining the walls and ceiling.  It was a silent celebration for her amid her tiredness of a husband’s endless complaints of the inconvenience put upon him.

The refinishing of the rest of the interior of her home was squeezed into the quiet times of her days.  Since it was a period of time when she was unemployed, she agreed to do all the housework and yard work, although when he told her she earned no points for doing his laundry, she left the task as his.  Later when she found employment he left the housework and yard work as still hers.

 She added flowery drapes to the sliding glass doors of the dining room and it made her heaven complete.  Each time she walks into her pale moss green kitchen with its blue accents, she is transported back into the countryside she loves.
 
While It was always in her nature to stick with the job until finished, she did struggle with the vastness of it.  She never wanted to be thought of as anything but perfect in these endeavors; to leave a mark of professionalism, and she always did.

Sometime in all this living of hers, she managed to repair the walls of the foyer and hallway and paint them.  The fireplace was stenciled, as were the walls of the two bedrooms and writing room after they were repainted; soothing pale aqua for the bedrooms, and a very light Victorian pink for her writing room.

The creation and management of her wildlife garden while still tasked with all yard work and housework and meal preparation, while working an eight-hour job with two hours of drive time attached, and pet care… well, on one ordinary day of no significance she quietly reached her breaking point and let go of the dream.
 
The living room was left untouched, as was his bathroom.  The main bathroom, the one she called her own, still stands today as a memorial to that fateful day when she lost the will to forge on by herself.
    
Blistering paint on both sides of the door, one wall of removed wallpaper waiting to be spackled and sanded, a second wall waiting to be stripped of wallpaper, and a third wall painted a lovely color of “milk and sugar” she applied prior to her loss of faith and hope.
 
The time came when a bathtub was too difficult for her, and it was replaced by a Cadillac of a shower too deluxe for its shabby surroundings.  It reminds, like a bad joke, that her life is anything but perfect.

She's stuck in time, a prisoner in the void of not knowing what to do.  She reached for the stars, and over decades of hanging on for dear life, her star's blaze dimed and faded into oblivion.  The emptiness hangs around her like sinking into quick sand.
  
She's an old soul living in a modern world; a relic of time long passed.  She will, at some point in her remaining years, embrace the ground she stands upon, and leave the stars for the younger.  It's in her nature to find the extraordinary in any ordinary day, and her curiosity will always lead the way.
  
Her legacy is simple. She is the magic of life.  Wildflower meadows, deep conversations, raindrops on leaves, old books and soft music, autumn among hardwood trees, warm hugs and sweet kisses, sunrises in the desert, quiet mornings with tea, light beams through clouds, lightning bugs at sunset, full moon high up, ice rings around Saturn, swirl of a galaxy - they all live in her soul and her soul in them.

We stood in a garden...

Where kempt and unkempt kissed one another,

Where Red Ragged-Robins laughed at Rhododendrons...

    ~D.C.L.D., "In the Garden", Castalian Splashes

Long haired white caterpillar - Hyphantria cunea, I think.

Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) with Carpenter Bee

Allium vineale, commonly known as wild garlic

Some type of bowl shaped mushroom, maybe 4" wide.  

It grew up through the mulch and still has mulch on top.

Flatormenis proxima,

 known generally as the northern flatid planthopper 

or mealy flatid planthopper

Wild Bergamot, Monarda fistulosa, also called bee balm 

with Bumblebee and Carpenter Bees.

Yellow Garden Orbweaver, Arblope aurantia

I think the top spider is the male.

A moth has been caught in the web, 

and the female spider is wrapping it in the same silk

she produces to spin the web. 

Above her is another insect that had been caught earlier,

wrapped in silk, and is being stored until she eats.

Brown-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia triloba)

Sweet Pepperbush (Clethra alnifolia)

Licorice fragrance

I think the bug is Plagiognathus arbustorum, a plant feeder, 

and a predator of small insects

Echinacea purpurea, Eastern Purple Coneflower

with a Leafcutter Bee, Megachile Latreille

carrying pollen on its abdomen.

Wild petunia, Ruellia humilis

 By the afternoon or early evening, 

the fused petals and attached stamens 

detach from the base of the flower.

 As the corolla tube slips off, it slides down 

the persistent style before dropping to the ground 

or getting caught in the calyx lobes.

I'm not sure, maybe a Lilium speciosum or a similar hybrid.

The Asilidae are a family in the order Diptera, the true flies,

also called Robber or Assassin Flies.

Phlox paniculata 'Jeana'

Hibiscus moscheutos, Swamp Rose Mallow

Ptilothrix bombiformis

Hibiscus Bee or Rose-mallow Bee

or

Bumblebee

They both look almost alike.

Wild petunia, Ruellia humilis

Hosta (Blue leaf type)

The two plants are now four 

and much larger with all the rain.

Yellow-collared scape moth (Cisseps fulvicollis)

Lucilia illustris is a metallic, shiny blow fly 

that visits flowers like bee balm (Monarda) to feed on nectar. 

While primarily known as scavengers, 

the adults require sugars for energy and females need protein 

(often from pollen) to mature their eggs.

This late morning has been full of robin chatter among the heat that is on the verge of becoming stifling hot.  Lounging on the deck has become a peaceful way to pause from the drudgery of life and enjoy the small moments that all too frequently become overlooked.

It is a space of occasional small flies and black mosquitos, so I do not want for company.  Afternoon thunderstorms never disappoint by skipping a day, and that has created a luxuriance of wildness bordering on chaotic in the garden.

I’m looking at Issue 17 of bella GRACE FIELD GUIDE to Everyday Magic.  Upon the receipt of this issue, I was let down by so many prompts wanting pen to paper answers.  It’s not a magazine I normally would purchase, yet here I am with my very own copy.  It is quite thick on sturdy paper and I have torn out parts of pages, ear marked lots of pages, and abused it quite liberally, although I rarely write in it.  So, even if not as intended, I do get much use out of it.

The permission slip for ordinary magic suggests side effects may be softer days, and an increased appreciation for ordinary moments.  So I will be a Keeper of Small Wonders.  My path is set but being a person whose mind runs wild with over thinking and self-doubt, I promise nothing.

Slowing down my mind is like trying to stop an avalanche in mid descent.  As I become a bit more mindful, I have noticed that I’m a pistachio binge eater.  I trust you didn’t laugh at the frivolousness of thinking about a little nut.

It’s a big deal if one finds themselves eating what is considered eighteen servings, all in one afternoon.  I shell and pop those little nuggets of goodness into my mouth, one on top of the other, until I am chewing six of them in all stages of doneness before swallowing.

Pistachios are now reserved for quality time breaks: eyes resting, soft music in the background, Austin snuggled onto my lap, and one pistachio out of the bag, shelled, and into my mouth.  It’s a savored moment enjoying the texture and taste while I am in my quiet place dancing through wildflower meadows towards the sound of a babbling brook.  I could stay here forever.

You might have guessed, that by now, I am no longer outside, as it seems to have become Satan’s furnace in all its glory.  I’ve included this AI Overview, as even though I have used the term since youth, it seems I did not actually understand what was happening.

Rolling thunder refers to a continuous, deep, and rumbling sound rather than a single explosive crack. It happens when lightning strikes over a long distance, and atmospheric echoes or "temperature inversions" trap the sound waves and bounce them back and forth between the ground and the sky.

Sounds exciting doesn’t it.  These fascinating storms must be respected, for they are a powerful force of nature.  In my Reno, Nevada days, I would stand at the double window in my bedroom and watch the thunderstorms come over the mountain tops and down into town.  The lightening show was more  spectacular than any fireworks could be.

I’ll end this lighthearted writing, sending good vibes and warm thoughts your way while I sit in my cozy arm chair that loves me so much and enjoy the rolling rumbles of thunder as yet another storm approaches.  Stay cozy and give yourself permission to savor the small wonders all around you in life.

My bit of magic ~

Charlotte and Austin

This Post is Linked To:

Saturday's Critters

Spuds Roasting in the Hot Coals

Ligated Furrow Bees (Halictus ligatus), on Rudbeckia hirta, 

are a common species of sweat bee 

known for burrowing into the ground to create their nests.

Black Eyed Susans among the seed heads of Clematis viorna

We all are spuds roasting in the hot coals,

on any given southern summer day.

Midsummer noontide in a sky of brass:
The sun like flame licks at the blistered earth,
And shrivels up the blades of withering grass...
~John Gould Fletcher, "Midsummer Love"

It's so hot I put everything off. 

Hot weather is the mother of procrastination. 

My energy is at ebb tide. I'm getting caloricly stupid. 

Tried to read... 

Mind stumbled on a ponderous perioration 

and fell in between two paragraphs 

and lay unconscious for

 ten minutes. 

~Thomas Edison

There is a time when each life on this planet dies.

Neotibicen tibicen, swamp or morning cicadas

Often times called an annual cicada, 

but all cicadas need multiple years to develop underground, 

so their annual reappearance is presumably due to overlapping generations.  

Hosta 'Halcyon'

Hibiscus Sawfly, Atomacera decepta

Only about 1/4 to 1/3 the size of the larva.

Green Planthopper, Siphanta acuta, a true bug.

Swamp Mallow seed pods opening up to drop seed.

Hibiscus moscheutos

The original swamp-rose mallows grown were a very pale pink, 

but seeds falling onto the ground inside the container 

and sprouting vary in color.  

This is biodiversity, 

in that instead of cloning a plant to make a duplicate, 

one plants the seed, 

and gets an individual seedling with it's own personality.  

Here I am; not out on my lovely deck being needled to death by mosquitoes, but indoors in the quiet of husband with headphones on watching television, and I, listening to the moans and groans of a new refrigerator that sounds more and more everyday like my husband’s stomach after a questionable meal.

I just finished off a bowl of egg salad shoveled into my mouth by Milton’s Original Multi-grain Gourmet Crackers. I’m chasing that awful taste down with an almond butter and blueberry topped cracker for dessert, along with a cup of steaming hot Irish Breakfast Tea with a scant teaspoon of orange blossom honey stirred in.  A beautiful dinner made possible by a husband who does all of the grocery shopping.

The next morning -

Lost in sleep this morning, I came too late to dawn’s early party filled with bird songs and cicadas outrageous.  The sun in all its glory has already blanketed me in this insufferable heat, and while warm afternoons bring in a bountiful amount of rainstorms, they usually last but a short time and then are gone.

The Liatris standing tall with blooms in the deck flowerpot are visited regularly by bumblebees and those smaller bees impossible to identify with the naked eye.  Worried, after losing three potted Spicebushes last year, that I no longer had a male one to pollinate the others; I am happy to announce that three bushes are with berries, and one is all leaves and therefore the male.

I can see that the old Blackhaw Viburnums near the back fence are laden with green berries that are already in their creamy white stage, before turning blue, and then dark blue.  Birds and small mammals visiting will begin eating them way before the small trees are graced with dark blue.

It’s to be expected when surrounded with human activity, that any day of the week will contain its share of annoying noises and today is no exception.  My husband says a tree is being cut down several houses over, and what I hear is most likely the chipper.  Maybe an Ash Tree… we have lost so many in the neighborhood these past several years.

And now the garbage truck makes its Friday rounds, and of course the cars that are always on the road one house over… back and forth, back and forth, back and… well you know the drill.  One never escapes human created noise until way past midnight.

I was thinking about this very topic as I got into my bed last night; well, to be truthful, this morning is more accurate.  I know, I should get a more meaningful life, but it is what it is.  Anyway, as the crow flies, I could hear a freight train clickety clacking on the tracks about five miles away, and it felt like it was only a few houses down the block.

My husband is graciously watering the patio potted plants, while my nemesis, tiny flies at the breakfast table, are out in full force.  I have found something just as annoying as those blood sucking mosquitoes.  Isn’t nature devine?

The beautyberry, planted by some unknown entity, most likely a bird; is in its happy place.  It has grown tremendously into a beast of a bush, probably fueled on by the dirty water of the bird bath when hosed out each day.  It is a formidable creature to be reckoned with when trying to enter the space.

Its neighbor, the Brown-eyed Susans that have escaped our pruners, are blooming profusely, and fill the green space with loveliness.

Tall towering clouds are beginning to encroach into the mellow blueness of the summer sky, and beyond the south corner of the garden, one sees a sheet of grey at play.  I think this is my signal, that I have been waiting for, to end this journal of today, and leave it as is.

I have yet to see the mosquitoes, but perhaps they are a bit smarter than me and are waiting for nightfall for that lovely first drink of blood.  Since the flies require three sets of hands to keep at bay, and alas I have only two hands to enter into this game of a losing situation, I’ll throw in the towel and vamoose.

Wouldn’t you know it.  A Bluejay later to the party than me.  His bad.

Above - Heuchera americana, American Alumroot

in planters on the deck, since the garden ones don't last long.

Species Camponotus chromaiodes - Ferruginous Carpenter Ant

The larger ant on the left is about 1/2 inch long.

It looked huge compared to the other ant, and I believe it is a worker ant.

These ants are common in the eastern part of the states.

These two were on the Dogwood Tree near the White Ash tree stump.

Away from the home in a natural setting, 

carpenter ants can be seen as part of the natural balance.

In a landscaped native garden close to a home,

a cautious approach is needed to manage their populations.

Look at those jaws!  Amazing!

This rather large Tiger Bee Fly (Xenos tigrinus)

looks menacing by its fast erratic behaviour when flying.

It is harmless. 

Bee flies are known as parasitoids, 

meaning their larvae develop by feeding on the larvae of other insects, 

including bees and wasps.

Blazing Star, Liatris Spicata, with friend

Fowler's Toad (Anaxyrus fowleri)

Eating ants living in the rain garden area.

We spotted a smaller one on the deck steps.

It jumped under the steps when I moved close to it.

Bumblebees on Wild Bergamot

 

Bumblebees with long tongues drinking all that nectar from the 

trumpet shaped flowers on the Monarda fistulosa, Wild Bergamot

Is that dang lady with the camera gone yet?

I need to go!

Charlotte & Austin

Bored, bored, bored...

Sleeping with this big guy is like sleeping under a sack of potatoes.

Umpf...

This Post is Linked To:

Saturday's Critters