Hello, Maypop!
Twas in the merry month of June, I was driving home from...somewhere, and spied what I thought looked beguilingly like the cover of the River Oaks Garden Club's fantastic book, A Garden Book for Houston, and it turned out, yes, to actually be...
Garden heroes of all stripes
As the over 90-temps approach, I found I've lost the gardening schedule I kept up during the Fall, Winter, and Spring. Now, we have to take considerable care to snatch whatever narrow window we have when the humidity is low, the death star doesn't beat down on us, or the mosquitoes don't use us as their all-you-can-eat.
I made the adjustment this morning, digging up a hole big enough to be the future home of Retama, the Jerusalem Thorn tree. More on that in a bit.
For now, I can't help but notice how very alive the garden is - with heroes and foes, mind, but it's the heroes I want to pay particular attention to today. Restoring landscape sustainably will invite them back, too, so we hope that they will indeed, take care of any foes we see in the garden.
In the garden, it becomes so clear: the fights directed outwardly are mere reflections of the same fights directed towards the self. There is an alternative. There must be!
Perspective is important. Trying to "think as Nature would" is necessary. Out there, nothing is wasted. No life is worthless, and there's a place for all who are charged with surviving. And here are some of the beautyful "alls" I've had the Grace to see recently.
[caption id="attachment_764" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Sage, August, and Blue.[/caption]
We are blessed to live in a place frequented by herons and egrets. These blue creatures sometimes land (rather awkwardly, might I add?) on the street side of our houses, and walk slowly, delicately, purposefully along the sidewalk. Strolling along the pavement for dinner at dusk.
Then there is this very amusing Native relative:
[caption id="attachment_765" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Still life with Squirrel and Finches.[/caption]
That little rat and her/his avian friends remind me that I feed them - not for my pleasure (solely), but for their sake as well. All good. Everyone needs to eat.
But soft, what light from yonder window breaks?
I see this and I think: Ancestor! Dragon! Fairy Chariot! They fly, and settle, and fly, and settle again, sometimes perching on the tops of the green onions.
[caption id="attachment_767" align="alignnone" width="625"]
A scallion with wings. Will you take to flying away now, and plant your white roots elsewhere?[/caption]
But this isn't a magical moment from all perspectives; I'm standing about a foot away from this Dragonfly, and can hear quite the crunch it's making with its beautiful jaws as it lunches on someone that used to be, before lunch time. My magical moment is rather a sharp and painful one for that other creature.
Far more benign is this little, industrious, formidable friend:
[caption id="attachment_769" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Red salvia looks like fun to forage from.[/caption]
Whose companions are equally photogenic:
[caption id="attachment_775" align="alignnone" width="625"]
There's work to be done - and don't they know it.[/caption]
Or this dizzying companion to flowers:
[caption id="attachment_770" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Called: Gulf Fritillary. Or, simply: Beautiful[/caption]
At every turn, there's someone alive doing something to stay alive.
And being part of a plan is what makes all of this so beautiful.
There may be suffering, but there is no damage that cannot be undone.
Would that we animals could learn a thing or two from all of this.
Call me morbid, but I should love to be buried, in the dirt, in a field I know will always be unsullied by human hands. Becoming a part of a wildflower, visited by one of just these sorts of bumbeleebees or becoming a part of a leaf sat upon by a baby anole: I can't think of a better way to spend the afterlife. Can you?
A wise old owl // lived in an oak //
The more he saw // the less he spoke //
The less he spoke // the more he heard //
Why can't we be like that wise old bird?
See you in Arcadia!
I made the adjustment this morning, digging up a hole big enough to be the future home of Retama, the Jerusalem Thorn tree. More on that in a bit.
For now, I can't help but notice how very alive the garden is - with heroes and foes, mind, but it's the heroes I want to pay particular attention to today. Restoring landscape sustainably will invite them back, too, so we hope that they will indeed, take care of any foes we see in the garden.
In the garden, it becomes so clear: the fights directed outwardly are mere reflections of the same fights directed towards the self. There is an alternative. There must be!
Perspective is important. Trying to "think as Nature would" is necessary. Out there, nothing is wasted. No life is worthless, and there's a place for all who are charged with surviving. And here are some of the beautyful "alls" I've had the Grace to see recently.
[caption id="attachment_764" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Sage, August, and Blue.[/caption]We are blessed to live in a place frequented by herons and egrets. These blue creatures sometimes land (rather awkwardly, might I add?) on the street side of our houses, and walk slowly, delicately, purposefully along the sidewalk. Strolling along the pavement for dinner at dusk.
Then there is this very amusing Native relative:
[caption id="attachment_765" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Still life with Squirrel and Finches.[/caption]That little rat and her/his avian friends remind me that I feed them - not for my pleasure (solely), but for their sake as well. All good. Everyone needs to eat.
But soft, what light from yonder window breaks?
I see this and I think: Ancestor! Dragon! Fairy Chariot! They fly, and settle, and fly, and settle again, sometimes perching on the tops of the green onions.
[caption id="attachment_767" align="alignnone" width="625"]
A scallion with wings. Will you take to flying away now, and plant your white roots elsewhere?[/caption]
But this isn't a magical moment from all perspectives; I'm standing about a foot away from this Dragonfly, and can hear quite the crunch it's making with its beautiful jaws as it lunches on someone that used to be, before lunch time. My magical moment is rather a sharp and painful one for that other creature.
Far more benign is this little, industrious, formidable friend:
[caption id="attachment_769" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Red salvia looks like fun to forage from.[/caption]Whose companions are equally photogenic:
[caption id="attachment_775" align="alignnone" width="625"]
There's work to be done - and don't they know it.[/caption]Or this dizzying companion to flowers:
[caption id="attachment_770" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Called: Gulf Fritillary. Or, simply: Beautiful[/caption]At every turn, there's someone alive doing something to stay alive.
And being part of a plan is what makes all of this so beautiful.
There may be suffering, but there is no damage that cannot be undone.
Would that we animals could learn a thing or two from all of this.
Call me morbid, but I should love to be buried, in the dirt, in a field I know will always be unsullied by human hands. Becoming a part of a wildflower, visited by one of just these sorts of bumbeleebees or becoming a part of a leaf sat upon by a baby anole: I can't think of a better way to spend the afterlife. Can you?
A wise old owl // lived in an oak //
The more he saw // the less he spoke //
The less he spoke // the more he heard //
Why can't we be like that wise old bird?
See you in Arcadia!
Gardening in June...
...We're batting down the hatches with lots of mulch for the plants (thank you, neighbors and your raked up oak leaves, which we went about collecting in the Winter and early Spring). My better half is discovering that he must stoop so low and buy a gardening hat. Right now he makes do with a towel. What can I say? In our burgeoning quest to turn our boring suburban garden into a cottage garden that invites the re-creation of a healthy garden ecosystem, we delight in colour - Cool colours here:
Sweet lil somethin's
Two sweets and two carrots:
[caption id="attachment_732" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Two of a few carrots we'll likely harvest this year![/caption]
One lovely brother Anole, perhaps a relative of Kermit:
Here's hoping you visit Arcadia today and always!
[caption id="attachment_732" align="alignnone" width="625"]
Two of a few carrots we'll likely harvest this year![/caption]One lovely brother Anole, perhaps a relative of Kermit:
Here's hoping you visit Arcadia today and always!
Butterfly birth!
We can't say we saw the entire mystery of their birth from start to finish. They landed, as Fate would have it, on the butterfly bush, and ate every single leaf off of that plant.
There were eight of them.
But then, as suddenly as they had appeared...
...they disappeared.
We thought they had packed up their hobo bags for greener pastures.
Until today, when, purely by chance, we found one, looking rather different from our last encounter:
I swear I had watered that amaryllis nearly everyday this past week and never saw that magical little butterfly in her golden castle, not even once.
Before we could figure out logistics to get a plate of fruit out for this marvellous creature, s/he had flown up to the gutter, rested and stretched for a half minute, and then taken off - paddling in the air, until we couldn't see any longer.
Best birthday ever. Happy birthday, monarch.
There were eight of them.
But then, as suddenly as they had appeared...
...they disappeared.
We thought they had packed up their hobo bags for greener pastures.
Until today, when, purely by chance, we found one, looking rather different from our last encounter:
I swear I had watered that amaryllis nearly everyday this past week and never saw that magical little butterfly in her golden castle, not even once.
Before we could figure out logistics to get a plate of fruit out for this marvellous creature, s/he had flown up to the gutter, rested and stretched for a half minute, and then taken off - paddling in the air, until we couldn't see any longer.
Best birthday ever. Happy birthday, monarch.
May Blooms
In order to avoid the apparent exasperation my better half of 11 years seems to feel with my forgetfulness, I'm using this blog to document what's blooming when. Spring is such an exciting time - especially this spring, as we've had such true, spring-like weather. I rather like to think that Winter found Spring - and they started chatting - and Winter decided that s/he really didn't want to leave...but something finally convinced her. Maybe the Sun.
So. Here's what's in bloom in early May at the Coahuila Garden: Paradise is! Our infinitesimally small bit of it, anyway. In the fruit and veg. (err, and legume) department, you'd never guess what these classic little black and white flirts are:
No idea? Fava bean flowers! Remember them little plants (scroll down)? Who would have thought these flowers would be so very simple and yet completely marvellous?
Sugar snap peas have been growing strong:
And the pomegranate is covered in bright waxy reds reminiscent of Christmas:
Elsewhere, we have some wild and free things doing their thing, so beautifully, in the back corner by the Gate to Elsewhere:
Lantana's about to launch into months and months of flowers:
Oh Dill. We do heart you, and we hope the insects will, too!
We picked up a few of these hybrid Gaillardia plants on sale at Lowe's. They've been a bit thirsty of late, but that might be just because they're not used to where they're at. Grand and sweet things:
Out front, in the courtyard, the Lenten Rose is still holding on to its spent blooms, with just one tiny one poking through the base of one of the two plants:
Jacobinia, a new plant for us, is starting to show us what's what:
After acclimating to her new environment, the Mexican Flame Vine is starting to do fancy fancy here, along one of the front courtyard walls:
Just like a little prayer to the sun:
Just outside the courtyard, African Iris is still blooming:
Tiny nasturtiums suddenly started to bloom a few weeks ago:
Here's one of my tiny favourite places, with wild pink Oxalis and Salvia in the front bed:
The pink guara we bought from Cornelius Nursery seems to be doing well here, too, teeny though she still is:
I saved my favourite for last. Beneath the (Texas native) Bald Cypres tree in the back is a bed of Blue-black salvias. More than just colour, which is striking in and of itself, look at how delicate and graceful the stalks are:
And then -
I hope you find your way to Arcadia today!
So. Here's what's in bloom in early May at the Coahuila Garden: Paradise is! Our infinitesimally small bit of it, anyway. In the fruit and veg. (err, and legume) department, you'd never guess what these classic little black and white flirts are:
No idea? Fava bean flowers! Remember them little plants (scroll down)? Who would have thought these flowers would be so very simple and yet completely marvellous?
Sugar snap peas have been growing strong:
And the pomegranate is covered in bright waxy reds reminiscent of Christmas:
Elsewhere, we have some wild and free things doing their thing, so beautifully, in the back corner by the Gate to Elsewhere:
Lantana's about to launch into months and months of flowers:
Oh Dill. We do heart you, and we hope the insects will, too!
We picked up a few of these hybrid Gaillardia plants on sale at Lowe's. They've been a bit thirsty of late, but that might be just because they're not used to where they're at. Grand and sweet things:
Out front, in the courtyard, the Lenten Rose is still holding on to its spent blooms, with just one tiny one poking through the base of one of the two plants:
Jacobinia, a new plant for us, is starting to show us what's what:
After acclimating to her new environment, the Mexican Flame Vine is starting to do fancy fancy here, along one of the front courtyard walls:
Just like a little prayer to the sun:
Just outside the courtyard, African Iris is still blooming:
Tiny nasturtiums suddenly started to bloom a few weeks ago:
Here's one of my tiny favourite places, with wild pink Oxalis and Salvia in the front bed:
The pink guara we bought from Cornelius Nursery seems to be doing well here, too, teeny though she still is:
I saved my favourite for last. Beneath the (Texas native) Bald Cypres tree in the back is a bed of Blue-black salvias. More than just colour, which is striking in and of itself, look at how delicate and graceful the stalks are:
And then -
I hope you find your way to Arcadia today!
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