The NSAC Rock Garden

Here's a little 'eye candy' or 'gardenporn' from the NSAC Rock Garden in Truro. A few of these photos are from earlier times of the season.


One of these years I hope to have a thyme walkway, but in the meantime, I'll enjoy the one that wends through the Rock Garden.


Trough gardens are something I'm just starting to get into. I love the delicate textures and colours of the plants, although this platycodon isn't what you'd call subtle, is it?


I do not know what sedum this is. I intend to find out and get one for our garden. The foliage colours are subtle, moreso than some of the purple or variegated ones, and the flowers I would call soft yellow--as opposed to the usual brilliant yellow of some of the creeping types, or the flaming hot pink of some of the tall species and cultivars. Whatever it is, I WANT!


I can't find in my notes just how many tons of rock were brought in to create the topography of the rock garden, but it was an impressive amount. This was always a hillside, sloping down from some of the campus classroom and admin buildings towards the farm, but it was grassed with some trees and shrubs and a few plots of annuals in my day. This has all been built in less than five years, too!


There is always something in bloom throughout the gardening months, that's for sure! I love the rich colours of the dianthus and veronicas.


This courtyard features a number of trough gardens, a crevasse garden, a lovely pergola and places to sit and dream.


Taken earlier in the season, with lots of brilliant colour and texture among the boulders and pea gravel.


Matching planters grace the entryway to Cumming Hall, the administration building and home to Alumni Theatre. I spent a lot of time in this building back in my day, studying in empty classrooms or looking at the class portraits from graduating classes of years gone by.


This dish garden of succulents stopped me dead in my tracks when I saw it, and an instant flush of plant-lust came over me. Succulents really appeal because of their unique shapes, colourations and just tidy ways of growing. I have to confess that mine have suffered over the past few months, through benign neglect--but I will make amends!


If memory serves correctly, this is an Echeveria species in flower. I love the subtle colours around the flowers, don't you?


This might be a naughty species of ladybird beetle. I don't know--but I got a great charge out of watching it delicately nibbling the edge of a leaf.


If I'd been thinking, I would have set something down beside this plant to show the size of its leaves, which are, in a word, minute; each leaf is about the size of the head of a pin. In fact, my first look at this dish garden I didn't even notice this succulent, and if you go back and look at the photo of the whole dishgarden you'll see why. And if you click on this one to enlarge, you'll see an oxalis leaf among the plant, so that gives you some scale too.

And this entry shows just one more reason why I love plants--the huge variation in colours, forms, textures, sizes, etc just keeps me appreciating, and learning, more about these marvelous organisms. I hope you enjoyed this little trip to the Rock Garden too!

Aggies Once, Aggies Twice....

I was supposed to be a veterinarian.

It's true. The plan was to go do two years of pre-veterinary (the first two years of a B.Sc.in Agriculture) at the Nova Scotia Agricultural College (also known as NSAC), then be off to Ontario Veterinary College at Guelph. I had scholarships, was really good in biology and a few other subjects, and thought it was all going to be just as planned.

Well. Things don't always work out as planned, do they? I hit an obstacle called Calculus. It might as well have been Russian. Heck, I would have done better in Russian, no doubt. After failing to grasp the concepts of calculus not once, but twice, I conceded defeat, and switched to plant science.

It's probably just as well. I would have ended up bankrupt but with seven thousand, four hundred and fifty seven cats, a couple of dozen (nice) dogs, eight hundred and twenty three rescued horses, and an iguana or two, no doubt. (No goats, and definitely no miniature horses, though. These things are just annoying.)

So I did plant science, worked in agriculture for a while, did some other stuff, got married, had child, blah blah blah muffin, then went to Acadia just because it was nearby. Collected two degrees from there in English, and somehow along the way started writing in earnest. And getting paid for it. Oh, and of course gardening my butt off. The rest, as they say, is history. I'm still proud to be an Aggie--and still remember our absurd (and rude) cheer.

Click on all photos to enlarge for detail and colour)
Yesterday being gardeners mental health day, we headed off on a little road trip, and since we hadn't been to Truro in a while, went to AC to check out the gardens there. First we went to the Alumni gardens for a look around. The college colours are blue and gold and while that bed IS winding down, there were still some late-summer blue-and-gold flowers happening. I love the big round courtyard, with bandstand/gazebo, and the long sprawling bed of perennials beside it.

In the blue-and-gold border, we found Inula that impressed even us. We have it here, and it has grown to about 6 feet but with some shade. Here's what it does in full sun! My long-suffering spouse is six feet tall. The inula is somewhat taller than he is.



There's a lovely quad garden with four separate sections, and a lot of herbs, some clipped box and evergreens and lavender; and this amazing woven fence. They've obviously just replaced it as there's a pile of saplins laying nearby.


One of the conifers I don't yet have (one of many, but one I really want) is the Korean Fir. It's a beautiful thing all year long, and then there are its cones, which are shades of purple and blue.


This was growing alongside the big pergola in the upper part of the Alumni Gardens. I've never seen it before--anyone know what it is? (this is obviously my week of mystery plants.)

Across the road, we went to the NSAC Rock Garden. Completed last summer after about 4 years of work, it's my favourite garden in the province (even more than my own). There are gazillions of choice plants there and you know what? I don't know what a lot of them are! And that's delightfully exciting, because it just means that there are all kinds of things that I can still try here in my own garden--when I have room, of course!


I mentioned in an earlier post that I love conifers, and here's a good reason why. A collection of lovely healthy trees and shrubs in a range of colours and textures. Some of these were already here when Dr. Bernard Jackson (who was formerly at MUN Botanical Garden in Newfoundland) began his labour of love along with the Friends of the Garden and help from the hort. crew and students at AC. I forget how many tons of rock were brought in and how much earth was moved to create this--but it's a masterpiece and worth a trip to Truro anytime you're in the mood.


This is part one of my postings on AC; because there are so many photos to show, and I have to dig up some from earlier in the season to further colour things for you all. What I really love is the contrasting sizes and shapes and textures. We have huge, mature hardwoods and conifers, then there are trough gardens with loonie- and nickel-sized plants some sort of alpine/succulent, and I don't know what it is--but I love the textures here!


I got very excited when I saw this shrub--it's a witch hazel, Hamamelis, and I don't know if it's a cultivar or the native--BECAUSE SOME IDIOTS KEEP STEALING THE NAMETAGS FROM PLANTS IN A PUBLIC GARDEN!!!--yes, that was a mini rant. Whew. Anyway, I went home and looked at MY Hamamelis and told it I hoped it was planning to turn such marvelous colours too. I am assuming this is a countdown to autumn foliage change. We all know it's coming....

Part two after I finish another deadline that's urgent.....

The Bee-loud garden

Thursday morning after I'd caught up on sleep, I went out to inspect the garden. Sunlight had warmed everything and I was delighted by the many sounds of buzzing. Not just from divebombing hummingbirds, stuffing themselves on nectar and feeder-juice, but from bees. Both honey bees and native bumbles, etc were indulging in collecting nectar and pollen from bee balm, daylilies, coneflowers, and oh yes, the still blooming poppies. There were six bees in this poppy when I started to focus, but a few were camera shy and left!


Cimicifuga (or Actaea, depending on who's doing the labelling) is a glorious plant. It doesn't even have to flower, but it does, and it does it late in the season; none of ours, including this 'Black Negligee' have flowered yet; we also have 'Atropurpurea' and 'Pink Spike'. All are about to bloom, though.


Put on your crocks or other sloggers, now, and come along with me on a tour of the garden. Some photos are from this morning, when we were bathed in fog; others from this afternoon as the fog gave way to sunshine. This is part of the back border, where we have coneflowers, daylilies, phlox, teasels, and an assortment of other things still blooming merrily--and even some yet to come; butterfly bush (buddleia), fall asters, and helenium are yet to take the stage.


Oh, I do ADORE blue flowers, and gentians especially tickle my fancy. While the willow-gentian isn't in bloom yet, this showoff is doing just fine; it's G. septemfida, possibly a variant or cultivar, but it's doing the LoLa routine.


Currently, the butterfly/sunset/memory garden is awash in all kinds of rudbeckias, from the politely clumping Goldstrum to the rowdily self seeding nameless one, to a big clump of 'Herbstsonne' (that I thought had died, but that turned out to be something else that expired!). The hot colours are cooled down by the massive clump of flat sea holly (Eryngium planun) and a chorus of bee balm and lavatera in shades of rose, pink and magenta.


I know I've posted photos of masterworts (Astrantia) before, but this plant is becoming a definite favourite. Though the two that I bought and planted this year are finished flowering, this one, which has been in for a year or two, is still blooming like crazy. Something about its flowers remind me of an Escher painting, maybe because they're so mathematically complex and repetitive. Whatever, I love them.


While I was away, my longsuffering spouse worked diligently on the house, which is now over halfdone. How do you like it?


A little change of pace now, while I do my promo for foliage. This time we're focusing on evergreens, like this 'Rheingold' Cedar. It's my favourite; globular growth, lime green new foliage that turns orange-yellow as it matures, and then this amazing coppery orange colour in winter. Marvelous plant.


Although my heathers are nothing compared to those at Kingsbrae, they're growing and doing well; this is Silver Knight, with silver-green foliage to counter the lavender flowers.


We now return to our regularly scheduled bloomfest. These are 'free-range' sunflowers that volunteer themselves year after near. I didn't get around to planting the new cultivars I got, so these nicely filled in. Well, actually they got a little carried away with themselves, but sunflowers make me smile instantly, so I didn't thin them any more than necessary.


A closeup of one of the lavatera flowers; this might be Silver Cup. Or it might not be, given that it was in a flat of 6 seedlings that I transplanted out.


While I have not been at ALL impressed with the performance of Hydrangea 'Endless Summer' which has been more of an endless disappointment this year, 'Limelight' is putting on a stellar show!


Yes, I know this is plume poppy, (Macleaya cordata) and that it has aspirations of taking over. But where it is, it has to wrestle with globe thistles, monkshood, and daylilies, which tend to keep one another in check. And the fog on the flowerbuds was just too good to resist.


One of the performances just getting started: bluebeard, or caryopteris. I have two new cultivars here that I'm testing out, but this is the one I put in last year. If I can find the label, I'll confirm the cultivar, but I think it might be 'Longwood Blue'. I have Petit Bleu and Sunshine Blue getting ready to do their thing, too.


We grow clematis really, really well--I think it's the fog that keeps things cool that makes our various species and varieties go snaky. This is C. orientalis 'Golden Tiara', and i love both its flowers and its funky seedheads.


The monarch chrysalids continue to pop up in curious places; this is a section of staging that Longsuffering Spouse has used in painting; and he had hauled it up and down and all around the yard earlier in the week til he noticed this little fellow. We're still waiting for the first monarch to emerge, but a few of the chrysalids seem to be elongating and getting more translucent.

That's it for now...the deadlines are reminding me that I need to attend to them if I want to take tomorrow off! Good thing I have my supervisor, Mungus; he's now migrated from the window to snoozing in the other chair in my office, but he's keeping watch anyway.

Kingsbrae and a Review

I'm really tired tonight, so this is just a bit of a snapshot precis of Kingsbrae Garden, one of the top ten gardens in Canada--and probably in the world. No, it's not as old as Dixter, or Sissinghurst,(though it has its own white garden, above) or Butchart Gardens, perhaps; but it's a marvelous tribute to the variety that can be found growing in gardens around Atlantic Canada (with a few pushing the zone games too!)

This is a public garden with private funding from the Flemer family, who continue to support its growth in so many ways. It's a rare jewel, and my only sorrow is that it's a bit far from my home (about a 7 hour drive were I to drive all the way around) so I don't get to visit that often.
This summer is seeing something new at Kingsbrae, with a sCAREcrows Fight Hunger display and contest. There's a People's choice award to be voted upon, and my vote went to this Mercrow (complete with bycatch!)


Here are a few photos from my morning at Kingsbrae, featuring a rainbow of flowers and foliage: part of the butterfly garden,

Bright borders of perennials belie any idea of the 'August meltdown', don't they?

There is a huge perennial area, with plenty of blooms, and lots of interesting foliage texture and colour too,

The highly imaginative kitchen garden features a unique way to both grow salad crops and make an ornamental statement. Don't you just love these cabbage and lettuce containers lining the walkway?

This is part of the heaths and heathers display; while you can see something of the brilliant colour, what you CAN'T see is all the happy, happy bumblebees feasting on flowers.

One of my favourite gardens is the Blue Garden, which is presently filled with gentians; and they truly ARE gentian blue...



Tonight, in Fredericton, the capital city of New Brunswick, I got to observe the Inspection of the Guard, which takes place several times daily several days a week during the summer. The man who looks after training the 'guard' (students between the ages of 13-25) is a retired Sergeant Major; what he does is pick someone from the audience watching the review to do the inspection; in this case it was a mother with her two young sons who accompanied Joe on the inspection.


What's particularly moving about this colourful ceremony is that many of the troops just returned from Afghanistan are from Canadian Forces Base Gagetown, in nearby Oromocto; and a number of those brave young men already returned--in coffins. Fredericton and surrounding area are fiercely supportive of their troops, but so are other parts of the province, including Kingsbrae, who have this floral tribute at the gate to the garden;


Tomorrow, I'm off to Falls Brook Centre first thing in the morning, and then back to Saint John to catch the ferry back to Nova Scotia. Talk about your whirlwind trips! I may well not post tomorrow, but will catch up in the next couple of days. Glad you've been with me on this trip and enjoying my commentary--now come and visit New Brunswick (and of course us next door in Nova Scotia!)

Chocolate whales and flowers all over

Day two in my New Brunswick Excellent Adventure. I slept pretty well last night (a major accomplishment for a person with fibromyalgia and other assorted pains) and while I didn't sleep exactly sideways, I made full use of the space--and the pillows.
First stop on my adventures today was the Irving Nature Park. This is an amazing gift to the residents of Saint John and surrounding environs, by the Irving family. The company's website tells it best:

Irving Nature Park, a 600 acre (243 hectare) site, was created by J.D. Irving, Limited to help protect an environmentally significant, endangered area. This special part of the Fundy coastline, minutes from Saint John, a major urban centre of New Brunswick, is now a place where the public can enjoy and experience the various ecosystems of the Southern New Brunswick coastline.

The peninsula of volcanic rock and forest on the Bay of Fundy is swept twice daily by some of the highest tides in the world. Mud flats and salt marsh are along one side. A long sandy cobble beach is on the other. The area nurtures one of the province’s richest marine ecosystems.

The Irvings maintain the site; sending their own people in to clean up and maintain the park, patrol it...and there are even picnic sites with gas barbecue grills that families can use--not parties, just ordinary families) to cook their meals--with the propane supplied by Irving, of course. And the site IS gorgeous, and well used. Good to see that Saint Johners love their parks--they have quite a few great green spaces, including the marvelous Rockwood Park, and smaller parks throughout the city, too.


After a few misunderstandings with signage and two unneeded trips across bridges before I got in the right direction, I landed in the downtown centre of Saint John; this is where the cruise ships come in, and also where exist some unique shopping experiences, including Brunswick Square, Market Square, and the City Market. I'm not a great shopper (except for plants and books, of course) but I did roam through the areas then went outside to look around at the parks and walking areas. There are a LOT of gardens tucked in here and there, with some pretty nice perennial mixes

As well as beds of annuals, that are looking just terrific. Shirley, my affable host from Saint John Tourism, explained that the department that looks after public plantings in the city are terrifically dedicated, and that's obvious; the annuals are well deadheaded, watered and fertilized, and are still rich with all kinds of colour. The perennials include a nice mix of bloom for the whole season, and new beds have been planted near the waterfront where a new walking trail is being developed. My favourite garden story, however, is about the marigolds.


My friend Carol Matthews wrote about this for Canadian Gardening at some point, but this was new to me. Every spring, schoolchildren in Saint John plant marigold seeds, and then these are transplanted into long meridian beds along Main Street. There are several great things about this: it provides a showstopping band of colour along a very busy thoroughfare, true; but also, it teaches children about growing flowers from seed, and reconnects them in a small way with the marvels of growing things, so that they also can understand more about where our food comes from. You're never too young to learn about gardening, right?


After a fine lunch at Billy's Seafood, we were met by Deputy Mayor Michelle Hooton, who told me more about the history of the city and of its restoration projects, then graciously took me to see her courtyard garden. Many houses in Saint John front right onto sidewalks and have no front garden space to speak of, but have nice back yards which they wall off (in many cases) and plant with perennials, shrubs, and small trees, incorporating the larger trees that already exist in the downtown area. Many of the houses are made of brick, because they were built in the months and years following Saint John's Great Fire of 1877, and the architecture is wonderful to see.
We walked around a lot of the historical part of the downtown, and it was fun to see how any little bit of soil was promptly planted by homeowners or tenants. Heck, I even found a place where goutweed was a good idea--and nicely controlled by a brick wall and a cement sidewalk!

Civic pride is really obvious in this city, and it's fun to see how when one homeowner fixes up a home and plants a yard, others around the area begin to do the same.

At length, I bid my gracious hosts farewell with many thanks and set off on the hour drive to Saint Andrews 'by the Sea'. Located on Passamaquoddy Bay, this town has a history dating back to the American Revolution, when Loyalists relocated from the States to what is today Canada. St. Andrews is primarily a vacationer's paradise with many seasonal residents and visitors, lots of whale watching cruises and other recreational delights. (Golf, if you like it, which I don't, hiking, shopping, and of course, Kingsbrae Gardens, where I'm going tomorrow! So I won't tell you more about Kingsbrae right now other than it's one of my favourite public garden spaces--and one of the top ten Canadian public gardens, too!). But all of St. Andrews is a garden, in my mind.


My home away from home for this night is the magnificent Fairmont Algonquin, surely one of the jewels in the Fairmont Crown. I've stayed here several times before, and am always delighted by the incredible customer service. Everything about the Algonquin is about satisfying guests, and they do it without being ostentatious or intimidating. Look at the care package that accompanied my press kit in my suite (featuring two queen beds, a kitchenette, and a view of the grounds...)

Do not adjust your screens. That's fresh fruit, handmade chocolates, and a white chocolate whale, along with biscotti and more fresh fruit. Well. Despite the fact that I had one of the nicest meals I've enjoyed this year at the Passamaquoddy Dining Room (one of four restaurants at the Algonquin...) I don't think the whale is going to be observed on any whalewatching cruises. Nor would he survive a trip back to Nova Scotia; it's still pretty warm weather, and we don't want him to melt...

grasses, a bridge and a whirlpool tub...

Ah, this is just deliciously relaxing. King sized bed (meaning I can sleep sideways, hog all the pillows, and no one will complain. A view fit for a queen, of a garden, a beach, and a shore, with the music of the water on the rocks to lull me to sleep. And oh yes, a whirlpool to tend to the aches and pains of a gardener's decrepit body. Can it get much better?

My day started off with a drive to Greenwood, home of 14 Wing, an air force base where my father flew out of when he was in the Royal Canadian Air Force, before I was born. I wasn't visiting the Wing today, though; my first stop was at Tony Chaulk's garden. Tony has an ideal nature-lover's garden, inviting for birds and bees and butterflies of all sorts. He's especially fond of perennial grasses, and has something like forty different species and cultivars, including many I've never tried to grow--yet. He's inspiring me to, though.

Tony likes to push the zones, planting things that are marginally hardy for his part of Nova Scotia. He's doing very well at it, though; among his accomplishments are hardy fuschias, a palm, and a mimosa. He also has had Cape Fuschia overwinter, which tempts me to try to overwinter mine outdoors this year--planted out, though, not in a pot.

Tony has lots of shrubs, trees and perennials that butterflies and birds like; joe pye weed, phloxes and monardas, honeysuckles, and the very attractive ironweed. This is a wildlife gardener's dream, and he does it all in the confines of a n average suburban yard. I was delighted, and will be back again.

From Greenwood I headed on to Digby, and the Princess of Acadia, Bay Ferries vessel for the Digby Saint John trip. I was wandering around on one of the outer decks when I heard my name called, asking me to the purser's office. He told me the captain wondered if I would like to come to the bridge for a visit? Who, me, the freelance sailor? Lead the way, sir!

On the bridge I waited quietly as Captain Kenneth Smith was just taking the ship away from the wharf, calling headings to the quartermaster steering the great vessel. The bridge is, of course the nerve centre of any ship, and while this one doesn't have huge numbers on duty at any time, it was fun to watch them bring the ship out of the somewhat secluded bay that is Digby's harbour, and out into the rollicking heart of the Bay of Fundy. Captain Smith graciously toured me around to show me the upgrades that Bay Ferries had made to the Princess of Acadia while she was in drydock for three weeks, and she looks like a brand new ship, with many amenities from large screen televisions, internet service, and even a supervised play area for small children, as well as a cafeteria and cafe. Lots of seating room in several lounges, plus outside on the decks, and after I left the captain I sat reading in the large lounge on the main deck, with my iPod plugged in so as not to listen to other people's conversations. The ship is very comfortable, (but we know I have a soft spot for sailing on ships anyway!) and the three hours of the trip passed quickly.

I don't know why anyone would drive all the way around when there's this marvelous ferry; it cuts a lot of driving time for many travellers, depending on where you're going in NS or NB (it would have taken me 5+ hours to drive to Saint John, where this took me about 90 minutes to the ferry!) We have to impress upon that band of jokers in Ottawa and Halifax that call themselves our leaders that this ferry is an essential service, and they have to help keep her in service. *yes, that was a mini rant, if anyone was wondering.

After getting off the ship at Saint John, I wasn't long heading to the Inn at the Cove where I was booked in. Originally I had been going to join the Inn's owners, Ross and Willa Mavis, at their country home where they were hosting a potluck party for other PWAC members, but I decided that my room just looked too tempting. A quick supper and a drive to look at the Irving Nature park, and here I am, back for the night. Now with my 'report' made to all of you, I'm about to do some reading and then see about sleeping sideways in that bed! And I can hear the waves tumbling stones on the beach now. Night.....zzzzzzzzzzzz

More rain and setting sail

This was one of those perfect examples of why we humans should put not our faith in weather forecasters. 'Scattered showers'? How about drenching drownpours all day long? At first they came in heavy showers, so we left Jenny and Leggo out in the pasture--til I heard a rumble of thunder. Out I slogged, getting good and soaked as the rain decided to reach its peak of drenchingness at just that point; and Leggo, bless his whimsical Morgan self, stood with his stern to the wind and rain, head down, and refusing to come to the gate, so I had to go get him. We all were good and soggy by the time we maid it to the barn, but fresh hay and treats promptly improved the equine moods, and I was simply glad of the rain. After it settled down a bit into more of a steady rain rather than downpours, I could almost hear the happy earth soaking it up.

Not that we've been dry here on the mountain; not compared to some of my fellow bloggers and gardeners elsewhere. But this is just freshening things up, prompting another burst of growth and flowering out of some plants. I started doing some cleanup yesterday, deadheading and cutting things back, until I met this little ornament--in another bed far from the milkweed.
Now, by far I don't mean miles, but the caterpillar must have crawled at least 50 feet from one bed, across the lawn, and into this bed to select this daylily leaf to be his changing room. When I saw him, I promptly swore off all further garden housecleaning for another week or so, until the butterflies start hatching out. I don't want to disturb any of them, and who knows just how far they will travel to find a place to pupate? Maybe this one is a loner, because there are at least 8 chrysalids in that varigated weigela over near the Asclepias! It's been intriguing to see where they are parking themselves; on hosta and daylily leaves, on true lilies, on the bottom of the toppled over arbour, in the weigela, in the highbush cranberry (Viburnum trilobum)...yet I haven't seen any on any of the echinacea. But they love coneflowers once they have their butterflying suits on!

I sort of expect the first hatchings to begin about next Thursday. This is ideal for me because I'm heading off in the morning for a few day press-trip courtesy of the great people at Tourism New Brunswick (the province adjoining Nova Scotia.) I'm not driving around this time; I'm taking the ferry from Digby to Saint John, (a delightful way to travel!) and visiting several other communities in the province, and yes, I'm visiting gardens too! My plan is to post nightly, time and energy permitting, but if I don't, the only reason why is I'm busy having fun exploring my neighbouring province. So drop in and see what I'm up to tomorrow evening, when I'll be at Inn on the Cove for the night.

After the storm

While our Nova Scotian weather can be somewhat robust in nature, with cold winds, fogs and other challenges, we don't normally get too many thunderstorms in the run of a summer. We might average between six and twelve throughout the spring and summer months, although I've seen thunderstorms here in March and in November. Normally they're wonderful to watch, attractive weather tantrums that just cause us to pause and watch mother nature at her elemental best.

Not last night. Or more specifically, yesterday morning. I was reading an Ian Rankin book about 0130 (the pain in my legs often keeps me awake so I sleep til they give in) when I thought I heard thunder. I trotted downstairs and looked out the patio windows--and watched as the sky lit up time and again in a matter of thirty seconds.

Uh oh. Gonna be a bad one. I pulled the plugs on electronics, pulled on my crocks and a sweater, and ran to the barn. No rain was coming, but there was a lot of lightning, and I needed to bring in Leggo and Jenny. Well. I hadn't stopped to seek out the flashlight, and the horse was not coming...and there I stood at the gate, hollering my head off and hoping that the lightning would pause out over the Bay for a little while longer. Jenny sauntered up while Leggo was doing powerturns around her, whinnying and prancing and just being a nervous hairball, but I finally cajoled him into coming to me and got them into the barn.

And all hell broke loose.
I haven't figured out yet how to take photos of lightning storms. But I wouldn't have tried last night anyway. For the first time in three or four years, we were nervous during a thunderstorm. In fact, I have never been as nervous as I was last night about a storm--nor have I ever in my life seen such a storm. It was like a strobe light was flashing constantly--lightning so brilliant you could see the colours of the garden when the sky was lit up. At one point, the kitties and I all contemplated heading for the basement, but we decided to keep my longsuffering spouse company in the kitchen. Actually, Tigger slept through the entire performance, even when strikes very close by rattled the house with jet-engine roars of thunder.

Today everything was washed clean, and although the rain came down too hard and washed out some gravel roads and roadsides, things look fresh around the yard. There was one sad note, as my neighbour's old pony was found tonight dead in the pasture. Whether she had a heart attack or was struck by lightning or something else, we don't know--his donkey is fine--but this is why I bring our animals in when cumulonimbus clouds move up the Bay or the cats are too weird. Tonight it was humid and I brought the critters in early--which should guarantee a quiet night--and as I watched the sky and the placid waters of the upper Bay, I was reminded that we humans are pretty puny. No matter if we build mcmansions and drive gas-guzzling SUVs and otherwise try to make ourselves look important. We can't control the weather--other than to make it worse with global warming, that is.

Okay, that's enough pensiveness/ranting out of me. I promised more blooms (and other things) so let's get to the good stuff!

The heathers are just starting to bloom in my conifer-ericaceous bed; if you can't tell heaths from heathers, use this as a mnemonic. Heaths rhyme with Easter and bloom in the spring: Heathers wait for summer weather to do their bloomin' thing.


I am simply silly about the vibrant neon colours of annual ice plants(Mesembryanthemum). I plant them out in containers so they won't get overly soggy if we have a wet summer, and they reward with dozens of brilliant blooms.


I caught this caterpillar in the act of going into his pupate form; it was really fun to watch the chrysalis thrashing as the caterpillar made his transformation. I've found more chrysalids in different parts of the garden, which leads me to declare a moratorium on all deadheading, weeding, etc until the nursery has done its hatching.


I'm slow to get into alliums, other than having had 'Hair' and Nectaroscordum for some years. This is A. flavum, I think; the pot was full of tiny bulbs and shoots, and the yield was a cluster of yellow fireworks and one purple-pink one.


Perhaps the oddest coneflower in the garden is Rudbeckia 'Black Beauty'; not really black but definitely a striking beauty in its own way.


The elegant design of the blue scabiosa flower makes me intensely happy. The white one is lovely, but this one is even better.


Ditto the blue woodruff as opposed to the white. They are actually two different species; white sweet woodruff is Gallium odoratum, while the blue is Asperula orientalis. I love them both, but I hope the blue will selfseed this year.


Cherokee Sunset is a double rudbeckia, and as you can see it has striking autumn colours to its blooms. I THINK I grew this from seed last year, but I was still surprised to see it when it began flowering.


False Mallow, Prairie Mallow...sidalcea has been a tough performer for years, selfseeding a tiny bit but not excessively, and making the bees very, very happy.


I bought this two days ago at Blomidon Nurseries; it's the Mexican hat Ratibida 'Red Midget'. I've added it to the coneflower collection out front.


To my mind, bloom day includes terrific foliage; hence this porcelain vine, which has the same delicious colours to its foliage as does Nishiki willow. I hope it will flower and fruit this year, but maybe not til next.


Here is probably the strangest plant in my collection. It's buttonbush or silversand, Calocephalus, a plant from Tasmania. Dana at Glad Gardens grew some from seed last year, and I have this one; it's truly silver looking and prehistoric in appearance (although I think it's a member of Compositae). I have it planted with bronze hair sedge, Carex comans, in a terra cotta planter, and I"ll overwinter it in the house.


Finally, a teaser; this is Lavatera 'Silver Cup', and while I can grow this and Malva Zebrina and Hisbiscus trionum 'Flower of an Hour' for fun....there is a Mallow relative that stumps me regularly. You'll hear about that soon!

Garden Bloggers Bloom Day--August

It's that time again already! It's Garden Bloggers Bloom Day, as started by the clever and delightful Carol of May Dreams Garden.


It's Half Past August, a Quarter to Fall--and here's what's going on at our place!


This and the first image is a perennial potentilla, Arc en Ciel--I also have one called Fireball but the flowers are much smaller. These come in shades of red-orange with yellow in the mix too, and they catch a lot of attention even though they're in among the coneflower herd.


I'm just catching on to alliums, although I've been growing a couple of them faithfully for several years now. The bizarre "Hair" is a favourite because of its odd spiky tendrils, but I like the small yellow fireworks of this one too.



I don't know if the monarchs just haven't found the yellow asclepias yet, or if it's not really to their liking, but so far it's remained unscatched. I can't find the orange one, but it's possible I weeded it out, thinking it was something naughty!


Although the light wasn't quite right and I should have used my tripod--I couldn't resist including this photo of a hummingbird facing off with a wasp! It's very bizarre to see the wasp turn and face the hummers, and then CHASE them--but they all share eventually.


You didn't think I'd get through a post of flowers without at least one coneflower, did you? Of course not. Here's Sundown, also known as Evan Saul--I can finally tell them apart because SunSET has a unique lavender cast to its older flowers in cool climates, according to Tony Avent of Plant Delights Nursery.


And of course this is my favourite plant this year, the well-named Green Envy--which elicits just that response in most who see it.


Oh, this is a blissful plant! It's an orienpet lily, a cross between oriental and a trumpet, but I can't remember what it's name is. It's fragrant, it's elegant, it might be Caravan (I'll see if I can find my notes from last year).



I figure that Bloom Day ought to include some of the creatures that our garden relies on for pollination--and which they rely on for food. Here's one of our happy, fat, bumblebees. Okay, yes, I'm anthropomorphizing. It's my blog and if I want to assign moods to bees, I will. Nanner nanner nanner blttttt!


We have a lot of bee balm, mostly in strong colours like red (Jacob Cline) raspberry (Raspberry Wine) and this (Bluestocking). I didn't realize that's what this was until the Bluestocking I bought this year flowered--and looked exactly like this large clump of Monarda. So now there will be two clumps.


As part of my wine-and-chocolate garden, here is Days of Wine; our daylilies are still going strong here on the mountain, and the everbloomers will keep going until frost.


This afternoon I took a walk around the back field looking at wildflowers and other things that interest me, and paused by the pond to watch dragonflies. I didn't feel I had time to sit and wait for a dragonfly to land near me...then when I went back up to the house, here he is, hanging on the autumn clematis!

I have deadlines on the go here, so I will stop for now; but I'm going to do a part 2 to my Garden Blogger's Bloom Day post--and that will be some of the native/naturalized plants that grow around our place. Happy Bloom Day, all!

Ch ch ch ch changes....

This morning my longsuffering spouse announced that I should go down to the Bay and check out the hay in a field where his nephew was working. Blaine wanted to make sure the quality was good enough for horses, and it certainly was. Now, for those of you who are accustomed to haying in June or July, relax. Down in the Valley the horse hay has been done for weeks, and in fact second cuts are well underway for both hay and silage. But here on the mountain, where things are cooler and more moist, we always get our hay in August. It’s excellent quality and the happy horse and hapless donkey always enjoy it.

While I was waiting for Blaine to bring the first load up, I walked around the garden to see what was new and exciting. Another blast of wind last night had knocked over a wooden obelisk in the back garden, and I was going to pick it up, when I spotted something wonderful. A monarch caterpillar, hanging in the ‘J’ position. I got very excited , even though I realized that now the arbour is going to have to stay resting as it is for the next couple of weeks.

Monarchs (and other caterpillars) attach themselves to a twig, leaf or other object with a pad made of silk and then hang down, head first (like someone doing yoga.) Then they go into their fifth and final moult, which is the amazing one. As one website describes, when the caterpillar sheds its skin this time, it looks like a giant green water droplet, the chrysalis. It’s now beginning its pupation, the stage where it turns from a ponderously slow eating machine to a graceful, flying butterfly.


When I went out at suppertime to get ready to bring in the rest of the hay, our J-shaped caterpillar had done its magic, and was a glistening, glorious green sac. I sat on the ground transfixed by this, the first actual monarch chrysalis I’ve ever seen (except in photos and books and websites.) After the hay, I ran for my camera, and now that I knew what size to look for, I went looking carefully (from outside the border) around other plants for similar shapes.


And there were all kinds of them. Caterpillars hanging in the J-position, and a number of chrysalises (whatever the plural is) festooning a weigela shrub, daylily leaves, hosta leaves…sunlight gleaming through the translucent sacs—I could even see stripes inside a couple of them.


Now, I realize that monarch caterpillars pupate by the millions every year…but I’m no less awed by a marvelous feat of biological engineering.


And when I went back to check the big milkweed plant, I found a few eggs on the underside of some of the upper leaves...and the cycle continues.

Storms, computers, and other dramas

When I called my longsuffering spouse from Halifax yesterday, I told him I was having a Monday. “This is Thursday”, he pointed out.

Nope. It’s been Monday all week.

My MacBook Pro laptop has been having issues, and we thought it was fixed Wednesday…only to have me go flying back into Halifax again yesterday. I left the dear thing at the shop overnight, hoping that it would manifest its odd behaviours for the technician. But it’s been acting like the frog in the Bugs Bunny cartoon, the frog that sings and dances in front of one person—and when presented to an audience sits there and goes ‘Ribbit.’ That’s my laptop—misbehaving for me, and acting angelic for the technician. So I’m running three days behind in work, but figure it’ll get caught up over the next couple of days.

To add to the fun, we’ve been having a spot of weather. First, we had a joyously profound drownpour of rain on Wednesday evening, followed by wind all day yesterday. Quite a bit of wind. Not the wicked Suête wind of Cheticamp, which can hit nearly 100 miles an hour on a regular basis, but an impressive bit of wind in its own right. It did some pruning in the garden, and not necessarily the sort of pruning that is appreciated—knocking down some of the sunflower ‘trees’ (freerange selfseeded sunflowers that grow up tall and thick-stemmed and multi-flowered), throwing an obelisk bearing a blue-flowered Clematis integrifolia ‘Caerulea’ over onto some iris and darmera, rumpling all sorts of parts of the garden and just generally being a pain. Because I was preoccupied with computer dramas, I didn’t really view the yard until later today.

Between the computer headaches and the weather and some bad news about aging relatives, I suddenly was caught up in a case of the pre-autumn blues. The garden that looked so fresh and lush just a few days ago seemed ‘bewiltered’ and the coolness of the air following the storm has that inimitable whisper of autumn in it. Even though I know we have weeks to go before the equinox, the lessening of the light and the changing of shadows and sun patterns in the yard further casts me into the doldrums. And ironically, the no-see-ums are still vicious, way worse than mosquitos or blackflies ever thought of being up here, and when I went outside to take some photos I was actually driven back indoors by the tiny and voracious insects.

However…despite a need to deadhead, trim, tidy and weed, the garden also cast a balm of comfort over my soul. In part it came from rejoicing in the tiny details of the plants and their neighbours in our yard. Doing this requires me to really slow down and look—and see—not just glance, but really SEE the marvels of the garden.

Marvels like the fabulous patterns and colours in a Masterwort (Astrantia) flower…


Or the wealth of colours in a Venidium blossom’s centre…


The blind hunger of a monarch caterpillar chewing down a milkweed…


And the rainbow of light on a spiderweb.


Though some flowers are winding down their life and turning to pop art seedhead sculptures,


Other plants are embracing the summer by sending up bright new growth, like this Nishiki willow twig.


While the rich gold of pollen (here in a daylily’s heart) promises food for birds and insects, and indirectly (through honey production) for us humans.


Hope is rekindled in a garden, watching the endless cycle of birth, death and rebirth. To heck with the deadlines, and all the things that haven’t gotten done the past few days. Tomorrow, weather permitting, I’m spending the day in the garden regrounding myself and restoring some sense of inner equilibrium. Whacking weeds or rejoicing in caterpillars will do that to a person.

If regrounding ourselves isn't a good reason to garden...I don't know what would be.

Glad gardens of hope

This afternoon on my way back from several other appointments, I stopped in at Murray Salsman’s home in Grafton, NS, behind Berwick. One of the things that makes me particularly happy is when people use their gardening skills to do something that will help others. Murray’s that kind of gardener. His property is home to Marg’s Glad Garden, a memorial garden he built for his late wife Margaret, but also which helps many people every year.

Margaret died of cancer in January of 2004 but she loved to garden, and she and Murray always worked together in their flowerbeds. Her favourite flower was the gladiolus, and Murray decided to plant about 3000 bulbs in her memory, the spring following her death. Then he got the idea to use the glad garden to raise money for the Cancer Care Patient Navigator program, which helps cancer patients and their families when they are dealing with financial difficulties around treatment, etc. And the funds raised go to help patients in Kings and Annapolis Counties—not to fund some research program or some heavily bloated fundraising bureaucracy somewhere else. Marg’s Glad Garden has helped many people since its beginning in the spring of 2004.

This year, Murray and a host of helpers planted around 10,000 glads in early May, and now the garden is open for people to come and visit. If they make a donation to the fund, which is a registered charity, Murray cuts them a bouquet of his gorgeous glads, which come in almost every colour conceivable. Already there has been a steady stream of visitors come to wander through the plantings, make donations, and receive their bouquet of flowers. Murray also has paintings and photographs of glads, taken or painted by Nova Scotian artist Sandy Moser, for sale, and naturally I bought the photo of the hummingbird inside a glad blossom to add to my wall of floral art!

Incidentally, I wrote about Murray and Marg’s Glad Garden last year for Reader’s Digest magazine, (it was in the October or November issue in Canada) and as with anything like this, I always hope that telling the story will spur someone, somewhere, to try something similar. I am a firm believer in helping local people, whether it be purchasing local plants or farm produce or donating to a local charity, so this to me is a good thing to do.

When I got home I went out to the memory garden to look at plants. Since another garden club is coming to visit tomorrow, I thought I should tidy up a bit. But I got as far as the back perennial bed, looked at the Rosy butterfly weed (Asclepias incarnata) and stopped in my tracks.


Remember the other day there were a few little monarch caterpillars having a snack?

Well…I counted about 5 dozen caterpillars in all in the three clumps of asclepias. Most of them are big already, (and the asclepias has taken quite a thumping, but that’s what it’s there for) and will probably be going to pupate in a matter of days. I’ll have to tippy toe around looking for a chrysalis, as I’ve never seen one in the garden.


One of the reasons I have grown to love butterflies so much is because of their remarkable life cycles, and how we can create metaphors for our own lives by watching and learning from them. I never got the weeding done…I spent an hour or more watching the caterpillars munching through the milkweed leaves, and taking photos…and then being visited by this adult female monarch.


She seemed completely oblivious to the caterpillars chewing their way around her—she just probed through the flowers and fluttered around.I think she was just dining on nectar, but maybe she was also getting ready to lay eggs. I haven’t seen a male here yet, but I’m sure it won’t be long now.

Earlier today my longsuffering spouse had asked worriedly about the tussock moth caterpillars, which we don’t care for because last year we had a population boom of them that stripped quite a few plants, and I actually broke out the Bacillis thurengiensis—until I spied monarch caterpillars, at which point all hostilities ceased. This year, I’ve seen maybe a handful of the pesty moth caterpillars, and I think the explosion of them last year—or the cold winter-- meant a bust this year for them. Even if there are a pile of them around, they’re going to get stomped, or snipped in half, or picked and thrown in soapy water, not sprayed, not even with soapy water…don’t want anything to disturb “my” brood of munching monarchs-to-be.

Somehow, after having been to Murray's and making a donation to the Memorial Fund, coming home to monarch butterflies and babies seemed really appropriate. Marg would approve too, I'm sure.

A couple of local Garden Jewels

It's time for a bit of a rant, this time about appreciating what we have close to home. I often grumble that I don't understand people, and that includes people in my own beloved province, many of whom think that fool in Ottawa and the other one in Halifax/Mabou are effective and good leaders. But without going off on a political tangent, let me focus my exasperation on those of us who fail to see the treasures that exist right under our noses.

Gasoline, as anyone can tell you, is well over 5 dollars a gallon in Nova Scotia now, thanks to that fiddlin’ fool and his merry band of clowns that supposedly run the province, and had the braindead idea to bring in regulation. Hello, more big tax grabs by the provincial and federal governments; hello, more bazillions for the hogs at Big Oil; goodbye, traveling too far afield for many people during summer vacations.

Well, okay, so let’s make our own fun closer to home. That’s not difficult to do. Someone said to me the other day, when we were discussing tourism in the province, that there aren’t enough free attractions for families or even couples who are traveling. I got to thinking about that, and decided that wasn’t correct. Take garden pleasures,, for example. There are several really fine places to visit, several of which do not charge admission, and that I highly recommend to anyone either visiting our area, or heck, even living here!

The first one is the jewel of Acadia University, Harriet Irving Botanical Gardens, part of the KC Irving Environmental Science Centre. This is surely one of the most unique and lovely botanical gardens around, and so many of the locals don’t even realize it’s there or what a treasure it is. More than six acres of unique plantings, and the whole place looks like it’s been there for many years, when in fact it’s been open less than five years to the public.

Now, if you’re looking for formalized carpet beddings of annuals, or exotic perennials, this isn’t the place to go. This is a garden celebrating the flora of Nova Scotia, and some of the unique ecosystems that flourish all around us. Do you know what sorts of plants live in a bog? In a calcareous woodland? There are nine distinct ecosystems set up at the Gardens, each with their distinct shrubs and perennial plants and trees.

Walk through the sand barrens and you’ll feel the heat shimmering from the ground, and see sweetfern, lowbush blueberry and and chokeberry growing; in the decidous woodland, linger under sugar maples and yellow birch while you look for bunchberries, ferns, wood sorrel and other delicate plants; in the freshwater marsh, you’ll see cattails, sedges, arrowhead, and a host of plants that will grow submerged or partially submerged. There are excellent interpretive displays and maps, specialized gardens such as a medicinal plant bed, walking trails and water features, a unique bed of native perennial flowering plants.


Besides all this, there’s a raft of activities taking place at the gardens yearround, from seminars to camps to workshops.

More people need to visit this jewel, and learn more about the world around us that we so often take for granted. It’s one of my favourite places in the county, if not in the province. Go visit for yourself; the gardens are open to the public from dusk to dawn; the conservatory part of the gardens is open from 8 am to 10 pm. AND there are free guided tours of the gardens throughout the summer months.

I don't get to the Historic Gardens in Annapolis Royal nearly as often as I would like. But for a nice review of what it's like this year, go visit I Wet My Plants, a blogger out of Ontario who was in our province just a couple of weeks ago. Kathy was also in Scotts Bay, and took photos of my neighbour's wonderful rock garden. (Much of our garden isn't visible from the road, thanks to some maples, spruces, and other shrubs and trees in the front part of the property, if you were wondering.) She visited several of our fine nurseries too, and found more treasures for her gardens back home, and we're glad she had a great visit to Nova Scotia.

Back in Wolfville, another favourite spot is part of a very popular and thriving Wolfville business, The Blomidon Inn The Inn is a lovingly restored sea captain’s house, turned into a highly rated Inn some years ago and operated by the Laceby family for approaching 20 years. Along with the 29 uniquely and distinctly decorated rooms, each named after a community or character of the Valley the Inn has a number of delightful features, including their restaurant, and the completely eclectic and unique House of Gifts, a perfect place to dispose of a little disposable income. It has a collection of carefully sourced gift items, from kitchenware to jewelry to cats of all sorts to a garden room of earthly delights, and is open from 1 May to December 23. (The Inn, however, is open yearround).

But one of the best parts about the Blomidon Inn is their gorgeous gardens, which features more than three acres of plantings in the recreation of a Victorian style of garden. The Lacebys invite and welcome people to come and visit their gardens, which feature three ponds, a rose square with a gazebo, a splendid horseshoe shaped perennial bed and terrific plantings in rock garden areas with five totally different types of rocks (all from within the province, however). Behind the Lacebys' home (up back of the Inn), there’s the vegetable garden and highbush blueberry patch that supplies much of the fresh produce and herbs that chef Shaun Laceby uses in his culinary creations.


Now there’s a great map of the gardens on the Inn’s website, so you can see for yourself all there is to enjoy. For us gardeners, it’s a wonderful place to go—it’s nice to just visit the gardens but I personally like to do the whole thing once in a while, treat myself to lunch at the Inn and then go visit Donna and the House of Gifts.

After all, everyone deserves a bit of pampering, especially those of us who grub in the dirt, right? And when there are terrific places to enjoy right in our own backyard, why go further afield?

Just my two cents on a serene sultry Sunday.

Visitors large and small

This was one of those really busy days but also one filled with delightful surprises. To start out the day, I went off to Medford to pick 16 pints of raspberries at the U-Pick, while Longsuffering Spouse worked on the painting of the house. It's going to look wonderful when he gets it done--which in this heat is taking longer than he had expected. To keep him encouraged, I made up 10 pints of raspberry freezer jam which is his favourite--next to peach and blackberry. Pity we don't have any raspberry wine--except for the Monarda of the same name at the top of this entry.

This afternoon we were visited by some 50 gardeners from Clementsvale and Annapolis Royal; people I met during talks I've given in the past number of months.

I've never had a garden club visit before, and I was a bit nervous but also glad to welcome them. It's always interesting to see what catches other people's eyes, isn't it. Several raved over this Chinese delphinium.
Others were ga-ga over the poppies, which are still flamboyantly doing their thing in a host of colours. More than one asked me which hydrangea this is, and I simply said, "one of the blue lacecaps--because I don't know." Blue Billows, Blue Bird, who knows without a tag or good notes? Since they'd just come from Canning Daylily Gardens, they weren't at all surprised to find me with a host of daylilies in all shades. But more than one person was intrigued by the chocolate foxglove, Digitalis parviflora, part of my chocolate and wine garden.


A number of folks exclaimed over the clematis, especially this one, which is about nine feet tall, and has a few flowers on it. One of the visitors told me she thinks it's Polish Spirit, because of its deep wine colour, and that rings a bell with me. Whatever it is, people were amazed. But I said it's not my doing; Thank the mushroom compost, the fog, the kelp meal, and straw mulching, not me!

After our guests left, I went out to harvest the tomato crop. Such as it is.

Okay now, stop laughing, all you tomato growing whizzes. In my defence, I picked them because I couldn't stand it any longer. And no, your eyes aren't deceiving you; we have a gold, a pink, and a not-quite red ripe one; Gold Nugget, Thai Pink Egg, and I believe the red one is Harmony. I could only take one photo...because to paraphrase the little cat, "I eated them!" I'll put the Seaboost to the plants now and get them moving on their cropping, encouraged by all the tomatophiles out there who grow such nice plants and fruits.

Someone asked me why I don't put out saucers of beer to trap slugs as they noticed a few holes in plants. Well, the truth is, a few holes in my hostas or depredations by rose sawworms or aphids on the honeysuckles don't bother me all that much. I hose down the honeysuckle a couple of times each season, but mostly just let nature--in the form of ladybird beetle larvae and other munching predators--do their thing. I HAVE been watching carefully for an outbreak of the white tussock moth caterpillars, but have seen only one--and if we do get a pile of them, the garden will just have to suck it up and handle it.

Because there are more important things to take care of than bad bugs. Like good bugs. Like bumblebees,

And spangled Fritillary butterflies, (click on this to enlarge it--and tell me he doesn't seem to be looking right at the camera! Just wait til my macro lens gets here, if you think that is fun!)
and most importantly of all...the visitors I found on the rosy milkweed, or swamp butterfly weed (Asclepias incarnata.)

Jubilation! They're here, and they're munching. The monarch caterpillars have hatched! If you'd been in my back yard, you would have seen me doing a little happy dance when I saw a dozen or more of these little darlings munching the rosy milkweed. Eat all you want, guys, there's lots. Eat hearty. Grow big and strong.
Isn't it nice that something so small can make a person so happy?

Garden Blogger's Muse Day: August 1

Here goes...my first attempt at playing in the Garden Blogger's Muse Day festivities. I'll enjoy reading other postings more, though.
August

Daylily days and frogsong nights
Heat and fog play
ring-around-the-garden
The best looking plants seem to be the weeds
As hungry insects gnaw on once-perfect leaves and flowers
And of course now come the visitors!
Little do they know that a garden writer’s garden
Is only perfect if her name is Martha.
Still, there's a little 'Green Envy' to enjoy...
Deadlines can give way to hammock swinging and sense-restoring
As we listen, look, smell, touch and taste the garden’s joys
A storm cloud trembles on the horizon, to remind us
We’re half past summer, quarter to autumn
No matter what the almanac says.