Silent Sunday

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Early Bloomers

The hellebores are finally emerging. In a milder winter, they bloom earlier, living up to the name of  Christmas Roses. 

This year we'll have to settle for their other  appellation -- Lenten Roses. But a rose hellebore by any name is a welcome sight.

And the winter jasmine's pale yellow flowers are beginning to twinkle on its bare stems -- brightening even a gray day.

Spring-like Stirrings

Though I know full well that winter's a long way from over, Saturday and Sunday were a lovely respite.  I spent a little time pruning, scratching around in the dirt, removing some early weeds and admiring the pansies which are trying to stand up after being buried in the snow.
 

Eddie helped.

Beneath the dead leaves of the Siberian Iris, daffodils are pushing toward the light.

 I trimmed the dead foliage so it wouldn't form a mat, but scattered it back over those impatient shoots, hoping to slow them so they don't get nipped by the next snow.

 Both cats enjoyed the sun . . .

And when the sun dropped behind the ridge and I returned to the house, it felt as if my veins were full of champagne rather than blood.

How glorious to get a foretaste of Spring!

 

Glory of the Morning

Ah! such perfect blooms!

Preening for my camera --

How can I resist?

Early August

Purple coneflowers in crisp, starched perfection. . .

Half-hidden amid the glossy leaves,
Pears ripen in luxuriant trusses  . . .

Seed heads promise a return next year . . .

And the long evening light lingers in the still air.

 

In Praise of the Resourceful Morning Glory

Morning glories are some of my favorite volunteers, climbing up the side of the house to peek in at my coral cupboard and spreading their vines everywhere. 

They are descended from seeds I planted long ago and sometimes I have to be ruthless if I don't want them overwhelming everything else in a deep blue and green tide.

But in many places, they are welcome invaders.

Bold adventurer!

Spreading your blue parasols

Step by stealthy step...

 Black-eyed Susans shine

Bright yellow-rayed suns circling

A single blue star.

 

 Clematis bloom past,

Now morning glory arrives,

Blue trumpets blaring.

 Stars of old Japan,

Morning glories shine serene

Captured for all time.

 

Click on the images of the prints to learn more about them.

Queen of the Night

With all the carrying on here at the house, it was lucky that I stepped into the greenhouse yesterday morning and noticed the single swelling bud on the night blooming cereus.

These blooms open at dark and close forever with the coming of dawn. It's a one shot deal and easy to miss -- but as we finished supper, I remembered to take a flashlight and check to see if this was the night.

The intense fragrance greeted me as soon as I opened the door and there she was, in all her glory -- the Queen of the Night.

It was a fitting close to a lovely day -- a delicious lunch in Asheville with members of the extended family -- and a day that saw the coffee maker repaired, the shower drain unclogged, and the oven (we think) in working order once again. All thanks to John.

Garden Daze

Monday and Tuesday were a blur of garden activity. I finished planting the little box garden below. . .

And, with John's help, the lower bit of garden was finished -- corn, beans, more lettuce, beets, and nasturtiums sowed, tomatoes, squash, and cucumbers set out -- whew! That orange stuff along two of the tiers is plastic netting to deter the crows from pulling up the corn when it sprouts.

John is my hero. Not only did he put out soaker hose for the tomatoes, the blueberries, and the raspberries -- he also mulched them all.  This, after making scones for breakfast and pizza the night before.  Is that a great fella or what?

 For one brief shining moment, the garden is in good shape -- now I can turn my attention to the rest of the yard -- which is in need of major tidying.

But there's always time to enjoy the flowers . . .

Blackberry Winter and Blue-eyed Grass

Blackberries are blooming on the hill sides and we've had a few days of chilly weather -- lows in the forties, highs in the sixties. Around here this kind of weather at this time of year is known as called blackberry winter.  It hasn't been cool enough to harm anything but I've had to shut all the windows and pull out my corduroy shirts and fleece vests.

This little green clump in the asparagus bed almost got yanked out till I looked closer and realized that it was blue-eyed grass -- not grass at all but a tiny, tiny (the flower is slightly smaller than my little fingernail) iris.  Such a pretty little thing!

And this is the blue-eyed grass's giant cousin -- a  bearded iris just beginning to unfurl.

Refreshment of the Soul . . .

Another beautiful day dawning and time for a little refreshment of the soul . . .

Not reading nor writing but pulling weeds, re-potting some plants, and generally tidying our little entryway garden . . .

The bearded iris are coming on strong -- such lovely, graceful things. The hostas are lush  -- the slugs must not be out yet.  The yellow climbing rose by the green house door has its first bloom. . .

The greenhouse snake kept an eye on me as I busied around in her domain -- at one point when I reached for a potted plant that was right next to her, she got all flustered and slid to the floor, out the open door, and into the flowerbed beneath the greenhouse windows. 

I shut the door (to keep humming birds out) and went on with my weeding.  A quarter of an hour later, I went back to get another plant from the green house and there she was, enjoying life atop my night-blooming cereus.

Obviously, she has a private entrance.