THE SCENT AND SIGHTS OF SUMMER

Just now, in spite of little to no rain historic heat, the crape myrtles and the purple phlox are blooming and their scent is blown around by light breezes.  Since my standards for outside plants are: tough, beautiful, and fragrant if possible, these meet the test.  And, like most plants which are tough, they do tend to take over.  The purple phlox would gladly fill a very large bed, and very nearly do so right now.  The crape myrtles, particularly the white Natchez, grow very vigorously, bloom very vigorously, and cast their spent blooms very vigorously.  That is no problem for our crapes, but our next door neighbor has beautiful ones too, which grow next to our shared fence, and which just about cover the area where my garden work bench is, both the bench and the walkway in front of it, and everything in the surrounds.  Yet how can I complain when I love them so.

In addition to these lovelies, which more or less save the season, there are zinnias blooming everywhere, including the garden paths, all with my encouragement.  The zinnias have no noticeable scent, but the butterflies love them, enough said.  

Among my many other plant enthusiasms are bulbs.  Not all bulbs, just the ones which are tough and beautiful.  Each wave of spring bulb dazzles me in turn, from grape hyacinths and daffodils and hyacinths to bluebells and all the rest, and then the fall bulbs of sternbergia and August lilies (lycoris squamigera), ah, but then there are the spider lilies. Spider lilies are tough and beautiful but not fragrant like so many other bulbs.  But there is something so exotic about the spider lilies (lycoris radiata) that they grab me every late summer/early fall when they bloom.  

That something that looks so dramatic and delicate is actually really very tough, at least in this part of the country, is so amazing.  And they grow more and more blooms each year that they are left alone.  Because they do not like to be moved.  So the first year they are planted, blooms are forget-about-it.  But after that they flourish.  I've seen areas where they bloom in lawns and multiply gloriously.  But mine are in beds, safe from lawnmowers and being walked upon and every year they dazzle.  A good dazzle is good for everyone.

Then there are the bunnies

We live in an urban neighborhood, not very far from a major freeway.  And yet we have all sorts of critters that seem to find our backyard.  This last spring and summer, we had a small rabbit, who our son named 'Benny', although we were way too shy to ask if it was a girl bunny or a boy bunny.  The bunny became accustomed to our comings and goings in the garden as long as we didn't get too close.  We have this very large quince, which was supposed to be a 'dwarf', but which has become known as the quince that took over the flower bed.  We eventually had to extend the bed area several feet to accommodate the lovely thing, which is glorious in the spring and sometimes reblooms during the fall equinox as well.  Anyway we noted that Benny seemed to find the quince a sanctuary to dart into if humans got too close.  That was the way it was at first.  Then we noticed that Benny spent quite a lot of time under the quince, because Benny was spotted coming out of the quince shelter often.

Since our precious Max cat passed last year, there is no one to threaten a bunny in our garden.  However, we found that Benny apparently could threaten some of the plants, especially a begonia I had transplanted into a flowerbed across from our breakfast table window.  Still, what were we to do?  Benny mostly ate grass when we were watching, so we just let well enough alone.  Then a month or so ago, one of us spotted a bigger bunny, with longer ears.  We don't know if this is Benny, transformed by growth (Benny had shorter ears at first acquaintance), or a stranger.

And then, today, I walked out into the garden room to check the morning world, and there was a really small bunny making its way across the patio in dainty small steps.  Suddenly a squirrel came down from the tree there.  The tiny bunny froze.  The squirrel moved on down the tree in what I would describe as a threatening manner.  The tiny bunny flashed away across the garden so quickly it was amazing.  Then the rascally squirrel turned and climbed back up the tree.  It was one of those moments we treasure, seeing a bit of the natural world we can forget in our world of freeways and cell phones and all that.

BIRDS, BEES, BUTTERFLIES AND SQUIRRELS

We try very hard to provide a welcoming area in our back garden for all the creatures that might visit it.  We have a squirrel-proof bird feeder, actually two, and we enjoy the antics of the squirrels trying to access the feeders almost as much as we enjoy the antics of the birds, who are quite successful.  And to be fair to the poor, dear little squirrels, the same creatures who plant trees in every flower bed and every flower pot we have, the squirrels (and the doves) can glean from the droppings of the dear little birds, who are really quite messy.

The bees are particularly happy with our quince shrub, which is magnificent in late winter and early spring, with its glorious blooms, and sometimes again in the fall, during the fall equinox.  And we know the bees are successful because quince fruit forms, which has not yet tempted us but may in the future.  Somewhere there's a beehive or two making quince honey, but we have no idea where it is, and even if we did, it would be left alone.  We have no talents along the lines of robbing honey.

But the butterflies are another story.  Since we have an organic garden, the area is safe for all the creatures.  But although we have planted butterfly weed numerous times and it has bloomed mostly successfully, we somehow do not find the butterflies feasting on it, but rather on zinnias.  Which is fine.  They know what they like.  It's just frustrating not to be able to trust something named butterfly weed to be attractive to butterflies.  Articles recommend it, the nurseries advertise it, but oh, well.  The other thing we seem to be unsuccessful at is providing moisture for butterflies.  We have tried, and will keep on trying, to provide some moisture for them, because this summer has been horrendously, record-breakingly hot and dry and we worry for all vulnerable creatures.  The other day, however, we had watered pots on our patio and most of them are not saucered, so the water runs through and out.  A butterfly had found what it considered a puddle and we would have considered a damp spot, and was completely spread flat on the water in the shade, as if saying 'Ah'.  

There are other creatures in the garden for which we do not need to provide, our particular favorite being the green anole lizards with their red throats.  The anoles and other lizards eat crickets, grasshoppers, spiders, and flies, and the garden provides those very well.

Every creature we see in the garden, even the persistent squirrels, provides us with entertainment, sometimes pleasure, and a window into what is really the real world, not the one mankind has devised, but the ultimate reality.

Oh Max Oh Max

The first time we saw Max, he was a gold and white bundle peering fearfully through the openings of the carrier our daughter was holding, an early Christmas present and who turned out to be the best Christmas present we had ever been given.  Of course nothing was easy at first. Max had two years of history we would never know, our daughter having found him at a local animal shelter. Just before coming to us, Max had been neutered, given shots and other indignities, all by strangers. And here we were, more strangers. It took us a full two weeks to decide, Max and us, whether we wanted to live together. But somewhere during that time, we managed to say or do the right things and Max decided we were tolerable, and we began what became a long loving friendship.  Eventually there were three people in Max's home, and all others were shunned, in that if the doorbell rang or he saw a stranger come outside with us, he would hide and he had his sanctuaries planned in the house or in the garden.

Somehow when we know and love these creatures who share our lives, we think they will go on forever. We shared such fun with him. He disdained toys but would find a twig on the patio and lie on his back and toss it from paw to paw. When he wanted our attention, he would sit and look at us intensely and raise and wave his right paw. We learned that when we were giving him food, we could ask, "where's the paw?", and he would raise that right paw. As he got more praise and attention for raising his paw, that paw got higher and higher. Outside, he could show off by turning somersaults on the lawn or running fast across the lawn and turning and running back, or climbing up the redbud tree to survey his domain.

And then, and then, after being in our home and our hearts, one morning he had a seizure.  We took him to the vet immediately, they kept him for a couple of hours of observation, then called us to pick him up, along with a prescription.  The prescription was ready later, but in the meantime, the seizures kept occurring.  That evening the guys had an appointment and I stayed with Max, just holding him.  When he had a seizure, I would put him down, then afterwards pick him up again and put him on my shoulder.  I held him for hours.  When the guys got home, we elected to take him to an all-night vet, and came home and thought and thought.  All the seizures had the effect of changing his eyes somehow, and he was so frightened.  The next morning we called the vet, found he had continued having seizures, and we all three went to the vet, each of us held him, and then he went gently into the long sleep.

That was August of last year, and we are still mourning.  But we know that the way we can most honor Max is by finding another cat who needs a home.  Knowing Max taught us so much about what we need to do to make a kitty welcome.

Today is a new day

This time of year, when we have had enough cloudy, cozy days, especially without any rain to better the gardening situation, the gardener looks for whatever signs may be seen.  Today is the day that the first jonquils bloomed, in one area a Campernelle jonquil, in another area a jonquilla simplex, what we call 'Sweeties'.  And they are so welcome.  We know we are fortunate to have escaped the severe weather problems in so many places, but there is also a type of 'winter of the soul', when so many overwhelming events happen, some to us personally and some to what seems like everywhere.  

Which makes these first jonquils so very special and welcome.  When you stop to think of it, most early spring flowers, especially in the jonquil/daffodil family, are yellow.  Yellow shows up so brightly.  We have pots of yellow pansies by the front door.  

The rest of our back garden is a mess, full of plants that need deadheading, winter weeds that need pulling, dead oak leaves that cover more than is needful.  We will get to all of those things, eventually.  But today, we have jonquils!