SUMMER Part 1
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Only the first day of June, but it feels like summer and it looks like summer.
The Black-Eyed Susans have started to bloom! I think it is a beautiful flower. I really do love wildflowers, and I like to encourage them. You will note the shoes of the photographer at the bottom of the picture. I would have tried to crop them out, but on my ancient Adobe Photoshop the cropping tool seems to have died. There is a cropping tool available through the website designer program, but I haven't used it yet. But more than that, I like the little touch of me in the shot. |
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It will not surprise you to know that they are relatives of the sunflower. I'm hoping during this year to get even more of the later-blooming yellow flowers, mostly in the coreopsis family, started in this wildflower patch. I'll have to mark some plants on the side of the road and retrieve some seed. Of course, that has its dangers, and it might even be illegal. The former worries me more than the latter. |
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I think those tall green plants to the left are goldenrod, which will bloom in the late summer and early fall. My sense is that the goldenrod (or whatever it is) has crowded the Black-Eyed Susans in my wildflower bed, and next year I may have to remedy that. I like the goldenrod, but not as much as I do thse flowers. This time of year the roadsides aeround here are crowded with these plants. So beautiful to see as you drive by. Here are more of shots of them, just because I like them so much and am so pleased to have my patch! |
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The day lilies on the west fence by my driveway have just started to bloom as well. My mother had lots, all shades. Each year I have fewer, for I simply don't do anything for them. Just pleased when one elects to bloom. Before too many the weeks the tiger lilies along this fence will also be in bloom.
I must say, I do think they are pretty!
I must say, I do think they are pretty!
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All that yellow in the Black-Eyed Susans and the day lilies just cry out to me of summer.
But no color here. Not yet. Down the fence toward the garage is my stand of four-o'clocks. (It's just possible that they may be crowding out the day lilies! I just thought of that!) Of course these are not in bloom yet, but in a few weeks they will be.
Talk about low-maintenance! You don't have to do a thing to these plants but leave them alone. I do have to pull cat briar and unwanted other vines out of the fence from time to time. In fact, I've done so just recently, as you may be able to tell.
But no color here. Not yet. Down the fence toward the garage is my stand of four-o'clocks. (It's just possible that they may be crowding out the day lilies! I just thought of that!) Of course these are not in bloom yet, but in a few weeks they will be.
Talk about low-maintenance! You don't have to do a thing to these plants but leave them alone. I do have to pull cat briar and unwanted other vines out of the fence from time to time. In fact, I've done so just recently, as you may be able to tell.
The woods are still lush, and I'm pleased that the grass in my yard is making an effort finally. Maybe it will recover from past droughts and the cold winter after all.That stump this side of the gingko was a big old juniper. I managed to cut it down, and I thought I was making it fall into this grassy area. Not! It fell the other way and brought down not only the power line to my pump house but also the power pole as well. Luckily there was someone I could call, and luckily he was immediately available.
This is the tallest of my tulip poplars down in the woods. I love the yellow-green blooms, but I rarely get to see them now since I had to have the big one in the yard to the east of my house taken down.
I hated to do that, but it was too close to my house and another tree down in the woods had fallen against it and was pushing it right toward the house. Had it fallen, it would have cut my house in two. That would have been a Very Bad Thing.
I was lucky in finding an excellent tree man, and it was exiting to see his crew at work, both suspended in the air and on the ground. At the same time I had a couple of dead pines just across the fence from my yard cut down. They probably would not have hit the house, if they had fallen, but there would have been a lot of mess in the yard for me to deal with. Better to have them cut to fall the other way.
I hated to do that, but it was too close to my house and another tree down in the woods had fallen against it and was pushing it right toward the house. Had it fallen, it would have cut my house in two. That would have been a Very Bad Thing.
I was lucky in finding an excellent tree man, and it was exiting to see his crew at work, both suspended in the air and on the ground. At the same time I had a couple of dead pines just across the fence from my yard cut down. They probably would not have hit the house, if they had fallen, but there would have been a lot of mess in the yard for me to deal with. Better to have them cut to fall the other way.
The afternoon was overcast, and later in the afternoon the clouds over Sawyerville became most dramatic. I've always loved a sky with blues and whites and grays all mixed up together. A true summertime sky.
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Three weeks later. Sultry sizzing summertime in Sawyerville. Well, maybe that is a slight exaggeration, but I felt in the mood for a bunch of hissing sibilants, so put up with me! It is a hot morning here, especially if you've been doing a big wash of sweaty clothes and cooking a big pot of venison chili. That's for lunch and several more meals to come. Tonight I'm invited out for pot roast and salad (and knowing the host, rice will come with that). Not exactly a hot weather meal, but I'm not one to turn down pot roast, especially somebody else's. I was going to cook the chili for tonight, but that was before I got the pot roast invitation, and since I'd thawed the log of ground venison, I thought I'd better go ahead and cook it. Couldn't do it tomorrow because of my high school class reunion.
But look at these! Don't they say summertime to you? And actually, the first official day of summer arrives tomorrow.
But look at these! Don't they say summertime to you? And actually, the first official day of summer arrives tomorrow.
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That hot-weather plant above is one of the double-bloom day lilies that my mother had planted along the road to the west of the house. They're doing well this year. The bumble bees seem to like them. I do too, actually. To me they always speak loudly of summer, and they tend to be at their peak just about the first day of summer.
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These are nice too. Not as vivid an orange as the ones above, but different from the bright yellow ones you have already seen. |
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The cannas that grow behind the big air conditioner at the rear of the house also scream of summertime. They seem to thrive on the drip from the air conditioner. Good thing, too, for I don't do a thing to help them.
They certainly continue our theme of orange and yellow.
They certainly continue our theme of orange and yellow.
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How different from the milk-and-wine lilies, which always strike me as trying to pretend it is still springtime instead of summer.
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I've been working hard this summer. Note how I have severely cut back the two bridal wreath bushes on both sides of this shot. And there was a flowering quince right in the middle that I've disposed of: too much shade here for it to prosper. Ticks seem to love the bridal wreath: I ended up with three crawling on me when I got back inside to shower.
And while we are at the foot of the hill, let me show you the leaning redbud that I finally managed to get chopped off earlier this week. (I wanted to cut more of this trunk, but my electric chain saw just wasn't powerful enough.) I've seriously chopped away the kiss-me-by-the-gate that was underneath, and I am working on the row of azaleas along the left side of the photo that have been much neglected these last years. You cannot imagine how much unwanted growth other than azaleas ended up in this area.
The four-o'clocks are in full bloom now, except, of course, in the hottest part of the day when they simply go to sleep. They wake up again late in the afternoon, hence their name.
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I have this mental image of them as being like Southern ladies of a certain ilk in Tennessee Williams plays who take naps in the heat of the day and then freshen up and put on purple voile dresses in time for afternoon tea. (Iced tea, of course. Unless possibly something a bit stronger.)
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The tiger lilies are almost ready to bloom. Maybe by the time of my next post they will be ready for their close-ups.
I've just checked the pot of chili! Looks great and smells better. Time for a little repast, I think. For simplicity's sake I'll just spread some over a couple of slices of toast today. I will sprinkle a bit of cheese over it, and instead of sour cream I'll spoon up a bit of non-fat plain yogurt. And just look below! I promised you tiger lilies, and you got tiger lilies! The first 2 blooms, just 2 days later. |
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I've always liked them. Especially since they seem to do their own thing without any involvement or work on my part. I've never been sure why they got named tiger lilies instead of leopard lilies. I mean, what with the spots.
Another example of my hard work this summer. Cutting down the big boxwood and cutting back the enormous azalea that had gotten out of hand at the northeast corner of my front porch was one hard and hot job. Neither had been trimmed back when they should have been many years ago. One thing that motivated me was all the small azaleas trying to grow around the periphery of those out-of control giants: I figured that if I could make room for them, they'd soon be healthy plants in their own right.
Just for comparison, here's a shot of that corner taken quite some years back. The big boxwood and azalea had grown even larger than they are shown here. The two smaller boxwoods by the walk I had cut down a few years back: they would have made access via wheelchair or stretcher very problematic. Yes, I'm trying to get ready while I can!
The awnings had just been pressure-washed then. Maybe one of these years . . . But I am worried whether my pump and plumbing system is strong enough to withstand such a task.
The awnings had just been pressure-washed then. Maybe one of these years . . . But I am worried whether my pump and plumbing system is strong enough to withstand such a task.
Also today my first crepe myrtle blooms have appeared. This one that volunteered by the old concrete post at the northwest corner of the store always blooms first. It seems to thrive in this hot dry corner with all the exhaust from automobiles idling at the stop sign. I planted that other one on the left, for balance, using a volunteer that had sprung up in the yard. Maybe one of these years soon it will bloom as well.
That concrete post and the one that used to stand where the other crepe myrtle is growing once supported the wooden posts that held up the roof shading the front porch of the store. In December 2007, about 10 days after Tom's death, a log sticking out from a log truck making a U-turn in downtown Sawyerville swept across and knocked down the northeast post and down came the roof. It was covered by my homeowner's insurance, but instead of replacing the porch roof I simply had a new façade put on the store. In August of the following year, about 2:30 one morning the driver of a car who was picking up packages for FedEx all over west central Alabama and was heading east to Montgomery fell asleep. Her car crashed into the northeast post, knocking it (included the 4 feet of concrete-enclosed pipe in the ground) into my front yard, the car proceeding on to crash through my fence, taking down a 70-year-old crepe myrtle and a tall Bradford pear tree in the center of my front yard and coming to rest on its side about 3 feet back from the corner of the porch where I have recently taken down the boxwood and azalea. (I was asleep and didn't hear it, but Roscoe did and alerted me that something needed to be investigated. In the last section under the ROSCOE tab at the top you can find out more about the incident, with pictures.)
In the woods just across the fence from the northeast corner of my front yard is my own big mimosa tree. I really should have taken this down when it was younger, but I didn't and now have decided just to put up with it.
It does hang across a power line, and one of these days an Alabama Power Company team will show up and cut it back. The mimosa won't mind at all. As soon as they have left it'll start reaching out again.
Here's a good shot to show relationship of places. The mimosa in the woods on the left, the cedar (or is it juniper?) tree just inside the yard, the magnolia beyond that, the front fence with yucca plants outside and crepe myrtles inside, the store at the far right, and the front of my house set back in the center.
That plant in the left corner is Joe Pye weed, and early this fall I'll probably show you it in bloom. To the right of that is the last one of the climbing roses left from those planted by my mother. This one has yellow blooms. And sharp thorns.
And who mows that grass outside the fence? Well, I do, with my trusty gasoline-powered push-mower. I have to be careful mowing close to the highway: I tend to mow eastwards along the fence, then up the hill, and westward facing traffic along the highway. At least I can see what's coming.
That plant in the left corner is Joe Pye weed, and early this fall I'll probably show you it in bloom. To the right of that is the last one of the climbing roses left from those planted by my mother. This one has yellow blooms. And sharp thorns.
And who mows that grass outside the fence? Well, I do, with my trusty gasoline-powered push-mower. I have to be careful mowing close to the highway: I tend to mow eastwards along the fence, then up the hill, and westward facing traffic along the highway. At least I can see what's coming.
My mother had lots of potted plants scattered about the patio in warmer months, some on the concrete, some on baker's racks she had purchased, some on various objects she had appropriated to use as plant stands. Until recently these were the only ones I had left. We used to drag them into the house or the store just before the first freeze of the fall and out again when we thought the last freeze was over. By we I mean me, actually. It was a hassle. As they gradually died, I made no effort to replace. Tom had shipped two plants down from New York when he moved, a sort of palm tree and a couple of sea grapes in pots. He had bought the sea grapes from a florist in New York probably in the 1960s, before it was realized how endangered they were becoming. The last one of those died about 4 years ago, and that palm-like plant didn't make it though this last cold winter in the store.
I should know what these are called but I don't We've always referred to them as "the plants Mr. Lowry gave Mama." Mr. Lowry was my algebra and geometry teacher in high school. A mean son-of-a-bitch, but he was a great algebra teacher. (Not so much geometry, but that may have just been me.) He was the single male member of the garden club to which my mother belonged. (Don't make any assumptions about that: the man just happened to love flowers.) He shared cuttings of this plant at a meeting probably in the late 1950s. My mother stuck hers in a pot, it grew, and cuttings from it still continue to grow and flourish. It withstands the winters in the unheated store just fine, and just keep it watered and it prospers.
My kind of plant!
My kind of plant!
This citronella plant was given to me recently by a cousin to help ward off mosquitoes on my patio. I'm not sure it works and Wikipedia seems to agree with me, but it does smell nice and I do like it. Come cold weather I will have to figure out whether it can stand wintering in the cold store or whether I will have to bring it into the house. And whether the nice smell is simply too much for indoors! It is strong.
Yes, it is hot out there today, June 25, but this never seems to bother the crepe myrtles! These close-ups with clouds are taken at that bush at the northwest corner of the store. The crepe myrtles come in various shades of red and pink and purple, even white, but this color and shade is perhaps my favorite.
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Let's use these shots of the crepe myrtle in bloom to segue into Summer Part 2: Crepe Myrtle. I've got so many, and I want to show them off. If not to you, then at least to me.