Lady's Mantle

Lady's Mantle 

(Alchemilla mollis)

A cloak of tiny chartreuse stars

wraps round, downy grey-green leaves

bejeweled by rain.

Alchemy,

beauty's miracle.

Deer are Nibbling my Hostas

The white tail deer explore the yard and nibble our hostas like salad greens.  They prefer the smaller white and pale green plants.  Why can't they eat the gout weed?  It has the same coloration.  

I had healthy hosta plants, now I have chewed stems. And they've moved on to the less favoured all-green hostas.  

These deer are no longer endearing visitors. They've become pests who are stripping the gardens.

Do you have any suggestions?

Daylily 2014

Daylilies bloom.

  

Over-the-top luscious; 

they throw everything they have 

into their brief lives.  

How wise.

Foxgloves in my Garden

Whenever foxgloves grow in my garden,

I think of my childhood.

They were fairy hats,

or dresses for tiny folk.

They were signs of magic, 

always a surprise,

always welcome.

Mysterious.

Climbing Roses in Bloom

Everything feels rosy today.  

The climbing roses are in full bloom

and I get to spend hours with my writing group.

What could be better?

Sweet Peas

 

 

These are Sweet Peas from my sister's and brother-in-law's gardens.  They pay close attention to their yard and gardens and it shows. 

Lily in Bloom

 

 

This lily is from my sister's and brother-in-law's gardens.  He took this photo of Lilium spp. "Stargazer" and said I could share it.

Portulaca

 

Portulaca grows well in the hot and sunny locations in our yard. 

 

This is a trailing type that fills an old oak half-barrel

in our garden, with bright blooms

and thick succulent stems. 

 

Portulaca comes in varieties of purple, orange, scarlet,

yellow, but we chose the fuchsia this year.

Chipmunk Chatter

This chipmunk lives in our rock wall and comes out to chatter and hunt for food, or sometimes just to sun.  He usually keeps a safe distance, but he popped out of a hole near the deck and didn't notice we were sitting there.  He is one of many who co-habit this property with us.  We were content to see him close enough to capture a good photo.

Wordless Wednesday

 

The season of roses

Chive Blossoms

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

 

Photo is copyright 2011-2013 Carol Steel

A Gift from the Garden

 

 

Wordless Wednesday

Photo is copyright 2011-2013 Carol Steel

Gardening and Weeding

I've not written on my blog this week.  I've busied myself with other writing and with working in my garden.  Well really, working on the weeding.

This house came with overgrown gardens.  Boy, were they overgrown.  We've struggled with taming them and have now worked out a truce of sorts, where we weed until we're tired out and then we sit around admiring what we've accomplished and drink a glass of wine. 

Taming them is work requiring a bulldozer. 

It's good to have a garden that demands we rest in between attacks on the weeds.   We've learned to enjoy them more because we can relax and pace ourselves and can accept that our gardens are just wild old things.

Perhaps we are becoming wiser or perhaps we simply like sitting on the porch with a glass of wine...

Scharlachglut Roses

 

 

It's cold in New Brunswick.  Not as cold as it will be later in the winter, but cold enough.  The daytime temperatures are just above the freezing point; night times are just below.  Yet look at what continues to form new buds, to burst into bloom, in the front garden.  Amazing hardiness!  Such determined gifts of loveliness, in a landscape that is turning to the greys of November.

Photos and words are copyright Carol Steel.

Gardens in August

In the past week, the days and nights have been humid, sticky, with threats of rain.  No rain comes, just misty moments or tiny showers, nothing that will nourish the grass, trees and plants.  It's dry.

Our garden is parched and brown; nothing exciting or colorful is growing here.  But just down the road in my sister's and brother-in-law's gardens, flowers are blooming.  Look at their lilies.

Their vegetable patch is flourishing; beets, beans, Swiss chard and cucumbers are all doing well.

Their hydrangea is blue and healthy, blooming with enthusiasm.  Micro-climates within a local area amaze me.  How is it one yard can do so well and another, not so far away, does not?  I suppose it has to do with the soil's composition and perhaps...with the gardener.  Possibly, they're simply better at gardening than I am.

Whatever the reason for the differences, I am grateful they allow me to capture photos and to enjoy their lush flowers and thriving gardens.

I love to be near their flowers.

All photos are mine and were taken after a flash shower.   

All flowers belong to my sister and brother-in-law.

Someone Stole My Gargoyle

Someone Stole My Gargoyle

Someone stole my gargoyle from my garden.

He has travelled from house to house with me, each time I have moved over the past two decades.  He sat next to my back door at this house for seven years. 

This gargoyle is not large, just ten inches tall.  He is not scary-looking, just impish sitting with folded arms.  He is not expensive like some garden decorations can be.  He is just not here anymore.

What he is or was…was important to me.  My daughter gave him to me a long time ago when I was going through a bad patch, bereft and alone.  She gave him in recognition that I love stories about gargoyles, in recognition that gargoyles guard sacred spaces, in recognition that I hold my home (wherever it is) as sacred space, and as a reminder of her love for me.

And now he is gone; someone’s prank perhaps or a bit of mischief maybe—who knows.

I’ve wandered the yard and the neighbourhood looking for him, though he is so small, he would look like a large stone if someone had just pitched him.

I am unsettled that someone walked down my driveway and into the path, walked through the garden, stood outside my kitchen windows, so close to my door, all to steal something of little monetary value.  Yet this gargoyle is of great value to me.

There are few items I own I can’t bear to part with.  I don’t attach myself to things.  I have moved often and have faced life changes often; enough to know that things don’t matter as much as people and relationships.

This gargoyle however I was attached to; he was a gift from someone dear to me, someone who wanted me, whenever I looked at her gift, to be reassured she loved me.

And now he is gone.

I’ll get over it.

I have a lump in my throat and tightness in my chest.

I’ll get over that too.

How easily this thief has inflicted pain.  A joke, a dare, a thoughtless prank, someone stole my gargoyle from my garden.

Senseless.

This photo is mine.

Unrestrained Summer

Unrestrained Summer

A single gold lily
cannot be melancholy
in this erotic garden,
where feathered grasses
fling their pale gold spray
and cover the earth
with seed,
where fragrance fills
the heated air
with rosy dreams,
and stray powders swing
on the backs of bees
fertilizing
every breath
of this
intoxicating
summer.


This is a response to The Sunday Whirl, a wordle poetry prompt in which one is to write a poem including the 12 words:  swing, fling, rosy, powders, melancholy, stray, grasses, gold, erotic, pale, cover, spray.   This is Wordle #66 for July 22, 2012. 

Red text includes hyperlinks that take you to another web page where you can find out more.

Photo is mine.

Iris

Years ago, we received a gift of Iris rhizomes from a relative who was dividing flowers in his own garden.  That gift keeps on giving.  The spear shaped leaves pop up and a long erect flowering stem follows.  Soon dense clumps of Iris bloom in our garden.

We have a variation of Bearded Iris, with golden beard, purple falls and mauve upright petals.  Some summers, the wind and rain bend and break the top heavy stalks.  Some summers, all the blooms die, ravaged by storms.

This June, we are fortunate to be able to look out and see a garden full of Iris flowers.  Lucky us.

The Ideal World

Sometimes, the way I think the world should be, isn't the way it is.  This is true more often than not.  But, what of it?

Well, for a start, it's good that the world isn't the way I fancy it should be.  What a poor world it would be, if it was limited to what my imagination could conjure.  For another, different perspectives stretch my views and opinions, and kick-start my thinking to travel into expanded horizons.

I like it when ideas and opinions are constantly stretching and expanding, especially when it happens to me.  I like the challenge.

For example, if I didn't know buttercups as weeds, would I see their sunshine and welcome them into the corners of my lawn?  Would my perspective change?

What if I appreciate the white delicacy of the flower heads of goutweed as much as I do the blooms of Queen Anne's Lace?  They sway the same dance in the summer breezes, in different spots in the yard.  Why is one a blessing and one a curse?

Is the feathered horse tail peeking from behind the columbine any less endearing than the feathery leaves of coreopsis?  If I don't perceive buttercups, goutweed and horse tails as plagues in my garden, will I be able to allow myself to enjoy their beauty and to spend less time weeding?

Perhaps the way I think about the world and how it should be needs to be more flexible, to be more accepting of the way the world just is.

If weeds are perceived...well, yes, as weeds, though not without their own charms, could I spend less time on them and more time on writing?

And wouldn't that be better for me?  Wouldn't it be better to change what I can, to accept what I cannot change and to be wise enough to know the difference.  Wait, I think I've heard that before...

Perhaps it's time to pay attention.

And to start writing...

Peony

Peony

longest living

showiest

hardiest of all perennials.

These photos are not mine; they are my sister's.  These peonies are magnificent and bloom

each year in their garden by the back door.  They are worth a visit.