Garden Reel

Right at this moment, I have a desire of my heart as I sit in the garden, cool morning breezes wafting, geese signaling, while I type and post. The air and view out here exceeds that of the indoor wall. Of course, other sounds punctuate the air—a car alarm, the muted flow of traffic and a jet soaring overhead; where is it bound? But these have their place just as the unseen noisy crow to my right has his. Changes are in the air too—a bit of upheaval though thankfully temporary. The apartment management has decided that since they are raising the rates exorbitantly they can say, “But look, we’re cleaning and painting the buildings.” Outside that is, and brown. Thankfully, it looks better when it’s dry since when it’s wet it’s dark brown with a hint of green…er…very organic looking. So, I have to bring indoors every last plant, pot, bag of potting soil and the garden furniture. That will be tight but thankfully temporary. According to a famous rabbi story one of my Jewish friends tells—we will be amazed at how much space we have indoors when we move everything back out to the garden again!

I’ve potted a couple plants into “real” pots that were still in their greenhouse plastic pots. They’ll grow better, stand taller and be less likely to tip over—and there will be fewer empty pots to corral. One long Italian-made pot that I’ve carried with me for over twenty-five years has split horizontally. It worked fairly well as long as it stayed in place but I didn’t want to risk trailing soil across the carpet so I pulled a not so decorative Italian pot (ribs rather than leaves) from the wings and replaced it. I guess some autumnal fixing up is good though I wish they cared as much about the inside. But then, that would be major upheaval and I have enough of that for now.

Outdoor Writing

Today is another Red Hibiscus Day. The weather was so mild, I was able to sit outside for awhile to write. Now, it’s not so mild. Lots of plants are blooming or on the verge of blooming and the birds are singing. It’s good.

Prodigal?

This morning as I opened the blinds I saw a young bird (a birdling?) perched on the edge of my birdbath. It looked around furtively then, apparently assured that no one was watching, jumped into the water for a quick bath and flew out again as quickly. Then it caught sight of me watching through the slats and flew toward me, grasping the screen in its feet and clinging there—not very far from my face; I was glad for the window in between! What did it want? Was it trying to get in? The little wren looked frightened. I worried about it. Was it sick or injured? I didn’t know, but I prayed and was reminded that Jesus said that not even a sparrow falls to the ground without his Father knowing it. And you know, other than being hunted by cats or crashing into reflective skyscrapers, I’ve rarely seen a dead bird along my way. The Lord assured me that he takes care of little Carolina Wrens too. The bird was still clinging to the screen when I came back for the camera—a seemingly long time for the odd angle. After a bit, it flew under the eaves and hunched against the wall. That seemed like progress but it still looked like a fugitive. I finally went about my other business, being concerned that if I opened the door to go out to the garden, the bird would change places with me. The next time I looked, it hopped from plant to plant, hopefully eating unwelcome bugs—definitely a good sign! A little later, I heard a chiding sound much like that of a squirrel reprimanding a cat; it was a mother wren. She hopped about with her strained cry, looking all around for her runaway. Don’t ask me mama wren; I have no idea where your baby has gone so don’t fuss at me.

Patiently Seeking

I finally got my magenta impatiens over the weekend for the shadier part of my garden and planted them this morning. For some reason, this year magenta ones have been harder to find with the nearly day-glo red ones and white ones dominating the garden centers. However, I’m finding that locally-owned garden centers are more likely to have what I’m looking for. Even this exotic plant from tropical Zanzibar! Impatiens don’t need much sun; keep them moist and they’ll bloom profusely when nearly everything else has given up for the summer. When I find the right color of coleus, I’ll add it for a colorful combination that lasts. As it turns out, the name impatiens, apparently does come from impatience because their seed pods will spring open with little prompting. http://landscaping.about.com/od/flowerseed/p/impatiens_plant.htm I like to leave a few spent flowers un-deadheaded so that I can have the fun of opening the little spring-loaded seed pods and watch the tiny seeds fly out to their new home in the soil—sometimes I don’t have to buy any new impatiens the following spring! With my last round of planting came a backache and stiff legs that didn’t loosen for two days so this time I brought out my folding art studio chair rather than my kneeling pad. Hopefully, I’ll survive this round better. I spent quite a bit of time gardening outdoors today. The rainy air felt good. The frogs and birds sang their pleasure and the plants basked in the humidity.

Salad Days

The record-breaking temperatures in the high 80’s have me thinking about salad since the kitchen is too hot for much cooking. The lettuce seeds I planted a while back are coming along nicely and should be big enough to eat soon. Since there is still room in the other half of the pot, I planted more seeds.

It’s actually cool outside—cooler than the 78 degrees in here; for some reason the breeze just doesn’t blow through the windows today—but pollen does. But birds are singing and the sun is shining. And it’s Friday. What a great combination! Now if my computer would behave properly…

Are We There Yet?

The daffodils have bloomed for weeks; the flowering crab trees are covered with diaphanous pale red-violet blossoms—on a recent night I saw some surreal-looking ones with light-wrapped trunks. Today’s the second day with temperatures in the mid-70’s. The birds think it’s spring. Who am I to argue with the birds?

However, yesterday’s happy chatter has turned to nervous twitters. The birds know that the weather isn’t right. We’re under a tornado watch all day. I don’t wish it on anyone else but I don’t want it here either. Please pray.

Venturing Out

I heard it was nice outside so I ventured out. It is! The birds agree. And look what I found—the first Sweet William blossom of the year!

But what is that creature in the foreground of the picture?! Why garden sculpture of course, a.k.a. silly straw. When I saw packs of silly straws at the grocery, I knew they had the right combination of color, translucency, interesting shapes, and sized to fit my small garden—the price was right too! I’ve not heard of this anywhere else. Now you can try it—remember, you saw it here.

Birdsong

I’ve finally found a way to identify all the lovely birdsong I hear around my garden; the singers aren’t always visible since they’re often hidden by bushes. A website, birdjam.com has fairly long selections of various bird songs. I found my avian friends by clicking on the picture that is labeled “City Birds”. The song I’ve often written of sounding like a swing screeching as it turns on its bar turns out to be the signature of the tiny black-capped chickadee. The “cheer-up” singer is the American Robin; robins also seem to have a “swing-screeching” call.

To some this may seem fundamental—why would a gardener and general lover of creation not know these things? We had cats while I was growing up. The more stalwart blue jays weren’t thwarted though and occasionally swooped down and pecked the cats’ heads just to make sure they knew who was boss.