I suspect I have become tedious lately--life has been dominated by the garden and its proliferation of green beans, corn and tomatoes.
The drought of July has been broken, and now we deal with frequent bursts of heavy rain.
We went early to the other place this morning, Jim hoping to run the tiller through burgeoning weeds and then mow the grass before the predicted rain reached us.
As has been usual lately, the rain came on before we had finished our work.
Jim dug the first of the sweet potatoes and cut an over-whelming quantity of okra which has suddenly shifted into high production.I set myself to picking green beans [sigh] and peppers, then wallowed in to pull the weeds which have taken over in my cosmos and sunflowers.
[I hate to admit that Jim warned me I wouldn't be able to manage that long strip of flowers!]
Thursday was one of the nicest days weather-wise that anyone could imagine.
I sat on the porch for a few minutes after J. left for work--enjoying the freshness of the morning, the busy swoops and darts of the hummingbirds, the wisps of fog over the creek burning away as the
sun climbed higher.
The loud voice of a bird in the maple tree to the right of the porch summoned Willis who immediately took up a vigil, staring up into the branches.
It was an odd sound, a bit like the call of a mourning dove, but louder, more strident.
I fetched my camera, peered intently into the leafy canopy, but could detect no movement.
Whatever bird landed there apparently didn't choose to linger and come under the scrutiny of Willis.
Since I had the camera in hand I walked around the yard looking for a pleasant scene.
The old barns are just shabby enough to be picturesque.
The ghost of the moon still hung in the blue sky.
I decided to tackle the much neglected perennial strip nearest the drive.
The phlox and coneflowers faded early with the drought. I cut everything back about 10 days ago and with the rain there is now the promise of some September bloom.
In the lower left of the photo you can see the Michaelmas daisies [aka New England asters] ready to put on a show.
There are some shabby spots in the strip--in part because I have divided plants; my heavy pruning has resulted in a very diminished look also.
The earth was moist enough that the weeds came up with relative ease.
Still, I worked there through most of the day.
This kind of intensive gardening labor is not kind to an aging body!
The lower strip needs to be cleared as well; it has always been a rougher area.
Both strips need a new application of mulch.
The nandina recovered valiantly from the January freeze; the decorative berries are just starting to show a red tint.
Since Eggnog's passing Edward has been practicing at being a lap cat.
He is so large that he doesn't fit well in my lap and aggravates this by a great deal of turning and shuffling, so that I have to support him to prevent his slithering to the floor in a heap.
When I am at my desk he often installs himself in the bathroom sink, the half-bath being just off this
Better there than landing on my desk or overflowing from my lap onto the keyboard.
Nellie has a very mellow personality.
He can sleep for hours on the bed or sofa in positions of utter relaxation.
On the way outside with veg parings after lunch I noticed that 'Wise Portia' had a half-opened bloom held up to the onslaughts of the rain.
The rose hadn't been savaged by Japanese beetles, so I snipped it and brought it inside to enjoy its
color and perfume.
The ground will be too wet to garden tomorrow.
There are today's garden gleanings to be dealt with.
How contrary of me to be anxious each spring to plant a garden, only to grumble in late summer that I am over-whelmed by its success!