Hot Colors/Hot and Humid Weather

The trumpet vine is another delightful surprise. I didn't recognize the twisted woody stump that lurked near the crab apple tree. I clipped it back, wondered about it each time I walked by. Last week I noticed some roadside renditions of this, and a few days later this one was in bud. Trumpet vine was marginally hardy in Vermont, but one climbed the front porch at the home of my elderly friend, Esther Jane.

The lily bulbs were a "free gift" included in our Starks Bros nursery order.  This is the first one to bloom.

Nothing can look "hotter" than vivid orange.

Achillea, "Paprika" is holding up well in the heat.

Monarda or "bee balm."  I think this is the variety "Jacob Kline"  Looked for the plant label this morning but it has gone away.  It isn't the old "Cambridge Scarlet"--could be "Gardenview Scarlett."

This echinacea is the variety "Summer Sky."  It opens in an orange sherbet hue and then fades to a pink.

[And I'll have you know I took a flashlight outside just now to read the label.]

I planted French marigolds amongst the squash and cucmbers.  Who knows if it really repels bug-kind?  It makes me feel that I have done something "green" and constructive.

The chrome yellow of zuchinni blossoms.

J. retches dramatically at the thought of zuchinni--I find them ever so versatile.

To cool us down after all those brilliant colors, the hydrangea.  I was hoping it would be the old-fashioned mop-headed type that goes a pinky-beige when it is fully opened.  I think I won't like this if the flower heads become huge BLUE puffs--I like them right now with their chartreuse hue.

Cool and pretty.

I was able to weed in the flower border for about two hours this morning before the heat became stifling. When I stand up from my labors and feel my head go "giddy" I know I need to to quit.  J. spent the time hoeing the potatoes.  We speak of them as "his" potatoes.

We are running the A/C in the house the past few days.  To step outside is to feel as though one is being gently smothered in a hot, damp blanket.

The cats are liking the smooth cool wood floors--they sprawl in odd places and I have to walk warily.  They have sulked a bit that the sliding door is shut.  They can see the birds, but can't hear them twittering.