Mostly Flowers--And More Than A Few Words

It wouldn't be springtime without at least one bluebird coming down the chimney.

Thimble-mese alerted us to its presence in the stovepipe. Jim shooed all the cats into the sunroom before opening the stove door and capturing the bird when it fluttered out. 

He carried it to the front porch and released it.

Digging about in the newest raised bed I discovered this seedling black walnut. Every year I remove a number of tulip poplar and black walnut baby trees that have taken root in the flower strips.

 I've found two very similar nests blown from a tree. The lining is white hairs gleaned from our neighbor's elderly mule who resides in a pasture across the lane.

I'm not sure why I save fallen nests--except that I've always done so.

I placed both nests on the second shelf of an open cupboard in my bedroom.

I was aware that Thimble with her insatiable curiosity, was intrigued by the nests.

I wasn't prepared to find them both shredded on the floor in front of the cupboard.

This one is interesting because of the unfinished bottom. It doesn't appear that a cowbird or other marauder attacked the nest. Its almost as though it might have been knocked from the tree limb before construction was completed.

One of the perennial foxgloves I raised from seed.

David Austin rose 'The Poet's Wife' in her glory before the rains began.

The bush was full of blooms full blown, half open, still in the bud, more floriferous than I've ever known it in spite of weeks of drought. Heavy rains came on and the branches were beaten to the ground. All that remains of the flowers is a spread of soggy yellow petals on the surrounding soil.

Another David Austen rose, 'Queen of Sweden.' 

This is a more upright bush with thick stems. 

It also took a beating from the rains.

This morning I clipped damaged blooms and pruned the bushes back.

The nasty little sawfly larvae have begun their destructive work, so just as well to prune now and let the roses have a rest.

I moved these miniature lilies from the west wall bed and gave them a tub to share with a poppy.

I am delighted that the poppies seeded into several of the plant tubs and pots, as well as migrating to the large bins with plants moved to make space for the front porch construction late last summer.

Several poppies made the trip to our daughter's garden as well. 

Other varieties planted over the years have failed to self-sow; I wait each year for these to appear where ever they please. Often a bud opening early in the morning is gone by evening, especially if there is wind. I enjoy these plants in all their stages of growth, the buds slowly unfolding from within the sheltering leaves, open blooms, the shapely seed heads.

A bee gleaning.

A clump of poppies near the gravel walkway to the porch.

 Next years crop in the making.

Spotted [or spangled] fritillary.

The earliest of my nasturtiums to germinate, assorted seeds from last year's packets. 

These are also sharing a pot with a poppy.

I didn't buy fresh pansy plants this spring. The parent plant in this tub wintered over and produced babies. 

Sage growing in the newest raised bed planter.

I had a huge sprawling sage that lived in the scruffy raised bed alongside the front walk, a space covered over when we built the front porch. It was an amazing plant, unique among the many sage plants I've had in various gardens. It tumbled over the edges of the bed, covered for much of the summer in dark blue flowers. 

Jim did his best to dig adequate roots when it was moved, but it refused to settle into its winter quarters and promptly died.

Tri-colored sage and purple sage have never survived a winter here.

Meet Cat Ballou!

Howard knows I love solar powered garden lights. He and Shannon found this green-eyed cat at Rural King and brought her to live with me.

Clematis Jackmanii, always the last to flower, but it continues well into the summer with repeat bloom in autumn.

Petals strewn beneath the trellis.

More poppies pods, just because.

My newest planters!

Matt discovered a local handyman creating these to order.

Matt and Gina wheeled in with two of these for me, supplied the soil and many of the plants.

This one is on the front porch. 

The deep pink flowers are 'pentas' dearly loved by butterflies and hummingbirds.

Planter number 2 on the covered back porch. Pots with a 2nd sowing of tomatoes are tucked amongst begonias, nepeta and wallflowers--getting acclimated to outdoors before I pot them on.

When Matt and Gina stopped here after a foray to the Amish produce and plant auction, the back of their truck was filled with plant trays. Matt wasn't even sure what he had acquired--the trays held a mixture.

He pulled out a butterfly bush, asked if I would like to have it.

I snatched it with a shriek of delight--I lost two splendid butterfly bushes when the fire claimed my greenhouse and the plantings along the outside wall.

As Matt rummaged in the plant trays it became evident that he had a half dozen or more butterfly bushes--all labeled 'Steel Blue.' The blooms on several suggest a lavender-blue color.

Devin and Jim helped me select these large pots at the C-ville Wal Mart when I accompanied them to collect a Dodge truck Jim bought. 

These had been potted up only a day when they were pummeled with a down pour.  

My plan is to grow them on through the summer months and hopefully have a more permanent location to set them in before cold weather.

My lemon verbena moves inside for the winter and puts out a few weedy tendrils. 

Once the weather is mild enough for a move to the back porch it is pruned heavily and rewards with fresh growth.

Foxgloves wintered in one of the bins [only 5 of a dozen survived ] and tiny seedlings dug from beside the parents plants on the west wall. 

So, as I've puttered about while Jim tackled the ugly work of clearing up from the fire, I've been more than usually inspired by my outdoor surroundings. 

The poppies and roses, the volunteer plants that have survived and proliferated; the busy squirrels, the hummingbirds who are now thronging the feeders in combative groups.

I think of the refrain from the song in 'The Sound of Music'--the listing of 'favorite things' and the assurance that, 'when the dog bites, and the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad, I simply remember my favorite things--and then I don't feel so bad!'

Its been a rather rough two months since the fire [and still no word from the insurance company!] 

I'm thankful for the season of spring and its beauties to help me through the mess.