Walking After Rain

Torrential downpours on Sunday, but no rain on Monday or Tuesday. 

This will be remembered as the summer of rain!

We expect drought through July and much of August here. This year our lack of rain was in early spring.

Yesterday [Wednesday] started as a day of sunshine with clouds occasionally drifting across the sun.

I spent much of the afternoon downstairs working on a quilt in progress. The large windows face south onto the back porch and the tree covered ravine beyond the now grass-grown lane.

Taking a break to stretch, I stepped out to the porch; the sky to the west was overcast and a slight breeze was bringing the scent of rain. Moments later the rain arrived, a half hour of staccato bursts.

Although the storm was brief it left  us with an early green dusk, a shimmer of fog and the muttering of distant thunder to the northeast. 

A shelf of cloud floated in the western sky.

I've not walked the meadow loop often in the extreme heat and humidity of the past weeks, but felt the urge to pull on my boots, walk to the mailbox and back through the upper meadow.

Hay has grown rankly since the Beachys last mowed and baled.

Jim has been too busy with barn renovation to bushhog the edges. Black walnut seedlings have sprung up along the north edge of the meadow, no doubt a product of the busy squirrel population. 

Rain has revived the flowers in tubs and pots near the front steps--rain working a magic that is seldom equaled by efforts with watering can or hose.

I didn't save the tag for these--hoping to recall the name, or at least recognize the plants another  year at my favorite nursery. They have bloomed, undaunted by heat.

My sunflowers are canted in all directions, still blooming.

Goldfinches are already gathering, keeping watch on the seed heads.

Every year I plant sunflowers designated as 'dwarf' and every year they tower above me. It occurs to me that perhaps it is the flower heads that are 'dwarfs, not the stalks.

Coming down the path I find that two clumps of purple coneflower have seeded along the edge of the woods. Perhaps birds carried the seed.

It was only a bit past 6 p.m. EDT but the lower meadow was haunted by green darkness. 

Pokeberry has flourished in the moist shade of under-story bushes and trees.

The south ravine is deepest here providing a boundary between our property and that of our neighbors.

For several seasons the power company came through and sprayed the area in an attempt to provide clearance for the electrical lines. I was surprised to see how this summer's unrestricted growth has filled the gulley with sumac, sassafras, and small, crowded tulip poplar.

The first heads of Joe Pye-weed are in bloom with goldenrod in the background. 

The undergrowth is so thick that it would be perilous to attempt walking down the slope. 

The 'gap' filled in with rampant green growth.

We worked outside this morning, Jim at his barn project, while

I dead-headed the small butterfly bushes which have thrived in these large pots placed just below the front porch.

The blooms are a lavender-blue.

The white buddleia, not as spectacular as those I've had in shades of fuchsia or purple, is cherished for its persistence in living through several hard winters.

I noticed it on a 'reduced for sale' table at Sunny Day Nursey several  years ago and felt it deserved a chance. 

Looking east a few minutes ago.

These great spangled Fritillaries don't mind that the coneflowers are prostrate.

A perfect Swallowtail on a coneflower in the overgrown wall border.

I fret about out of control weeds, but birds and butterflies don't mind the untidiness. 

Something of a lesson there [?]