Quiet Autumn Days

Mornings have continued to be cool and misty.

Yesterday I went out in J.'s old raincoat and my wellies to give Pebbles her grain and to feed the barn cats.

Pebbles had her hooves trimmed on Tuesday and is looking very smart.

I went into the upper garden to dig a few carrots for the beef/barley soup I had promised D.

Pebbles lurked near the fence knowing that she would be offered a carrot.

In spite of the drizzle I was reluctant to hurry inside.

I snipped fresh thyme, marjoram and parsley for the soup and brushed fallen maple leaves from the small lavender plants which I raised from seed.

The creeping thyme which I planted around the stepping stones in the herb garden has spread

 into a springy mat.

I had several catnip plants in the near end of the herb garden but removed them as they were very invasive.

I'm hoping the lavenders will over-winter and that the two seedling ones in the forground

will thrive and spread.

I need to add some low-growing plants along the cellar stair wall at left of the photo.

Kentucky Colonel Spearrmint, Apple Mint, Lemon Balm and Catnip are growing in front of the Red Knock-Out Roses by the garage wall. By August the mint stems had turned brown and the leaves had lost their  savor. I cut it back and the recent cool rains have inspired it to flourish.

It is possible to pick fresh catnip through much of the winter here.  New leaves huddle at the base of the stalk waiting to shoot up at the first sign of spring.  I may dry some catnip for winter as the cats love to wallow in a handful sprinkled on the kitchen floor.

Red Knock-Out Roses.  I have been disappointed in the hollyhocks [foreground] as some sort of tiny caterpillar turns the leaves to rusty lace. The hollyhocks which managed to blossom had rather feeble pastel colors which looked bleached out in the heat of summer.  I may ruthlessly uproot these!

The Michaelmas daisies by the grape arbor are at the height of their bloom.

This is a very tall variety as you can see here.

The scent of the Michaelmas daisies is brisk and clean.

Trumpet vine threatens to take over any plant or structure that it uses for support. J. pulled it away from this crabapple tree in the spring but it has crept back.

In New England a trumpet vine was something to be coaxed through the winter.  If it managed to send up hesitant shoots, let alone flower, it was a triumph.  Here, it is an invasive pest.  There are many volunteer plants in the dooryard, massive vines have been pulled down from the old barn walls, still they spring up along the boundary line woods and in the pasture.

These "puffballs" are edible.  J. has been slicing them to fry with onion, green pepper and sliced okra.

They taste very similar to Portobello mushrooms.

I have felt that my rugosa roses were not flourishing, perhaps not adjusting well to such hot and humid summers.  Roserie de l'Hay has put out a runner which has resulted in this  new seedling which I will carefully replant in the border.

There are still many garden chores to be done before cold weather, late crops to harvest.

Today I gave in to the need for some quiet time.

With the horse and cats fed, litter boxes clean, and breakfast cleared away, I pulled the wicker loveseat into a sunny patch on the front porch and made myself comfortable there with a book and a mug of tea.

J.'s old Raisin-Cat prowled around the yard, then came back to sprawl in the sun for a meticulous bath.

She surprised me by leaping up to my lap--which required that I move my book to accomodate her .

We stayed there until the sun slid around the corner of the house leaving us in chilly shade.

I tipped Raisin off my lap, unfolded myself and came inside to heat left-over soup and toast a bagel.

My book kept me company at the table while the cats milled in and out the sliding door.

They have been restless and twitchy this week, perhaps echoing my own response to the unsettled weather.

Willow prowls;

 Charlie has made a bed in the laundry basket.

Raisin and Teasel are politely edging each other for possession of the big rocking chair.

I stand at the sliding door for a moment, sniffing the cool scents of a damp autumn night, listening to the faint chirring of the cicadas, no longer the noisy nocturnal presence of July and August.

Across the hall pillows are piled invitingly at the head of the bed and there are books on the small table.

Perhaps if the mistress of the house leads the way, the cats will agree that it is time to call it a day!

A Bit of Silliness

After a damp and rainy start to the day, afternoon brought warm sunshine and puffy white clouds

drifting on a blue sky.

J. and M. were away, so I enlisted daughter G. and grandson D. to help demolish the left-overs from last night's roast chicken and fixings.

We made short work of the food and D. suggested we trek down to the creek.

Big Creek has recovered from the drought of August and its rippling surface mirrored the sailing clouds and the lazy downward spiraling of yellowed leaves.

G. is on a binge of decorating her porch in autumn  finds, so we gathered vines to be twisted into wreaths, picked up glossy acorns, judged the merits of various seedpods and grasses which might

be dried to add to a display.

I suggested a few ears of field corn could be tied into a spray for the front door and we were off, boots swishing through the tall dank grass, jewelweed and boneset which line the shallow ditch between the barns and the 15 acres leased out to corn.

.

I wasn't surprised to see that stalks on the outer edges of the field have suffered damage from wild animals.

It is racoons, and possibly possums, who topple the stalks so that they can feed comfortably on the kernals of drying corn.

D. pointed out that it would be deer who stripped back the husks and nibbled at the ears of corn, leaving the stalks upright.

Shouldering our way into the interior rows we found any number of places which bore the evidence of

four-footed diners.

Then---we all got purely silly.

[Be it known that I am usually of a fairly sober turn of mind.  If anyone can inspire me to sheer foolery, it would be G. and D.]

D. and I clown at the edge of the corn field.  I have my trusty garden clippers clutched, ready for action.

Look out--we're on the prowl!

G. put down the camera and plunged into the thicket of corn

providing me with inspiration!

G. had bundled up her ears of salvaged corn when I reminded her that there was apparently

a tradition of poor country people using corn cobs in lieu of fancy toilet tissue.

She struck a naughty pose while I threatened to administer discipline.

A salute from Cornfield County!

[Anybody remember Hee-Haw?]

The long edge of the cornfield borders the neighboring woods.

Here it appeared that raccoons had chosen their corn and carried it from the field to enjoy at their leisure

in the shelter of the vine-draped trees.

A tree had toppled near the fence line since I have walked there.

Its lichen covered trunk was an easy vault for D.

G. decided to join her son on the damp lichen-slicked trunk and began crawling from the broken end which rested in the tangled grass. She got part way across, looked down the four feet or so into the ditch and got the wobbles.

Mother and son share a love of ridiculous posing.

[I could be prejudiced in thinking they are a good-looking pair!]

We often see wild turkeys hurrying across the back pasture and I hear their wittering calls from the darkness of the woods.  Today I found two beautifully marked bronze feathers.

I daresay the turkeys are pecking up the corn kernals which the other animals

carelessly scatter.

Je te plumerai le bec.....

D. cannot resist the urge to be a "ham" for the camera!

As G. says, it doesn't take much to entertain us country folk!

The husks on this ear of corn had been pulled back--whether by hasty scrabbling claws or the

determined teeth of a deer.

It was already cool in the shadows cast by the two old barns.

D. discovered this garden spider who has strung her web between an upright edge of barn siding and a sturdy stalk of grass.

This grasshopper, his armour blending with the weathered boards

had no idea that he was enjoying his last moments of life.

The spider packages the unlucky grasshopper in a mesh of sticky thread.

Tex-the-Dog plods after his family as they load their decorative harvest in the back of the truck.

With the sun sliding behind the woods the air was growing cool

and we reluctantly headed back to our two welcoming houses.

Working in the Garden

Finally--a day when we could work in the garden.

By noon the soil had dried enough to use the Troybilt tiller.

Here M. and G. set out tomato plants.

Note Pebbles grazing near the garden fence--she likes to be involved.

M. is impressed with the quality of Kentucky dirt!

G. in full gardening regalia--the Linus bathrobe with plaid boots.

Afternoon sun shimmers over the blackberries and young fruit trees.

I took a break to stretch my back and was caught on camera by D.

He says I was "directing" the show by gesticulating with my tea mug.

J. and D. setting out tomato plants.

We have about 4 dozen out and several dozen still growing on in the cold frame.

D. commented that gardening was looking like it might be "time-consuming."

G. and I did a good deal of weeding in the perennial strips.  I divided and moved a clump of cranesbill, set in some lupines which G. contributed.

J. strimmed around the edges of the flowers beds while I hopped frantically in front of him pointing out things that mustn't be whacked.

I worked for several hours on my knees with the scent of roses wafting about my head.

Birds sang and we were visited by Willis and by Jinka, G.'s white cat.

A few more days of such weather and we may begin to feel that the garden is coming under control.

A Walk Around the Dooryard

A green-white clematis unfolds.

The strawberry patch in bloom.  Wet weather has prevented me finishing the weeding.

How many days until we pick luscious strawberries?

Pink-tinged leaves unfold on the ancient grapevine.

Iris buds are plump and swelling. One stalk by the clothesline is showing blue-black bud tips, but there is just enough breeze that my photos blurred.

The dogwoods are past their prime, but still have an airy prettiness.

J. and M. have both purchased and set out brag size hothouse tomato plants being sold at the Yoder's store.

Meanwhile my raised from seed tomatoes have all been potted on and most are enjoying the sheltered warmth of the cold frame.

Yarrow buds are still fuzzy white.

Blue salvia.

A full-blown clematis.

I love the pinks with their blue-green spikey foliage and the masses of fragrant flowers.

These are not quite true to color in the photo--their real colors are deeper.

Aquilegia opening in the shady strip on the east side of the garage.

The early pink peony.

This aquilegia has daintier flowers.

I had a lovely blue one planted in my struggling Wyoming flower strip--planted in memory of

my blue-eyed Oscar cat.

The papaever somniferum have come up in clumps in spite of my efforts to sprinkle the seeds about in bare places in the second border.

I can't decide whether to risk moving some of them [I seem to recall that they resent being repositioned]

or let them crowd their way to flowering and [hopefully] setting seed.

The new herb garden at the edge of the carport.

Delila Yoder helped me to do the final deep digging and install the weed barrier fabric.

We moved plants from other spots in the gardens. 

I hope to buy several more varieties of thyme and a lavender or two.

Delila contributed anise hyssop which she says will be loved by butterflies.

The weather has veered between several warm muggy days, a sharp thunderstorm last evening and a broody morning which turned to a cool and sunny afternoon.

Although it is frustrating having the ground too damp to work, everything is bursting with growth, including the weeds.

J. gave up on the trench he was preparing in the lower garden for the asparagus roots.

He opened a strip just beyond the track that leads to the barn.

We all pitched in to plant the crowns late on Monday.

Yukon Gold potatoes went in yesterday, as did short rows of beets, carrots,

Swiss chard and several hills of cucumbers.

Willis was too involved in his nap to follow me around the dooryard. He has appropriated this tapestry covered stool which ended up on the front porch.

Therese Bugnet is covered in buds.  I hope I can locate my collection of vintage

china jugs to hold a few fragrant blooms.