Early September

Mornings come softly. I am awake by 5, watching drowsily for the grey of night to diminish beyond my west-facing bedroom window, for daylight to bring the return of color . The cats know that I am not sleeping; they skitter in and out of the room, lumber across the bed, waiting for the moment when I swing my feet to the floor and walk quietly to the kitchen. At this time of year the pine floorboards creak underfoot announcing my progress. 

The barn cats, Willis and Sally, are waiting on the front porch when I turn on the outside light and slide their kibble pan into place. 

Several of the cats who spend nights inside poke tentative noses around the half open door, wanting out but wary of Sally who guards the steps with the ferocity of a troll.

The morning ritual seldom varies: pour water and spoon coffee into the machine; trudge downstairs to clean litter boxes, shower in the downstairs bathroom. 

Shelby-cat flies down the stairs ahead of me, rushes to the back door, twirling around my ankles, imploring me in her tiny voice to let her out where she needn't brave Sally's aggression.

By the time I come back upstairs Jim has emerged, coffee has brewed, blinds have been raised. Ground fog swirls around the garden,  grass is silvered with dew.

Most days it is noon before the grass dries. 

August departed with bursts of rain giving way to humid sunshine. With the turning of the calendar page to September suddenly the air cleared bringing cool mornings. 

Grass and trees remain green due to ample rains in July and August.

The garden is bedraggled; the glory of the sunflower hedge is over, the stalks dry, leaves sere and brown. Since this photo was taken Jim has removed the bean trellis, mowed and then tilled most of the garden space.

I sheared spent blooms from the zinneas nearly two weeks ago allowing fresher blossoms more room.

Orange is not one of my favorite colors, but this brilliant zinnea and the golden fritillary butterfly are eye-catching.

Samaritan Jo has put out a few fall blossoms, much paler than the spring profusion.

First blossoms on clematis Dr. Ruppell--the plant has struggled.

Prairie Sage, grown from seed.  I can see these plants will need staking next year to do their best.

Seed pods on Redbud.

First blooms on a New England aster grown from seed. The bees found this one the minute it opened.

A moody sunset after a sharp afternoon rain last Wednesday.

A mottled pastel sky at day's end.

Mid-August: Journal

A quiet evening, the air heavy and damp from late afternoon rain, darkness moving in early. Showers throughout the month have kept the landscape green, so different from other years when August has brought drought.

The tulip poplars that line the grassed-over lane drop yellow leaves with each burst of wind and rain.

At the bend of the drive as it joins the common lane to the main road, unripe black walnuts have dropped to the ground.

The sunflower hedge has taken a beating, some stalks broken with the weight of blooms. The shorter varieties remain upright but the blossoms are tattered. Goldfinches dart in to perch on the flower heads and nibble at the seeds.

Tattered sunflowers, dark against the sky.

Shabby beauties.

Bumble bees love the sunflowers.

There are a few buds still to open.

In the rather neglected plot at the north end of the house, coneflowers are past their best. 

I leave them in hopes of gathering seeds when drier weather prevails--and because the birds and butterflies love them.

The robust butterfly bush is thronged with swallowtail butterflies. Spent flower heads need to be pruned yet again.

Blackberry lilies raised last year from seed, the swelling pods laid low with rain.

The pink rose was labeled as a groundcover variety.  I think it would prefer to be a gentle climber.

Zinnias will hold their color until hard frost. 

Sunset colors after rain.

There was more coral and mauve in the western sky than my simple camera can record.

Matt and Gina attended the local Mennonite/Amish produce auction last week and scored a bounty of good canning tomatoes which they shared with us. [Sadly, our own garden tomatoes, though fussed over, have not been of superior quality.]  I have canned the tomatoes in increments as they fully ripened--with considerable help--the last 12 quarts were processed today.

I began the day with a burst of housecleaning--floors on the main level vacuumed, woodwork wiped down, furniture throws laundered and replaced with clean ones.

Howard's dogs arrived and approved of my efforts.

Mudgie is not a good fit for the shabby loveseat.

During the hot weather of July and August I have spent hours downstairs in the large sunlit room where I have set up both of my sewing machines. I've been challenging myself to take out projects which have languished through several years of frequent moves. 

I started the Ohio Star blocks when we were living in our Amish farmhouse; I brought them with me into the 5th wheel camper that was our abode during the building of this house, but there wasn't room to set up a sewing machine.

I began by cutting and stitching the blocks re the directions in the magazine pattern, but wasn't happy with the fiddly method which yielded too many difficult bias edges. 

I made more of the stars via the grid method which serves me well for accuracy. 

All of the printed fabrics feature pansies. Another set of these will make a second quilt with a different setting. 

I think I've found a local quilter who can finish these economically. I consider these 'utility quilts'--to be used, frequently laundered.

This quilt is special, created for a dear sister-in-law. I began work on this in March just before being side-lined for weeks with a DVT. The fabrics in the star centers were made from 'fat quarters' gifted to me several years ago--the star points are hand-dyed coordinates. I sent the quilt to Vermont to be machine quilted by a woman who lives a scant two miles from my old home there.

The batik cat fabric was from my 'stash' and made a delightful border.

Marion used a silvery thread for the quilting design.

More of the pattern swirls on the back of the quilt.

Hand stitching the binding in place to the quilt back required several sessions. As I did this I enjoyed the colors in the quilt, the closeup of Marion's work and my own--a satisfying labor of love.

The cats enjoy my sewing room--there's usually one on the sewing table--others sprawled on blanket covered chairs or sofa. I frequently need to discourage one from 'helping' when I have fabric spread out to cut or pin. 

Sewing projects are on-going--it doesn't appear that I will run short of fabric!

I close this rambling journal entry with a photo of signet marigolds raised from seed saved last year. 

Other plants in my container garden have languished in the hot weather, leaving "Lemon Gem' as the colorful doorstep greeter.

Today I can record the encouraging results of the ultra-sound done yesterday on my left leg: no sign of the blood clot remains.

Somehow, I don't think this signals a return to crawling about for hours on my knees in the garden. The past few months have been a lesson in 'moderation!'

 

Journal: Early August

It has been by all comparisons a mild summer; sufficient rain for gardening, temperatures hovering in the mid 80's--that is until the final week of July. Those days and nights reminded us of the punishing effects of heat and humidity. 

T-storms moved noisily through in the earliest hours of the 30th bringing rain that refreshed with moisture if not with coolness.

August has arrived in a mellow mood. The shortening of daylight  hours is noticeable, and evenings when I go out to water the container plants and the new raised bed have a sleepy quiet marred only by the chirring of cicadas.

Above you see the green bean trellis, an innocent appearing tangle of vines. I was side-lined at garden planting time so Jim took that over using a wheeled contraption fitted with disks slotted for different sizes of seeds. We are concluding that in most cases the seeds are spun into the row too thickly.

Thus with the green beans [Blue Lake Pole variety.] The seeds were slow in germination, then climbed the trellis and wound downward through the mesh, tangling and inter-weaving. A few beans appeared and I picked them, noting that they weren't of best quality. 

Mid-morning on Sunday I decided that I couldn't ignore the need to paw through the welter of leaves and stems to salvage a harvest.

I set about the task clothed in jeans, wellies and a long-sleeved denim shirt. I had to rummage for beans amidst the vines, lifting up the ones that had cascaded back toward ground level. 

Indoors again I shed the denim shirt and sat down for a minute with a glass of iced tea.

A strange slight tickling sensation on my right wrist caught my attention and close scrutiny revealed several moving things no larger than the dot at the end of a sentence. Suspecting some sort of spider mites had hitched a ride on my clothing I hastily showered and washed my hair.

Sadly, by Monday morning I was in misery from myriad insect bites and more have since popped out. 

Chiggers? Spider mites? 
A google search gives the helpful information that while all chiggers are mites not all mites are chiggers.

Several showers and shampoos later liberal applications of calamine lotion, benedryl gel, rubbing alcohol, have not lessened the discomfort. 

Like all such pests these travel to waistbands, collars, armpits, anywhere flesh is soft and warm.

I will spare you photos of lotion-daubed welts on aging skin!

The most violent itching and stinging is said to subside after three days, although the scabby bites will continue to be an irritation for about two weeks.

If you've not personally experienced the misery of chiggers, pray that you do not!

They are the sort of plague to be uncharitably wished upon someone you intensely dislike.

 

For whatever reason, Jim, after asking if there was any way to save the bean vines, 

backed a diesel tractor aimed at  the trellis and allowed it to sit there bellowing fumes.

I doubt it will banish the mites, but neither of us intends to touch the tangled mess of vines again.

Also on Sunday I planted a row of bush beans for a fall crop. 

A pox on vines and insect pests!

On a pleasant note, the zinneas are in bloom. I always plant a row for the blaze of outrageous color at the season when prettier more delicate blooms have succumbed to the heat.

Gaudy and cheerful!

The wild colors should clash, but somehow they mingle agreeably.

Zinneas are beloved of butterflies.

The sunflowers are slightly past their prime, but still standing, a boundary at the edge of the garden 'L.'

A slight second flowering of foxglove along the west retaining wall.

The butterfly bush was labeled 'dwarf' but has been inspired by the purchased soil in the raised bed.

This Monday morning was cool, 66 F at 7 a.m. and the noon temperature has swelled to 80. There is a slight breeze--a fine day for pegging out the laundry.

I have been tweaking the arrangement of the big room downstairs, setting up two sewing machines, bringing out quilting projects that have been neglected for some time. 

It is a pleasant space, a retreat from some of the annoyances of the day.

I am headed there now with a glass of fresh iced tea and a tube of benedryl gel. 

I hope sewing will help divert my attention from all the bites I shouldn't scratch.

 

Mid-July: Journal

Sunflowers always delight me, especially the varieties that branch with a succession of smaller flowers. 

I should tag this one to save some seeds for next year.

A burst of color!

One of the 'dwarf' varieties.

One of my fancier daylilies. 

I've given up hoping to keep weeds out of the rough strip along the driveway. Three years of hands and knees weeding, mulching, weeding again, have proved ineffective. The more robust plants there are able to deal with the invasion--lilies, iris, peonies, coneflower.

Gooseneck Loosestrife [lysimachia clethroides] has rampaged through the lower part of the strip in spite of my efforts to restrain it, so, let it go!  I've moved the bee balm and will likely move the remaining phlox and a rather pitiful achillea.

Thus far we haven't picked a single green bean. I chose Blue Lake climbers which were very slow to germinate. When I wasn't looking bean beetle larvae did some damage. The recovering vines have climbed their fencing and headed back down, finally starting to blossom. 

Picking beans through this tangle probably won't be a joy.

Jim has been poking in seeds of bush beans where he digs a hill of potatoes or pulls beets. 

The veg garden is now his remit--and he is most possessive of it!

New raised bed.

I've been setting in seedlings raised in my greenhouse as well as a few nursery plants. Jim placed the brick walk earlier in the week. I would like to extend the bricks outward for two more rows, but I think I won't suggest that at the moment.

Some creature--coon? possum? has been rootling nightly in the mulched bed. Several spears of the blackberry lilies have been munched and spat out, the tiny aster plants sampled. I've poked in plastic cutlery attempting to barricade my plants--not working well as a deterrent. 

These beauties have been laid almost horizontal by frequent rains, but their sweet scent greets me when I peg out laundry on the porch lines.  When working in the raised beds the perfume is heavy on the damp air.

A second view of the new raised bed--you can see that the nightly marauder has clawed open a bag of mulch.

Walking past the west wall garden this morning I stopped to tweak out a few blades of grass within easy reach. An hour later I was still pulling weeds, mostly clumps of grass.

Willis promptly showed up to direct my efforts, parading along the wall, getting in my way.

He doesn't like being asked to move.

Weeding is tiring!

This butterfly bush is one of two which I purchased as part of my first season gardening efforts here. [2019]  I planted them at either end of the wonky fence Jim hastily constructed to harbor my clematis vines. The purple buddleia didn't over-winter and this one was puny.  I moved it last year to the raised bed in the west garden which we enriched with bagged soil. Although labeled as 'dwarf' the bush has become a towering sprawl of branches. 

Clematis 'Jackmani' on the new trellis. 'Dr. Ruppel' on the other side of the trellis is struggling.

This is 'Arabella' putting out a few hesitant blooms on the makeshift fence.

June weather was, for the most part, cooler than usual, starting to be dry mid month, in spite of heavy rains over the second weekend.

July came in with cool nights and early mornings that were a delight. 

Hummingbirds are at their busiest when I take my mug of half-caff coffee to the east porch. 

Watering and tending the container plants on the porch and front patio takes a surprising amount of time. During hottest weather I water in the greenhouse and new raised bed at sundown.

Less than a month past the summer solstice it is interesting to note the earlier sunset, with the sun moving farther to the northwest in the evening.

In a world where so much is unstable, it is reassuring to watch the seasons progress in their orderly round, just as they have always done.