Signs of fall

Carpe-ing the diem

This fern showed up as a volunteer among the pansies.



Here comes the sun.

I come to the garden alone . . .

. . . while the dew is still on the petunias . . .

I think that was Fanny Crosby's first draft.

Over the wall!

My dog takes the great leap from deck to yard.

Sun and wind

Particular blooms and plants

Marigold. Pretty, huh?

This petunia bloom looks like it's made of purple velvet.

The heliotrope bloom. The first time I saw a heliotrope, I wondered if it was some kind of miniature lilac. The flowers looks similar, and they also smell sweet. And the good thing about heliotrope is it blooms all summer.

I can't remember the name of this plant, but it's so pretty, the succulent leaves, the orange-colored blossoms, the little terra cotta pot it's in, and the stone surface of the table it stands on.

Even the water on the stone surface adds to the beauty.

Sunlight and flowers

I have six pots of this lavender variety. I love its silvery green leaves. When I leave to walk my dog, I drag my hand over the plants as I walk by, just to stimulate the fragrance. And isn't it particularly beautiful in a terra cotta pot? So Tuscan, so Mediterranean.

Yesterday was a flashback to our hot days of summer, after a good few days of cooler weather. I don't like the heat, but I did love the way the bright sunlight made the leaves of the calla lily glow and become translucent.

And I love the way the sunlight makes the red begonia so vibrant.

And the contrast between the shade and light on this barrel of impatiens and creeping jenny.

Fuchsias and calla lily

Miscellaneous deck views

The herb barrel

A few weeks ago, the thyme in my herb barrel died. I think the hot weather got to it. By Western Washington standards we had a brutally hot summer, also dry--hardly any rain. It's been hard on the deck plants, especially since after work I often lacked the energy to stand around watering them as much as they needed.

I happened to see a thyme plant outside the Lynden Safeway, so I bought it. It is golden thyme. Here it is still in the little pot I bought it in, sitting in the herb barrel.

Now I planted it.

And here is a closeup of the golden thyme.

Late summer

We finally got the "water feature" up and running, to enjoy for these last few weeks of summer.

Earlier this summer my dog saw a cat in the back yard and went flying over this little retaining wall before he knew what he was doing. Now he knows he can do it, he frequently takes the leap when I have him out on the deck with me.

Views from the ferris wheel

Went to the Northwest Washington Fair last Saturday, and I went on the ferris wheel. I've wanted to do that for some years, and it was great. I took these pictures with my cell phone. I didn't know how to aim it just right, and I was afraid of dropping it out of the ride, so they're a bit constrained. And the colors from the cell phone are not as good as with my digital camera.

I loved going slowly around while they loaded the cars, then more quickly, but not too fast around and round. The breeze felt great.

It was a long wait for short ride, but much of ife is like that. My mom was with me, and that was fun, too.

If we could harness this energy

what couldn't we do?

Who wouldn't?

Wildness

Renegade petunia. I have all purple petunias, but recently this pink one came up.

Volunteer verbena. I have all red verbena, but these pink and purple ones came up.

I suspect that in both cases they grew from flowers I had last year that seeded. They showed up rather late in the season. I guess they needed the extra time to grow from seeds, while the ones I planted probably were nurtured in greenhouses earlier in the season.

Time's winged chariot

You might have to click on this picture to see it, but what I liked were the yellow petals sticking to the roof of the bird feeder.


A slightly decayed and dilapidated look are part of a garden's appeal. Why is that? It must be the same idea that goes into "shabby chic," the wanting things to look aged and used, and finding that attractive.

We should be more that way about ourselves, too.

A garden has many delights and many lessons. One lesson is the brevity of life. These pansies, for example, are past their prime.


The lobelia are drooping in this pot. It's partly the advance of the season, partly the heat we've been having. Last night we had a thunderstorm, but before that endless days of relentless sun and heat. Not a typical Northwest Washington summer. We do usually get some hot, sunny days in July and August, but this year the hot weather started in June, and we've had very little rain.


The lobelia in the other pot are beyond droopy, perhaps beyond recovery. If I were more consistent in watering and fertilizing, they might have lasted longer, but with being gone from the house for ten or more hours Monday through Friday to go earn my living, I don't always have a lot of energy to devote to my plants when I am home. And weekends, they have to share with all other tasks and errands waiting to be done. However, they are a fairly high priority, just because I love them better than some other parts of my life. My deck has received more attention than the interior of my house, and I've spent more time tending plants than doing housework.


Robert Herrick has this good poem tying together the brevity of garden life and of human life:

To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time
1648

Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day
To-morrow will be dying.

The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he's a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.

That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.

Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may go marry:
For having lost but once your prime
You may for ever tarry.

I'm not sure I agree with the third stanza. It's true that youth is the best time of life for marriage and childbearing, but I'm not sure that it's the best time of life, period.

. . .

I browsed the net and through books of poetry looking for something that expresses what I think (what oft was thought, but ne'er so well expressed), but now I have to get ready for church.

Sweet rains

Sweet the rains new fall, sunlit from heaven,

Like the first dewfall on the first grass.

Praise for the sweetness

of the wet garden,

Sprung in completeness

where his feet pass.

Scenes from the deck, Part 7

At the west end of the deck, begonias and lobelia.


Begonias and lobelia. Sometimes lobelia will just up and die, for me anyway. So far, so good with these guys. Only one casualty, reasons unknown.


This is actually, an indoor plant, my spider plant. I bought it for my living room because a tag said it could tolerate having very little sunshine. But after some months in my living room, the windows of which are overshadowed by the upper deck, it expressed, "Very little, yes, but not THAT little." So I brought it outside for a little sun therapy. When (if?) it recovers, I'll plunge it back into deprivation.


Here's the best "deck"-oration of all. :-)