Sunday, July 22, 2012

Mid July Garden Walkabout Warm To Cool Temperature in Color

Here in Western Massachusetts the horrid heat wave has finally fizzled out. 
Kinder weather patterns bring lighter, more clement days and crisp nights, but we truly need rain. 

I do so prefer intensity in colors rather than extreme temperatures on a thermometer. 
Here there are vivid, hot colors, from varying flower forms of sizzling Hemerocallis, 
found floriferous and in fine fettle within the July 'middle meadow garden.' 

A quick look back and in the opposite direction both in time and landscape . . . just for fun . . . to the cool colors of late May and early June in the 'middle meadow garden'.

Once again in Mid July surrounded by hot oranges and reds.

The tall sleek stems of this warm daylily stretch upwards towards six feet in height.
A bluebird house stands empty and quiet in the background and sadly, the gardener must report . . .
 she missed the virgin flight of the fledglings yet again.

Certainly a chorus of joy to our earth . . . if only we could hear the songs.

A parade of beauty lasting only one day.
Each sunrise swells open fresh . . . pure in intense colors . . . corollas designed and destined to collapse by sunset.

Stepping down towards our oldest apple tree and the lower garden . . . serene greens, softer yellows and washed-out-whites await. 

Looking up through the apple tree archway from the blueberry field. 

I am carrying water over to the 'lower garden' for this stressed Hydrangea and find it amazing how quickly the leaves perk up from the drink.

Walking into the north garden the scent of basil drifts amongst pure white panicles of Hydrangea paniculata, 'The Swan'.

Cimicifuga racemosa stands along side delicate clusters of another nameless Hydrangea. When standing next to 'no name', it sounds as if an entire beehive is visiting. Speaking of sound . . . I love the hisses which are formed when pronouncing Cimicifuga. Sometimes I just wish genera could stay the same . . . now black bugbane, black cohosh or black snakeroot . . . take your pick for a common name . . .  is scientifically labeled Actaea racemosa.

The ever faithful smooth Hydrangea arborescens 'Annabelle' or 'Grandiflora' sumptuously falling over . . . 

mingling among berried boughs of Viburnum.
Numerous birds are mingling within the red berries too.
Now that the blueberries are nearly finished . . . these Viburnum berries are a real hot item in the garden.

My heart goes out to all those who are suffering terribly from severe drought . . . it is bad here but nothing like other parts of our country and the world at large.
May rain soon fall . . .  for us all . . . steady and softly . . .  for several days with sunny day breaks . . .  throughout the season.

Lastly, I leave you with some fresh and faded oranges that float about the gardens these days.
Monarchs offer another warm color to the landscape and teeny intricately crafted eggs to our milkweed plants.
The second butterfly image is proof that the toxic cardenolides within milkweed do not always protect Monarchs from preying birds.
I have nearly thirty jewel-like chrysalises hanging about my studio and look forward to sharing this years magical metamorphosis with you.

The earth sighs as Greenland falls into the ocean . . . our world's soul dreams for our awakening and action for change . . . in our daily lives and beyond.
Do our legislators know our names . . . our ideas and demands?
Why not let them hear our voices on a weekly basis.
Let's unite our voices as a chorus for our earth.

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