Sunday, July 31st, 2016
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find as chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
Robert Louis Stevenson, Summer Sun
The weather in June and most of July was lovely. Not too hot, - little showers almost
every late afternoon, and sometimes the wonderful sound of raindrops on the roof,
all through the night.
It caused the gardens and the grass to sigh with delight and grow by leaps and bounds.
However, this last week, as we anticipate August, the Sun has harnessed
all his golden steeds and they have a merry ride through blue sky and summer clouds,
while we, down here in the valley, rise early to enjoy
the coolness of the morning, water all the pots and
do essential garden chores, and then busy ourselves with
blinds drawn, fans whirring and the A/C drying out
all the fresh summer air.
We had no air conditioning on the farm, but we set a sprinkler on the flat
roof of the house, and just the sound of water falling outside
the windows was enough to excite the imagination into some semblance of coolness.
Mornings see me out early watering pots and putting aside
pails of water for those plants that start wilting in the noonday sun.
The beds retain the moisture more efficiently, and there is the usual little jungle
that passes for an English garden. Truly, it is too riotous
with tall yellow barn flowers and rudabeckia to qualify as a beautiful
pastel English garden, but where the perennial sweetpeas provide a background
for the purple bee balm there is a faint hint.....
Cast your eyes elsewhere though and it's mid-summer-madness-in-yellow, most everywhere.
The lilies have been lovely, - especially the Regals with their intoxicating scent.
Only this one red lily remains, - it surprised me one morning amongst all the yellow daisies
This last week the pink roses at the front gate have begun their second flush, but what really thrills me is the replacement for the Abraham Darby, lost to the frost.
It is not vigorous, but very sweet and nicely scented, and I think it will do well in this more protected spot.
(the pretty apricot rose down below is the Abraham Darby, - blogger won't let me move it here where it belongs - and I don't suppose I will be able to squeeze Mister
Lincoln in here either, so I will add him down below, as he has been blooming continuously amongst the scarlet Bee Balm)
And the phlox - in full bloom in both the front and back gardens, It makes me dream of a 'moonlight' garden, with its wonderful white virginity.
The oleander that spends the winter indoors is blooming its heart out this year, and has grown about four feet tall - it will have to be repotted.
The piece de resistance at the moment is the Rose of Sharon that guards the steps to the house.
Not the tidiest of shrubs as it drops its lovely blooms each day,
but spectacular and very eye-catching....
The little rainy season brought us some gorgeous skies, and by slipping out the back
I was able to get some nice pictures, - even here in town with all the wires and poles.
For those of you who acknowledge the White Rabbit and are inclined to put any faith
in his ability to bring luck to the dog days of August, don't forget,
tomorrow morning, - first thing - toss him a verbal obeisance.....
