No Two Days In the Garden Are The Same

(Spring blooming old English rose)

'Flowers really do intoxicate me.' ~Vita Sackville-West

The garden, in its magical wonder, constantly and continuously changes. So quickly the hours flow into days, then weeks, and months. Seasons pass. From the first cheery crocus spangling the dreary February landscape to the cherished chrysanthemums hailing a brilliant autumn, a succession of flowers take center stage to enchant, then fade, their time spent. If I've planned correctly, new blooms will appear in their place, and I won't have gaps. A short while ago, the roses were magnificent, and I reveled in their silken blossoms, white and peachy-pink petals fluttering to the ground like snowflakes in the breeze. Now that first long-awaited flush is past and only a few plants are left in bloom. The roses will revive for another riotous color fest, but the despised Japanese beetles are arriving and will plague the plants and me for weeks to come. Any gardener not suffering this scourge should rejoice daily. 

(Climbing Ballerina Rose)

During the dratted beetle season, I look to the lilies for glory, and they do not disappoint. The oriental lilies scent the garden with sweet perfume and tree lilies stretch to amazing heights. I'm lily mad and forever planting new bulbs. They're rather like Easter eggs, in that I hide them and await discovery, particularly as I often forget what kind I planted and where they were tucked. Plus, one of the online bulb companies sent me potluck instead of what I thought I'd ordered. Adds to the surprise, I suppose. I really must pay more attention to who sent what if I want to complain, but I know I didn't order knee-high yellow lilies. Not that they aren't pretty, but not what I intended. A whole lot like life. 

I do what I usually do, forge ahead and try again. 

(Forever Susan Lily)

I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheeks are covered with smiles. ~Emily Dickinson, 1865

(Gaillardia with bee on it)

(Bee balm with bumble bee)

The bees are summer-busy every sunny afternoon... ~Hal Borland

(Cream Veranda Rose)

(Fragrant Tree Lily)

Give me odorous at sunrise a garden of beautiful flowers, where I can walk undisturbed... ~Walt Whitman

(Oriental Lily)

Why try to explain miracles to your kids when you can just have them plant a garden. ~Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com

Where the Fairies Dance

Our farm and wildflower border along the road

Some of you may feel as if you live on the far side of the moon, or the sun, if you're cooking under 110 degree heat. I melt when the thermometer hits 80 and the humidity soars. This week temperatures will rise into the 90's. Living in the lovely Shenandoah Valley of Virginia, which reminds me of The Shire (The Lord of the Rings), we are spared the worst of summer--usually. The amount of heat we get zapped with is plenty for me. I'm a spring and fall junkie because I love the cooler temps, infinite blue skies, and welcome the much needed rain. Our part of the valley tends to be dry, but our farm has a deep well and I drag the hose around to water. It's a lot of work, though. Not that I'm one to complain. 

We've had a splendid June this year. To venture forth outside in the early morning is pure joy. The garden reveals fresh wonders no matter how often I go there. Even if the earth is parched, beads of dew sparkle on the glistening leaves like tiny jewels. Morning makes all things new. 

I'm incredibly fortunate to be surrounded by this mini Eden and gratified to help bring it to life. I also give nature and our creator, God, quite a bit of the credit.  

As I reluctantly bid early summer adieu and brace myself for hot July, I will seek the beauty. And keep watch for fairies.

June Roses

"Our love of outdoor life is hereditary; Adam was a gardener. ~Poor Richard Junior's Philosophy, The Saturday Evening Post, 1903, George Horace Lorimer, editor

My little bit of earth in the front garden is one of the places that I find my bearings. The rhythm of my day begins with a cup of coffee and a little bit of weeding or dreaming. ~Betsy Cañas Garmon, betsygarmon.com

Everything, from kings to cabbages, needs a root in the soil somewhere. ~Woods Hutchinson, A.M., M.D. (1862–1930)

Plants give us oxygen for the lungs and for the soul. ~Terri Guillemets

I sit in my garden, gazing upon a beauty that cannot gaze upon itself. And I find sufficient purpose for my day. ~Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com

And with that, I agree.

The garden is a magical place. God walks the garden at dusk and the fairies dance at dawn. 

*** Images of my June garden.