With the heatwave that moved into Eastern Tennessee this week, the trumpet
lilies are bulking up quickly. First to pop is Shenandoah, the luscious
smelling yellow that has the distinctive blush of plum on the outer petals.
The plant that has pushed blossoming is the one that came up and merged two
stalks this year into one. Facination is what an unusual growth pattern is
called, and this plant is wild looking.
Like Siamese twins, the double thick stem started rising up and showing me
special support would be needed, then it split and became two stalks and
each one is loaded with buds.
One stalk on the left has ten plump, long, finger-like buds, with a few
mishapened and under developed buds that are expected. But the left
branching stem has over 20 buds all along the top portion of the other stem.
Three underdeveloped buds out of all of them. The showing will be crowded
but amazing. Last night when I got home, the one that had burst open (on the
left and lesser bud count) smelled up the air wonderful making inhaling a
luxurous experience. When more open, their fragrance will slide thru the
bedroom screen and smell me to sleep.
Southern Belle's have also returned but now bulked up. I suspect that I
might have to lift her. I'm speaking of Delta Queen daylily. Huge, blousy,
clean lemon yellow flowers that while enormous, hold their court like ladies
and instead of shouting at you, just seeing their huge beauty is what you
see in the sea of green leaves all around her.
Survivors in the containers are all kinds of Hemerocalis. A deep red one in
the pot near the lilac. The show stopped in the foam planter of Siloam
Little Fairy has blessed me with seven flowers today. Way too few flowers of
the Siloam Ury Winniford with the creamy blooms and huge purple eyes.
And more of my silly and wonderful "Jesters", my monarda's. The first
arrivals are the Mrs. Bradshaw, the reds. Soon I hope the purple ones will
attempt showings, despite the crowding of the Korean Spirea which by the way
is setting those wonderful little pink catapillar like buds at the ends of
all the stems. I still have to cut back the main shrub. I suspect when I do
this, I might get even larger flowers on the ends. And I do so adore them,
just not at the expense of the flowerbed's space.
Jesters on the very far end of the western front bed are up and Gooses are
gaggling thru the tall green leaves of everything, poking their heads up
thru the foliage and looking so endearing. Today I tuck in one of the only
two surviving Beaujolais Lysimachia to hopefully mingle the deep burgundy
flowers that look like the darker counterpart of the white Gooseneck
Lysimachia. I don't regret some invasives.
The heat is settling in, and the raised beds beckon me to do some early
morning watering with the icy cold well water before it gets too hot. The
dawgs have come in without being called (I tend to prop the nook screen door
open so they can come and go since starting to close the iron gates across
the driveway to keep them from visiting Miz Mary).
Felines are now in various favorite spots, sunning or shading themselves,
depending on the puss. Polluxx or Pudd, spent some quality time with his
"daddy" my oldest son, then pushed the door open and sauntered out and took
advantage of the open door and went outside to claim his royal perch. Either
under the van, or on youngest son's car down below on the concrete driveway,
under the neighbor's old yellow beat up truck towards the front, smirking at
me, or regally sprawled atop my car that sits under the apple tree's near
the out building.
Piquito, the great frog murderer is a hair ball at the moment and been
terrorizing the aquatic residents of the BBQ pit fountain (the fountain part
isn't functioning at them moment because of need of another pump) and can't
make up his mind to sleep or harrass.
The old lady of the house, Pye, my mottled tortoise and sole survivor of the
females in my cat family is mad at me, since I locked her out of her doorway
to her upstairs castle. She likes to hang out in the computer attic room
that oldest son used for his computer room. It's mostly boxes of books and
random chaos and plenty of places for her to reign without disturbance. But
when she wakens and realizes the food and water is downstairs in the kitchen
(and the outside facilities) she trills and kvetches until someone takes
pity and opens the door up.
Son's hours are turned around with his temporary job at another Lowes during
3rd shift, and he doesn't sleep the sleep of the dead during the daytime. So
when I can, I lock her out, which makes her mad, as well as frustrates
Piquito, as his prime spot is on the balcony in a chair among the tropical
shade loving plants.
So Pye is a meatloaf under the table in the main chair, quietly hairing up
the cushion in her protests of being locked out of her upstairs boudoir.
Pesters, Rose's kitty, alias Mr. Krusty, is doing what he adores to do
during the spring and summer months. He rolls in the dust of the driveway
and wherever he finds a dusty spot. All I need do to call him to locate him
is go pssst pssst pssst, and he fires up his transporter and materializes
before my feet, asking me if I'll indulge him in his can of mush. We spoil
him for his skin allergies and since seeing a can of mush once a day to
suppliment his cruncies that I give everyone else has improved the shine and
skin conditions greatly on his fur coat, he always assumes I'm calling him
to have a bite to eat. He's pathetic and pitiful, sounding like we NEVER
Outside the birds have quieted down and are doing feedings of their
fledglings and not calling as much attention to listeners like my cats and
hawks and such. Mockingbirds and Bluejays and other arrogant birds are the
only ones raucous enough to sing as loudly now as in the early spring. And
the beautiful Indigo Buntings or Eastern Tennessee bluebirds. Their
melodious song is a tribute to the pastures and life in the country and it
wouldn't be the seasons without their songs capturing your ear as you are
outside or pulling out of the road below me that has two pastures and woods
lining the pastures. So far.
Thankfully I've discovered that the lower neighbor's farm might be growing
more fallow, but his daughter and her husband intend on making the bulk of
the land a preserve for the critters, as the land has awesome views of the
mountains, hillsides, other ridges and the lake, but development isn't even
a consideration with them. So that assures me that all the wildlife that I
take now for granted will have a home when the rest of the acreage below me
developes. I hope it's years up the road..............
Time to water the loose and fast draining raised beds. The fairies call me.
Hummers are rummaging thru the deep blue mouths of the Blue Egnima, and then
going over to the ant laden deep throats of the Trumpet flower where a
hummer can literally be swallowed up the flowers are so large this year. I
hear their squacks and squawks and the trill of their flying in the late
madgardener, up on the ridge, where the dragons are teasing me with their
promises, overlooking English Mountain in Eastern Tennessee, zone 7, Sunset