Hi, August. It’s me.
Listen, I’m not going to beat around the bush on this one. I’m just going to dive in and let you know . . .
It’s over between us. I know I waited until the end of your days to tell you this, but I was really hoping you and I could have worked things out – maybe come to some sort of agreement on the nature of our relationship. That seems to be out of the question now.
Each year, I hope to look forward to your arrival, but you are very skilled at trying my patience – and as quickly as my expectations rise, you find every opportunity to walk all over them.
Take my impatiens. Please. When I first saw that they weren’t thriving, that their stems were barren of leaves, I blamed myself (not enough water). Then I blamed the slugs (they had to be munching all night). And then I learned about the fungus. Maybe you didn’t create the fungus, but your heat, humidity, and rain games certainly didn’t help.
Have you ever caught yourself looking so ridiculous that you say to yourself, “I’m glad I’m not the subject of a hidden camera show.”
That is my thought each morning as I leave the house, walk to the car, and feel the silky threads of spider webs across my face. And this morning was no different, as I tried to balance my briefcase and tote bag while frantically wiping the sticky filaments away — only to feel them invisibly drag across my ears and into my hair.
When I remember to, I’ll leave the house empty handed – so I can walk to the car swinging my arms in front of me like a malfunctioning robot to knock down any webs that might be at face level. Then I’ll walk back to the house, grab the brief case and tote bag, and race back to the car before the little buggers have a chance to reload. (I suppose a broom handle could accomplish the same thing, but that would look odd — wouldn’t it?)
At this stage of the summer, I feel as if I am as exhausted as the plants in the yard. In fact, I am hard-pressed to find blooms that have not already been photographed and posted in previous “Bloomin’ Updates.” But the task was not completely impossible, thanks to some friends, some surprises, and some guests.
This Pineapple Lily was given to me by friends, Catherine & Robert, when they arrived for dinner. I had never heard of a pineapple lily, but after reading up on it, I learned that they are from South Africa and require little care. In my cold hardiness zone, however, I will have to bring it indoors for the winter, and then restart the growing in the spring. I'll keep you posted on this new project.
Last year, I planted a bed of Celosia "China Town." This year, I was treated to this surprise, self-sown, and very proud of its hot red stem. Yes, I could have weeded this out, but if a seed has managed to live against all odds, then it deserves the chance to live its full cycle. That being said, I think I'll plant them again next year. A full bed of red leaves, red flowers, and red stems truly looked gorgeous.
I know this is technically not a bloom, but try explaining that to this guy. This spider creates a web each night. Joe and I tried to get a photo, so between my camera flashing and Joe's holding a flashlight, this is what we captured. The spider and the web seem to sparkle.
Never mind Broadway's "Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark," this spider is probably telling us to turn off the light.
We turned off the light, and surprised ourselves with this photo. Actually, I'm okay with spiders, as long as they keep their webs away from where I have to walk. There's nothing like walking to the car and going face-first into a web.