Posts Tagged ‘flowers’
Still Blooming
Nearing the end of the second week of October in my part of the world didn’t used to involve rose blossoms. These days, this kind of outdoor plant behavior is not all that surprising.
Asher and I were visiting the labyrinth to top off the water bag around the maple tree when I noticed the flowers. They stood out against the drought-influenced fading life and fallen leaves all around them. I was struck by the fact the rose bush was able to do so much with so little moisture available in the ground.
I must admit, it feels somewhat futile to try giving one tree a tiny bit of extra water while the rest of the growth in the surrounding woods is left wanting.
The fall colors have been less spectacular than some other years but it is changing.
As dusk settled in and the half-moon stood out brightly in the sky, the uncharacteristic warmth of a summer evening on this October night was simply the new normal.
While other parts of the world are coping with floods, our little nook in Wisconsin, USA, is warm and dry.
With rose blossoms.
Like Fireworks
The multiple colors of lily blossoms exploding around here lately look a little like a fireworks display.
Rumor has it that our hay field is going to get cut today. We’ve waited a long time for this to happen and we heard this same rumor about two weeks ago so I’ll believe it when I see it.
While we look forward to having our fields cut, I’m not happy that my neighbor who mows at the shortest possible setting chooses to cut grass well beyond his property’s border. I set my mower at the highest possible setting, so when this neighbor expands into my turf, his cut really messes with the visual of my landscape.
I know it would be prudent to have a conversation with him about the fact that it irks me, but who wants to tell a neighbor to stop mowing your grass? It does bug me that he tends to expand the distance of his overreach with each successive instance.
I wonder if planting lilies along the line of our property border would give him pause.
Most likely, they would never have a chance to bloom before he shaved them off at ground level. For now, I’m choosing to grin and bear his actions out of an abundance of caution to avoid upsetting him in any way.
If I never say anything, maybe he will eventually mow the whole width between the road and our fence someday. Before I let it get that far, it would be smart if I could persuade him to lift the blades to a higher setting when he cuts beyond his property line.
Based on the visual evidence of his extensive range of mowing, he seems strongly committed to cutting everything to “putting green length.”
He must consider me some sort of lawn barbarian.
.
.
Color Splashes
Shorter hours of daylight are becoming more noticeable but the colors of summer flowers are as vibrant as ever around the house at the lake. Not that the length of a blossom isn’t limited. I took a picture of one bright flower when I arrived last Thursday and then noticed how quickly the look of the whole planting had changed by last night.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There were plenty of colors still glowing from the plantings Cyndie and Marie and helpers installed around our landscape in the spring.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
After a substantial dousing of rain a couple of days ago, we were dismayed to see how much of the beach sand had washed away into the lake. It happens all the time but is no less disturbing to see the large rocks and hard soil exposed where it was previously soft sand. Even though the DNR is against adding new sand to the shoreline, that seems to be a fix that is called for in these instances.
There is a rake being stored among other gear on our beach by the caretakers that I’ve become very fond of using. It occurred to me that I could try dragging prime-quality sand from the water’s edge using this rake to cover the exposed surface after heavy rain.
It worked better than I imagined it might. In fact, after subsequent showers the last two days, the improvements I achieved were still holding fast. I believe I have discovered a new activity to entertain me while hanging out on the beach that feels so much more productive than sand castles, sculptures, pyramids, holes, or pattern drawings that I am naturally inclined to create.
Too bad I will be departing for home this morning and exchanging lake escapades for dog duty, horse care, and lawn management. Cyndie stays up for a few more days to help Marie entertain guests, giving me a chance to pretend I live alone –a welcome feature every so often for couples who’ve been together for over 4 decades.
You know, sleeping diagonally on the bed, leaving my stuff out wherever I please, skipping a meal if I feel like it, or watching guilty pleasures on tv.
One downfall, however, I won’t have my hero around to soothe my nerves in the case of any unwelcome close encounters with our resident snakes. It’s as if they’re slithering in herds these days. Anna, our animal sitter over the weekend, sent us a picture of a disgustingly large shed snake skin that showed up on the driveway. [shudder]
I much prefer our splashes of color to come from flowers instead of wriggling reptiles.
.
.
Praising Chewy
It is unfortunately rare to hear as many stories about good customer service as there are bad experiences out in the world. Cyndie and I have a new appreciation for our primary online source of pet supplies after receiving exceptional support from the Customer Service personnel at Chewy.com.
When we struggled with treating our dog, Delilah’s mysterious illness that eventually took her life this month, Chewy was there for us before and after. Our veterinarian prescribed a special food that Chewy was able to provide, as long as we showed them the instructions from a vet.
Prior to Delilah getting sick, Cyndie had just ordered a new 50 lb. bag of dry food and a box of canned food. That package was delivered to us after Delilah started vomiting regularly. The only reason we opened the box was that it also contained some pill pockets that we tried when attempting to treat Delilah’s stomach with meds.
After nothing worked and we chose to end Delilah’s suffering, Cyndie contacted Chewy to ask if we could return the unopened box of prescribed food. The response she received surprised both of us.
Offering heartwarming condolences to start, with no return required they credited us not only for the order of special food but also for the previous purchase of foods that Cyndie hadn’t even asked about. They suggested we donate the food to a local rescue or shelter in Delilah’s memory.
A few days later, we received a delivery of roses from Chewy with further condolences for our loss.
Granted, our perception is soaked in emotion, but the understanding that Chewy as a company has demonstrated in this instance has put them on a pedestal of customer service greatness for us that is going to be hard to beat.
.
.
.
.
.
Incidental Accents
I suffer to imagine how plain my world might become if I lived alone. Once again, I am tending to the day-to-day alone while Cyndie is away from home. My meals have become embarrassingly simplified. I don’t change sheets, I wash the ones I just slept in and put them right back on the bed. I move from one chore to the next methodically, practically.
Too often, I take for granted the myriad enhancements Cyndie bestows upon our surroundings. Incidental accents that subtly enrich my environment, not only visually, but energetically, too.
As much as I like having alone time, the void created by Cyndie’s absence greatly impacts the cost/benefit ratio.
Where do the magical flower blossoms come from that are scattered along our pathways? I don’t have anything to do with them. That’s all Cyndie’s effort.
I usually walk past all the places she stashes them without noticing, but the other day, I spotted this one that looked like it was reflecting the expanse of starry space, light-years beyond our planet.
That priceless morsel wouldn’t be here if it were left up to me at this point in my life.
I might fail to pay worthy attention to the flowers, but I will never fail to appreciate that the compliment of Cyndie’s and my way of doing things is so much more than just the sum of two parts.
.
.
Nature’s Fireworks
Our lillies are popping open like Independence Day fireworks, …except without all the noise pollution.
.
.
Yeah, Summer
Here’s the thing about summer: it’s not a thing. It’s not one thing. It’s a constant transition from spring to fall. You don’t get dandelions and corn on the cob all at the same time. There are cool days that feel totally out of season and oppressively hot and humid days that bookend the cool ones.
Maybe that is why it seems difficult to do summer justice at any given moment. Summer is a whole lot of moments.
Flower blossoms radiate for a limited number of days before they begin to fade in color and lose their shape.
Already, the earlier sunset is noticeable. County fairs produce thoughts of the summer-ending Minnesota State Fair. Plans are being considered for shopping back-to-school sales. We may as well start preparing our Halloween costumes and Thanksgiving menu. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
That’s just about how fast it feels.
Don’t blink.
My bike trip is history. The birthday has come and gone. The fourth of July has passed. How long will the rest of the summer last?
We need to pay attention to something summery every single day for the next two months.
Summer will last just as long as it lasts. I plan to notice it in its entirety.
.
.
Latest Observations
Okay, I admit it. I am officially getting old. In the good ol’ days, my lovely wife luxuriated in the summer heat while I sweltered. We rarely turned the air conditioner on, preferring to let all but the most humid of summer days fill our living quarters for her comfort.
It’s no longer like that today.
I walked in the door yesterday and immediately sensed she had turned the air conditioner on again, after we had opened up the house on Sunday night. It was cold enough for me that I needed to put on long sleeves.
I am now the one who gets cold while Cyndie is too warm.
It reminds me of the decorative flowers Cyndie planted around the grounds. The petunias appear to be perfectly happy, but the marigolds haven’t changed since they were put in our soil. Maybe the marigolds were old.
Or maybe it’s just been too cold for them.
Last weekend was basically our first real heat of the summer. Progress for many of the growing plants around here is looking rather stunted, now that I think about it.
The old saying, “knee high by the fourth of July” is just not happening this year. Fields that did get planted are all maturing just about as fast as Cyndie’s marigolds.
Our wild raspberry bushes looked like they weren’t going to bear fruit at all until just recently. I haven’t seen it for myself yet, but Cyndie says they are just starting to blossom with hints that there might be a lot of berries. I love her optimism, but I fear the amount and size of berries are more likely to be less than impressive, given the stunted growing conditions.
Maybe I’m not getting old. It’s probably just the type of weather we’ve been having.
.
.
.
Animal Interference
Cyndie planted marigolds around the property last week, including in a clay pot by the barn. It provided a nice splash of color in the otherwise gray-green environment on the backside of the barn. I spotted it right away as I passed by on the lawn tractor. One of the flowers had already been nipped off and was laying on the ground beside the pot.
Animal vandalism. What do they get out of biting off the blossom?
The next day, I passed the pot again on my way to the chicken coop. All the blossoms were on the ground. The only thing left in the sad pot was several stubs poking out of the dirt. Poor Cyndie, I thought. Her efforts dashed so swiftly after she had done the planting.
When she got home, I made sure she had seen the carnage. The next day, while I was at work, I received a text from her with a photo:
The culprits had returned to dig up the root bundles, too.
They really don’t want her to grow flowers in that pot.
Yesterday, I was able to claim an hour to sit on my bike seat and pedal down some country roads in preparation for my upcoming bike tour in the middle of June. I’m proud to say that my 1994 Trek 520 is performing admirably, and most important, quietly.
I love a quiet bike. Squeaky brakes, clicks, chain noise, or any repetitive sounds from rotating pedals or spinning wheels are a bane to my riding experience. Since my bike rolls quietly, any sound that does appear is evidence of a problem that needs to be checked out.
On my return leg last night, a sudden clicking arose. I stopped pedaling immediately and tried to identify the source. It was regular enough that I worried one of my tires had picked up something and a flat could be imminent. It got louder and louder, but also more defined.
It was refining into a rapidly repeating click-clack, click-clack.
I recognized that sound and it was not from my bike. I turned my head to glance over my shoulder and saw behind me, a young lady approaching on a galloping horse.
Just as she was about to come up beside me, a barking dog ran out of a driveway and interfered with our chance to exchange a pleasant greeting. She slowed her horse and I picked up my pace to put distance between me and the dog.
The rest of my ride home toward the smoky orange sunset was blissfully quiet.
the
Florida Chill
The morning was cold enough that there were wisps of evaporating moisture rising from the heated pool. I enjoyed a swim to start my day, despite temperatures in the 40s (F).
Yesterday was Fred’s actual birthday, so we updated the chalkboard sign in the kitchen.
Fred was off braving the chill to get in a round of golf, so the rest of us went on an expedition to visit Farmer Mike’s U-Pick flower and produce operation.
On the way home from the farm, we stopped for some nourishment at Dolly’s Produce Patch and Eatery. It was a little early for lunch, thus our choices ranged from Blueberry Scone, to a slice of Key Lime Pie, to my cup of freshly homemade Cream of Broccoli Soup.
The soup was divine.
The bulk of the afternoon was filled with reading and a nap in the sun, and then preparing for the grand finale of the day.
Birthday dinner for Fred would be at Real Seafood restaurant in Naples. It carried on the theme of divine food. I honestly intended to take a picture, but was so immersed in the experience, taking a picture never crossed my mind.
We were extremely well fed in every way.
.
.
Relative Something 