Time for Autumn

~

“For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity.”
.
C.S. Lewis
~
~
“This is a wonderful day,
I have never seen this one before.”
.
Maya Angelou
~
~
“I cannot endure to waste anything
so precious as autumnal sunshine
by staying in the house.”

.

Nathaniel Hawthorne
~
~
“He found himself wondering at times,
especially in the autumn,
about the wild lands,
and strange visions of mountains
that he had never seen came into his dreams.”
.
J.R.R. Tolkien

~

~

“There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood—
Touch of manner, hint of mood;
And my heart is like a rhyme,
With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.”
.
Bliss Carman

~

~

Photos by Woodland Gnome 2017

~

~

 

Advertisements

WPC: Layered

~

Our lifetime, like our environment, is built of uncountable layers. 

Ben Huberman reminds us of this in his weekly photo challenge today, and asks us to explore the various meanings of layers through our images.

While some of us may already be reaching for an extra layer of warmth when we head outside; there are also many of us still discarding as many layers as we safely can, when we muck through the humid heavy air of hurricane season to capture our images.

~

~

I found these images on Sunday afternoon, as Hurricane Jose swirled off the coast,  all at a single stop along the marshes of Jamestown Island.  I was wearing far too many layers for comfort that afternoon, yet wished for an extra layer or two after the first few mosquitoes had their way with me.  Invisible predators sipped from hand and ear as I worked.

Just as I crept towards the last dry edge of the marsh, a Great Blue Heron startled, taking off from his hidden sanctuary beyond the reeds.  It reminded me that there are always layers upon layers of life more than we may every perceive.

Senses tuned, listening, watching, smelling the brackish air;  his presence still escaped me until he burst into the air in a massive explosion of determined wings, only a few feet ahead.

~

~

Yet once he took flight, it wasn’t his presence which intrigued me, so much as the tiny crabs scuttling along on the muddy shore as the tide pushed back in.  These tiny crustaceans, each with one giant claw, make their lives and livings in our brackish marshes from south of Virginia Beach north throughout the rivers and estuaries of the Chesapeake Bay. Masses of them appear from the reeds as the tide recedes.

I have fond memories of watching them with my daughter when she was small enough that I held her in my arms, pointing and laughing with her at their antics.  We have changed so much; they, not at all. 

~

~

Maybe that is one of the comforts nature offers to us.  We can watch the same tree grow over our lifetime.  We can see the same birds and butterflies and even tiny crabs again and again through the decades of our lives.

We watch each season melt into the next; sunsets fade to reveal the star filled firmament above us.

~

~

And yet, for all of that lifetime of seeing and hearing and smelling and tasting; we never quite discover all of the intricate layers of our world.  There is always a little bit more out there to discover and to love.

What a wonderful challenge this life presents to us, to know and to feel and to grow.  Not that all of it is beautiful.  Not that all of it makes us happy.  Not that all of it is even pleasant.

But it is incredible in its complexity, its balance, its depth and its ability to still surprise us.

~

~

Yet to know it, we must be out there in the midst of it all, peeling back layer after layer of ourselves in our search for experience.

What lies beneath all of these layers?  What will we find if we can only watch long enough?

~

~

Photos by Woodland Gnome 2017

~

~

For the Daily Post’s

Weekly Photo Challenge:  Layered

~

Native Beauty

Virginia thistle growing with goldenrod and beautyberry on Jamestown Island, Virginia.

~

We headed out onto the Colonial Parkway yesterday afternoon, to see what we could see.   We were watching for signs of the changing season, and of course watching the sky for signs of the approaching storm.  Hurricane Jose was swirling out in the Atlantic, well away to our southeast.   Even so, the outer bands of this enormous storm were already creeping across our sky.

Once we reached  the ‘roads less traveled’ on Jamestown Island, we were delighted to see bright purple beautyberry, Callicarpa dichotoma , bright golden Solidago, yellowing marsh grasses and occasional reddening leaves.

The outer tips of branches on our native dogwoods, and some maples, have begun to change into their autumn finery.

~

~

Yellowed Poplar leaves have been falling for weeks now.  A few inky purple berries still cling to magenta stems on the many native Aralia spinosa trees lining the road.  Their leaves will soon turn golden, too.

We stopped in a few of the pull-offs on the island to read the signs yet again, and for me to hop out to take a few photos.   As we approached one pull-off in particular, along the longer Island Drive, I was intrigued by the bright wildflowers and purple berries right beside the road.

~

A pull off on the longer Island Drive on Jamestown Island.

~

In addition to the vivid beautyberries  which lined the whole of the road in abundance, and the stands of goldenrod, there was something uniquely different.  This had flowers like a thistle, but on a radically different tall and lanky plant that I’d never noticed before.  What was it?

~

~

The wild thistles we’d seen on Ocracoke Island, many miles to the south, were much stockier and shorter plants with larger blossoms.  I quickly ruled out perennial Cardoon, and every other ‘thistle-like’ plant I’ve known.

We have a passing acquaintance with most all of the native trees, ferns and perennials in the area.  And this one was new to us.

Perhaps we’d never visited the island at precisely this point in the seasonal progression before…  And so I took lots of photos, and determined to investigate the plant later, at home.

~

~

As it turns out, the plant we found is a native of the Southeastern United States, called Cirsium virginianum, or Virginia thistle.   A biennial, it prefers moister, sandier soils along the coast.  It has a dangerously thorny stem, long thin leaves, and had grown a bit taller than I stand.  In some areas along the Gulf coast, it is considered a ‘noxious weed.’  But in Virginia, it is still relatively rare, at least in my experience.

I enjoyed the natural combination of its lavender blossoms growing against a back drop of purple beautyberry, with a skirt of bright goldenrod.    For this forested, marshy island especially, this was a rare colorful sight along the road.

~

~

The beautyberry is rampant now in our garden, too.  In fact, so many volunteers have appeared that we often must cut them back throughout the season.  This is one of the plants I cut back hard in early spring to somewhat control its size.

~

One of the larger beautyberry shrubs in our garden, which we cut hard every spring, reaches up for the lower limbs of the dogwood tree which shelters it.

~

Solidago has self-seeded in sunny parts of our garden, too.   And we have a single berry-topped Aralia proudly presiding over it all.  A neighbor tipped me off to how badly the Aralia can sucker, and so I ruthlessly cut out the many small clones trying to grow up around the main stem this spring.  I suppose that will be an ongoing part of our garden routine from now on.

~

Our Aralia, in its first season of bloom, surrounded by native Phytolacca americana, or pokeweed, another rampant native plant.  The birds love these berry laden natives.

~

There are definite advantages and disadvantages to inviting native plants into one’s garden.  It is something to consider, especially for aging gardeners who want neat, easy maintenance landscapes around their home.

Native plants self-seed easily, and often grow and spread with enthusiasm.  It can take great effort to control them, especially if they establish on good garden soil, in areas tended and irrigated to keep them productive.  We are nearly overrun with the stunningly beautiful Rudbeckia hirta and Rudbeckia laciniata.  They both quickly claim far more real-estate than a gardener plans to give them.

~

Three natives growing together in our front garden: black-eyed Susan, Rudbeckia hirta; mistflower, Conoclinium coelestinum; and obedient plant, Physostegia virginiana.  A Master Gardener friend gave us a large clump of obedient plant this spring. I divided it into several smaller clumps, and planted them in different areas to see where they perform best.  I am thrilled that this beautiful plant survived our summer drought and is blooming this first year.

~

The R. laciniata wasn’t even invited; a gardening friend gave me a clump of white Monarda passed on from her friend, and some R. laciniata roots just happened to be in the clump.  But these gargantuan, flower covered plants are now filling my former ‘butterfly garden.’  I must tend to their removal this fall, when the weather cools, and weed them out ruthlessly next spring.

~

Rudbeckia laciniata now fills what once was our butterfly garden, filled with various flowering shrubs and perennials.  I intend to weed most of this out over the next month, sharing it with a friend who wants it!

~

The Rudbeckia hirta I shared lavishly with all gardening friends who would accept a few this spring.  I dug up clump after clump, and still have the largest, lushest stand of it, ever.  There are worse things than a sea of golden flowers come August and September, I suppose.

The rich drifts of perennials one admires in public gardens are attainable with natives, without stretching the budget, I’ve learned.

~

~

This is the season for native plant sales, sponsored by local native plant societies.  This is a good service for communities and enables more of us to grow natives, if we choose.  While I support the effort in theory, I must admit that in general I prefer more curated, controllable cultivars.

~

Self-sown Solidago in our garden, a week and a half ago, nearly ready to bloom. It has just begun to show color, and will be fully in bloom by next weekend.  This huge perennial attracts many pollinators and provides late season nectar for our bees.  But, large natives often shade and crowd out the more desirable cultivars of perennials one has purchased for the garden….

~

Yes, I acknowledge the many and varied benefits native plants offer wildlife, and we absolutely grow our share of natives here.

That said, a word to the wise:  carefully research and observe any native plant you want to grow, before you invite it home to your garden.  Let  the natives you grow remain natural beauties, and may they never cross that line to become noxious weeds, overtaking your garden.

~

Obedient plant with black-eyed Susans

~

Woodland Gnome 2017

~

A waterway through the marsh on Jamestown Island

~

“In the rain forest, no niche lies unused. No emptiness goes unfilled.  No gasp of sunlight goes untrapped.  In a million vest pockets, a million life-forms quietly tick.  No other place on earth feels so lush.  Sometimes we picture it as an echo of the original Garden of Eden—a realm ancient, serene, and fertile, where pythons slither and jaguars lope.  But it is mainly a world of cunning and savage trees.  Truant plants will not survive.  The meek inherit nothing. Light is a thick yellow vitamin they would kill for, and they do.  One of the first truths one learns in the rain forest is that there is nothing fainthearted or wimpy about plants.”
.
Diane Ackerman

 

 

Sunday Dinner: Solitude

~
“Solitude is independence.
It had been my wish and with the years I had attained it.
It was cold. Oh, cold enough!
But it was also still, wonderfully still
and vast like the cold stillness of space
in which the stars revolve.”
.
Hermann Hesse

~

~

“We live, in fact, in a world starved
for solitude, silence, and private:
and therefore starved for meditation
and true friendship.”
.
C.S. Lewis

~

Jamestown Island, Virginia

~

“But your solitude will be a support
and a home for you,
even in the midst
of very unfamiliar circumstances,
and from it you will find all your paths.”
.
Rainer Maria Rilke

~

~

Photos by Woodland Gnome 2017
~

Crabs at low tide in the marsh

~
“If you’re lonely when you’re alone,
you’re in bad company.”
.
Jean-Paul Sartre

Fabulous Friday: Pineapple Sage In Bloom

~

A hummingbird came zooming across my shoulder just as I began watering in the front garden this morning.  It went first to the nearest Canna blossoms, towering now 8′ or more.  But then, it zoomed straight down to the bright lipstick-red blossoms of our pineapple sage, just opening for the first time this morning.

The little hummer flitted from blossom to blossom, drinking deeply from each long, tubular flower.  Pineapple sage is a great favorite of hummingbirds, and gives that extra boost of energy before they leave for their migration.

~

Pineapple sage, Salvia elegans, grows together with a small Buddleia in the heart of our butterfly and hummingbird garden.  It began blooming today, immediately attracting our resident hummingbirds to taste its nectar.

~

Pineapple sage, Salvia elegans, has grown easier to find at spring plant sales in our area.  It is often offered in small pots, right among the other herbs.  It is easy to grow in full to partial sun, and quickly grows from a small start to a nice sized herbaceous ‘shrub.’  Other than keeping it watered during drought, and pinching it back from time to time to encourage bushiness, it needs little care.

A native of Central America and Mexico, pineapple sage loves heat and humidity.  But it is the shorter days which signal it to begin blooming.

It’s best season is autumn, and it will cover itself in flowers from now until frost.  We are fortunate that pineapple sage tends to return in our garden.  Although it is listed as hardy to Zone 8, it will survive our winter if its roots are deep and well established.  A little mulch helps it survive through winter.

~

~

Like so many herbs, pineapple sage is easy to propagate from stem cuttings or by division.  In the spring, you often can pull a rooted stem, left from the previous season, away from the crown and plant it elsewhere to help this clumping plant spread more quickly.  But we’ve never had a pineapple sage ‘run’ or grow out of control.  It is far better behaved than the mints!

Edible, the foliage has a wonderful fruity fragrance all season.  It is beautiful in fall arrangements and mixed container gardens.  In containers, it might crowd out other plants over the long summer season.  But rooted cuttings or small starter plants would be beautiful in pots newly refreshed for fall.

~

Pineapple sage in a vase with Mexican blue sage, Artemisia and Hibiscus acetosella, October 2015.

~

Salvia elegans has been identified as one of the top three favorite flowers  hummingbirds choose for feeding, in a study done in Central Mexico.  It’s long, tubular flowers just invite a hummingbird’s beak!  And since the flowers are clustered close together, it takes little effort to move from one to the next.

Our hummingbirds are happily darting about the garden this week, enjoying the Lantana, Verbena, ginger lily, Canna, and now also the pineapple sage, just coming into bloom.  They visit us as we sit on the deck and as we water and work among the plants.

It is fabulous to see fall’s brightest flowers blooming at last!

~

Pineapple sage lights up our garden in October 2014.

~

Woodland Gnome 2017

Fabulous Friday:  Happiness is contagious,

Let’s infect one another!

~

Flowers  our hummingbirds enjoy visiting:

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Blossom XXXI: Lantana

~

“For it is in giving that we receive.”
.
Francis of Assisi

Lantana proves a most generous flower.  It’s prolific blooms, full of sweet nectar, nourish butterflies from May until November.

As each flower fades, a small berry forms in its place.  These delight our hungry birds.

~

~

“Generosity does not come from wealth.
Wealth comes from the flowers of kindness and love.”
.
Debasish Mridha

~

Lantana asks little for itself.  It thrives in poor soil.  It tolerates weeks of drought as its deep, sturdy roots seek out water to fuel its prolific blossoms.

It covers itself in flowers continually, growing ever larger, week by week, until it is touched by frost.

Its sturdy, green leaves soak in every ray of summer sun without wilt or burn.

~

~

“When a person becomes aware of their genius
and they live it and they give generously from it,
they change the world, they affect the world.
And when they depart
everyone knows something is missing.”
.
Michael Meade

~

Many of the Lantana that we planted five or more years ago have firmly established themselves in our garden.  Their woody bones burst into life in late spring, and they quickly grow back to enormous proportions.  We leave their skeletons in place through the winter, where they offer shelter and food to the birds who hang back in our garden.

Their drying berries provide a long lasting source of food.  Their dense branches and soft, fallen leaves give shelter from wind and snow.  Small birds play in their structure,  flying in an out of openings in the canopy as they search for insects.

~

~

We wait to cut the Lantana back until the Crocus are blooming.  Once we see these signs of spring, we cut them hard, nearly back to the ground.  Their beds are opened once again to the warming sun.

Bulbs bloom, roses bloom, grass greens, spring settles; and finally, the Lantana re-awaken;  their first blossoms opening in time to greet a new generation of visitors to our garden.

.
Woodland Gnome 2017

~

~

“The Universe blesses a generous heart.”
.
Eileen Anglin
.
Blossom XXV: Elegance
Blossom XXVI: Angel Wing Begonia
Blossom XXVII: Life 
Blossom XXVIII: Fennel 
Blossom XXIV:  Buddleia 
Blossom XXX:  Garlic Chives

Celebrating Caladiums, and Remembering Their Growers

~

We’ve spent much of the weekend glued to news reports from Florida, watching the progress of Hurricane Irma on radar on our tablets, and checking the National Hurricane Center’s updates.  We have weathered a hurricane or three here in coastal Virginia, and have a pretty good idea what our neighbors in Florida are going through.

Of course, they are facing off with the biggest, strongest hurricane to hit the United States in any of our memories.  And hurricane force winds and rain have swept across the entire state.

~

Caladium ‘Desert Sunset,’ a 2016 introduction from Classic Caladiums. C. ‘Sweet Carolina’ is peeking out to the left.

~

Our thoughts turn to friends and family in Florida, Georgia and the Carolinas.  We appreciate all that local governments have done to prepare, and marvel at the can-do spirit shown by even political rivals in the face of this catastrophe.  Let’s hope that more than a little of that pragmatic, cooperative spirit lingers once the flood waters clear and the clean-up and re-building commence.

~

Calaldium ‘White Delight’ was introduced in 2015 by Classic Caladiums.

~

Our Caladium suppliers all live and work in central Florida.  Classic Caladiums is based in Avon Park.  Another supplier is based just to the south in Lake Placid.  This part of Florida produces tons and tons of Caladium tubers each summer.

In fact, Florida produces a large percentage of the plugs and plants sold through nurseries on the East Coast.  I hope these hard working, largely family businesses, can weather a storm of this magnitude.  I certainly hope their crops and infrastructure can bounce back.  I would surely miss them.

~

Caladium ‘Gingerland’

~

I try to keep in mind the small businesses that feed my gardening addiction.  It is only through their dedication and continued hard work that such an amazing wealth of plants is brought to market each year.  These folks love the plants they raise and sell.  They work hard to educate the rest of us and to support the thousands of gardeners, like us, who turn to them each season.

~

Caladium ‘Pink Beauty’

~

And I believe that our best gesture of appreciation is to loyally support them with our repeat business.

I know it’s easy and cheap to turn to the big box stores for our plant purchases.  We can get inexpensive bulbs at Costco, bedding plants at Wal Mart, and shrubs at Lowes.  And I won’t pretend that I’ve not ‘been there, done that’ from time to time.

~

~

And yet, every time I return to our local family run nursery, I’m reminded of the level of quality and customer service they bring to each transaction.  Many of the plants they sell are raised in the neighboring county, and come from greenhouse to nursery in an hour or less.  I am glad to support them and invest in their continued success!

~

Caladium ‘Moonlight’ with hardy Begonia is in the pot, and C. ‘White Christmas’ grows beside it.

~

We do our best to support small, local businesses.  When we find a special one, like Brent and Becky’s in neighboring Gloucester County, we deal with them as much as we can.  And we are richly rewarded with fine selection and top quality plants; and also with top quality horticulturalists and fine friendly people!

In fact, the Heaths source the Caladiums they offer each spring from Dr. Robert Hartman at Classic Caladiums in Avon Park.  Brent Heath piqued my interest in Classic Caladiums in the first place, by singing their praises for quality tubers!

~

Caladium ‘Sweet Carolina,’ introduced by Classic Caladiums in 2016. 

~

We come through trying times best when we pull together.  I know that many of us want to give when we see neighbors in trouble, and there are a plethora of charities wanting to channel our dollars into aid to those affected by catastrophe.

But let’s also keep small businesses in our minds and hearts during these challenging times.  Some purchases may cost us a bit more, but we have the peace of mind that our dollars directly support a family business and  a local economy.  They don’t wash into some vast, corporate pool of profit.

Doing business directly with growers and small nurseries is also a form of insurance.  We help insure their survival, and a continued long and happy relationship with them.

~

~

Today, I’m thinking of our friends in dangerous places, and feeling appreciation for our garden.

I’m enjoying our beautiful Caladiums, even as I remember those who grew and supplied them to us.  I hope their lives return to normal soon, that their challenges are manageable, and that we will enjoy many more beautiful years of working together!

~

Woodland Gnome 2017

~

~

“We have to recognise that there cannot be relationships
unless there is commitment, unless there is loyalty,
unless there is love, patience,  persistence.”
.
Cornel West

 


 

Sunday Dinner: Grace

~
“Grace is a power that comes in and transforms
a moment into something better”
.
Caroline Myss
~
~
“…whatever is lovely, whatever is gracious,
if there is anything worthy of praise,
think about these things.
And peace will be with you.”
.
Barbara Kingsolve
~
~
“Grace is the celebration of life,
relentlessly hounding all the non-celebrants in the world.
It is a floating, cosmic bash shouting its way
through the streets of the universe,
flinging the sweetness of its cessations to every window,
pounding at every door in a hilarity
beyond all liking and happening,
until the prodigals come out at last and dance,
and the elder brothers
finally take their fingers out of their ears.”
.
Robert Farrar Capon
~
~
Photos by Woodland Gnome 2017
~
~
“How we fall into grace.
You can’t work or earn your way into it.
You just fall. It lies below, it lies beyond.
It comes to you,
unbidden.”
.
Rick Bass
~

 

 

Fabulous Friday: Visitors

~

We don’t see everyone, ever.  And those we see, we never see all at once.  Often I don’t see them at all, until I spot them in a photo, later.

It fascinates me to take a photo seemingly of one thing, and spot beautiful creatures lurking in it, well camouflaged, when I study it later.

~

~

Somewhere within the tangled mass of stems and petals, our visitors quietly go about their business.  Some, like the bumblies and hummers we may hear.

The hummers generally dart away before my camera finds its focus.  They have a special sense to know when you’re watching them, I’ve learned.

The bumblies don’t care.  They remain too focused on their serious business of gathering nectar and pollen to let my camera distract them.

~

~

The butterflies and moths drift silently from flower to flower.  If I stand very still and quiet near a mass of flowers, I may catch their movement.  If they notice me, they may take off above the tree tops, waiting for me to move away so they can resume their sipping.

~

~

We are spotting mostly Eastern Black Swallowtail butterflies lately.

Yes, the Tiger Swallowtails and Zebra Swallowtails show up, too.  We’ve even spotted a Monarch or two.  But these beautiful black butterflies are hatching now from the caterpillars we fed earlier in the season, I believe.  I think they may be “home grown.”

Do you ever wonder whether butterflies remember their life as a caterpillar? Do they fly past the plants they grazed on earlier this season, and remember crawling there?

~

~

We spent much of the morning out in the garden.  It was cool, and there was a breeze.

We enjoyed a ‘September sky’ today; brilliantly clear and blue, with high, bright white wisps of cloud.  It was the sort of September day which reminded me how blessed I am to be retired, and free to be outside to enjoy it.  The first week of school is still a special time for me; and I count my blessings that others have taken on that work, and I have left it behind.

~

~

There are always things to do in the garden.  But I much prefer ‘not-doing’ in the garden.

‘Not-doing’ means wandering about to see what we can see.  I may notice what should be done later, but the point is to simply observe and enjoy.

Sometimes I leave my camera inside, or in my pocket, and just silently observe the intricate web of life unfolding around us.

But soon enough, I’m wanting to capture it all, frame it all, and share the best bits with you.

~

~

Fabulous Friday:  Happiness is Contagious,

Let’s Infect One Another!

~

~

Photos by Woodland Gnome 2017

~

“Be content with what you have;
rejoice in the way things are.
When you realize there is nothing lacking,
the whole world belongs to you.”
.
Lao Tzu

Waiting

Milkweed pods crack open to release their seeds onto the wind.

~

Our lives unfold to the cadence of waiting.  We wait for the milestones of maturity; birthday candles, privileges, grades passed.  We wait for friendship and love.  Sometimes we wait for a soured relationship’s messy end.

~

Garlic chives go to seed all too quickly.

~

We tick off the long awaited steps of our lives at first with eagerness; later with longing.  We wait for spring.  We wait for summer’s heat to break.

We wait for the trees to bud and for the roses to finally bloom in May.

~

~

We wait for storms to come and to pass; for children to grow independent; for dream vacations; for retirement.

Which is sweeter, the wait, or the fulfillment?

~

Beautyberry ripens over a long season, to the delight of our many birds.

~

“We never live;
we are always in the expectation of living.”
.
Voltaire

~

~

I await the much loved succession of our garden each year:  emergence, growth, bud, bloom, fruits and seeds.

By September, many of the season’s flowers have already gone to seeds; others are still just coming into bloom.

~

Obedient plant blooms with Rudbeckia hirta, black-eyed Susans.

~

Hibiscus, Echinacea and Basil seeds bring a small cadre of bright goldfinches darting about the garden.  They have waited long months for their delicious ripening.

~

Hibiscus pods split open in autumn to offer their feast of seeds to hungry birds.

~

And sometimes, after the longest of winter waits, those dropped and forgotten seeds fulfill their destiny, sprouting and growing into the fullness of maturity.  Self-sown plants, appearing as if by magic, are a special gift of nature in our garden.

~

Self-sown Basil going to seed again.

~

No, I’m not speaking of the crabgrass or wild Oxalis sprouting in the paths and in the pots.  I’m speaking of the small army of Basil plants which appeared, right where I wanted them, this spring.   I’m speaking of the bright yellow Lantana growing now in the path, and the profusion of bright golden Rudbeckia in our front garden.

~

A Black Swallowtail butterfly feeds on perennial Lantana.

~

And, I’m speaking of the magnificent Aralia spinosa blooming for the first time this summer.  It’s gigantic head of ripening purple berries reminds me of why we tolerate its thorny trunk.

~

Aralia spinosa’s creamy flowers have faded, leaving bright berries in their wake.

~

Gardeners soon learn the art of waiting.  We wait for tiny rooted slips of life to grow into flowering plants, for bulbs to sprout, for seeds to germinate, for little spindly sticks to grow and finally bear fruit. We wait for the tomatoes to ripen and the pecans to fall.

We wait for hummingbirds to fly north each spring; for butterflies to find our nectar filled floral banquet.

~

~

We wait year upon year for our soil to finally get ‘right.’  We wait for rains to come, and for the soggy earth to dry out enough to work in the spring.

~

We are waiting for the Solidago, Goldenrod, to bloom any day now, drawing even more pollinators to the garden.

~

And we wait for ourselves, sometimes, too.  We wait for our fingers to grow green enough that we can tend our garden properly, coaxing beauty from the Earth.

So much to learn, so much to do, so much to love…..

~

~

Woodland Gnome 2017

~

~

“Patience is power.
Patience is not an absence of action;
rather it is “timing”
it waits on the right time to act,
for the right principles
and in the right way.”
.
Fulton J. Sheen

~

For the Daily Post’s
Weekly Photo Challenge:  Waiting

~

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 540 other followers

Follow Forest Garden on WordPress.com
Order Classic Caladiums

This Month’s Posts

Topics of Interest