Glorious Summer

It has been pointed out to me – with good reason – that it isn’t very appropriate to still be greeted by a snow picture on my blog when it’s the height of summer. I had noticed that myself, of course, and have been feeling guilty for not posting anything for quite a long time, but I’ve been gone too much, and busy with catching up on all kinds of things when I was home, so it just didn’t happen.

There is another gift I would like to talk about, like the one in the last post something very special, but the next few days will be  dedicated to the annual ‘Cycleforward’ bike trip with a group of family and friends, with Trina once again at the core, so I might not get quite as far as I would like to now.It will have to wait until I'm back.

Instead, I will just briefly talk about the garden, always a source of joy, for the most part letting the pictures speak for themselves. 

Once again we've been away, spending time with family and friends in Germany, and while it was a wonderful trip I left home only reluctantly in the middle of June. The peony buds were almost ready to burst open, the first lettuce would soon be ready to cut, and the rocks in the rock garden were covered with masses of golden sedum and purple dianthus. How could I leave when the garden was just getting ready to spread its feast for the senses?

Summer is so short here, the reward for all the months of enduring a landscape mostly dominated by shades of white and grey and brown so eagerly awaited every year. 

Yet I knew that Germany, too, would be at its most beautiful at this time of year, and by the time I was back home even more buds would have opened, the little vegetable plants that had just emerged now would be much sturdier when we got back.

Needless to say I tried catching a glimpse of the garden the minute we arrived from the airport at the beginning of last week, but at ten-thirty in the evening it had to remain just that, a glimpse. What I gleaned looked promising, however, and the early morning light showed that I my expectations would be amply fulfilled. No more peonies, sadly; I had missed them completely this year, but the roses were in full bloom, the cool morning air laced with their fragrance, and the perennial bed with its delphinium spikes in different shades of blue and purple, the golden perennial sunflowers, crimson flower heads of the Maltese Cross, the deep purple yarrow and orange Siberian wallflower and the tall stalks of the bellflowers greet the eye from afar already. 

The vegetable garden, too, had fared well in our absence, lettuce and potatoes begging to be harvested, carrots, beans, peas and cucumbers as healthy as the squash plants and the red and white cabbage, cauliflower and fennel under their protective netting. Raspberries had already started to ripen and were ready for a picking. Apple and sour cherry trees have a good crop of fruit coming, too.

It had rained regularly in our absence, but never too much, always just enough, which is in notable contrast to much of the rest of the area. As a result, mosquitoes are very scarce, which made weeding – very necessary after nearly four weeks of neglect – actually enjoyable for once. Now, however, a week later, we are waiting for a good rain. The lawn is starting to get dry where the soil isn’t very good, always the first indication that things aren’t as they should be. Showers and thundershowers seem to give us a wide berth, clouds building in the west and emptying elsewhere. It’s not critical yet, but it might soon become worrisome. Even a lack of mosquitoes can’t quite make up for that concern, just one of the concerns that haunt farmers year after year. So far, however, crops in the garden and in the field still look good, and I revel in the beauty that surrounds me. 

 

Perfection