This little fellow gets around. First he had climbed the 15 feet or so to get to the patio where he somehow managed not to cook himself on the south facing deck. He hid in the tomato plants and waited for the daily water. One day, I was sitting enjoying the evening when he started to sing, perhaps not realizing I too, was on the deck. Funny, I thought. He sounds really close. I didn't investigate, knowing how good frogs are at throwing their voices.
It wasn't until I was moving the pots around when I saw him and promptly removed him to the cool flower garden at the bottom of the yard. Well after a week or so, he ambled back up to the front of the house and sang off and on for a period of time. Then today, as I walked into the living room I heard singing REALLY close; Inside-the-house-singing! He had hidden in the houseplants I had put on the front steps to air. Well, needless to say, he got his own frog-pool outside in the leaves.
The garden overfloweth. I left my little garden area to its own devices. I put in the perennials I had brought from the old garden, threw in some sunflower and nasturtium seeds and ignored it. I wanted to see how well it would fare on its own and if indeed there would be enough sun for anything to flourish.
I needn't have worried. Everything took off, even the grapes finally got in on the act though I still might move them to another spot. The rose bush is not happy. I do realize that and that too will have to be moved to an area with more sun. I am pleased it survived the move though and that is all that matters.
I tell Maggie not to walk through the nasturtiums as the bees are humming in the blooms and wouldn't want any sudden misfortune to happen either to dog or bee.
So she sits and waits while I admire the tumble.
Yawn. Okay. One more pic.
Ya think I planted too many nasturtium seeds?
Quite different from when I first arrived and it was a chicken pen.
It is a cool evening this summer solstice. We eventually decided to settle in the garden with sweaters, a mug of beer and watch the bees go to bed.
I have to show off my friend, he's over seven feet and still growing (I am five feet in this picture... well, I am also five feet all the time but for the sake of measurement is what I mean). I think he might make a good subject for an oil painting. I do love Foxgloves.
Sitting neat as you please, on my garden fence post was this enormous Barred owl.
I had been making some lunch and noticed that the robins were being particularly shrieky and annoying. So I stood on the patio, idly glancing around at the sky and trees, wondering what on earth the fuss was about... until our eyes met.
Then it was me who started making shrieky noises as I raced around looking for cameras and lenses. "An owl, an owl, an owl! A Wol! My first one of the year. In my yard. An owl. A Wol!
And WHY is this camera on a tripod NOW? And what do you mean it won't fit through the door with all three legs splayed out? Zounds!
The owl, cool as a cucumber, waited for me to get my nit-witted self together and take a couple of snaps. No doubt it heard me crashing about in the house, talking excitedly to myself.
After about fifteen minutes it flew into the forest, her patience with the dive-bombing robins coming to an end.
When those eyes fix on you, you feel as small as a mouse and I recalled that often owls can bring shadowy messages. I left her to her woodland roaming.
Here where I now live, I can listen to the rising chorus of tree frogs in the evening and occasionally during the day, when it is overcast and drizzling. Overcast and drizzling seems to cheer up the frogs no end and they can't seem to contain a few chirrups and chirps until, what I imagine, a little crowd of them get going and only stop when an older and wiser frog bustles in and shushes them up, "Wait until evening, a more appropriate time. A proper time for a chorus. No one is listening now. They are too busy working or blogging." This is what they say, it is true.
At any rate, it is near impossible to spot a frog. You could be walking along, and there, a chirrup. You stop, and get a sense of where that noise came from, which is difficult as they seem to be able to throw their sound in some kind of freaky parabolic way so you never know exactly where they are. And then you wait...
The frog waits for you to leave and you wait for the frog. The frog always wins.
BUT, hello, what's this in the yard? Nearly run over by a lawn mower, this dapper little creature, was spotted and had his picture taken. Umbrage! Good job the husband has keen eyes. He spotted another later on...or perhaps it was the same one, thinking he had made good his escape.
There is a beautiful Indian Plum growing outside my front door. I didn't know what it was when I moved in as it was not in leaf. Every morning (when I let the dog out) I have had the opportunity to watch it slowly come to life as the light levels change. This breaking dormancy does not tread a measured course. No, it surges and waits, plateaus and skips along. Now the buds swell and unfurl, but then a hiatus. Nothing seems to happen until a shift, something invisible I can not see, cajoles the blooms to unravel themselves and hang in pendents off the grey limbs. Leaves follow, slow to show, until in a hurry they unfurl their green sails in swept back surprise, perhaps shocked to see new people have moved in while they slept.
Here is the final painting of the snowdrop sketches. Remember when I started it all way back when I bought the pot at Seedy Saturday? Well..here is the painting. (Funny thing is, I didn't have to buy any snowdrops at all, as some emerged right in front of the doorstep. Nice!)
But good old bumblebees love snowdrops so it is good to have lots of them in the garden to have something for them to feed on in between snow flurries.
Poor waterbug. He thought the top of the car to be a pond. A lovely, dark pond, reflecting the forest and sky around him. I would have thought so too, if I were a bug. I noticed him when I was stacking wood. As I walked back and forth I could hear a faint buzzing in the background. When I stopped moving, so would he, so I couldn't pin-point what or where the noise was coming from. Finally, I managed to find him trapped where the windshield meets the hood of the car. I got him out and on the gravel. When I checked on him later, he had gone.
The next day, he was back again, buzzing about, stuck on the car, so once again I got him up and going. He liked sitting on the top of the car, no doubt somewhat perplexed at the rigidity of his pond. This time I managed to get a pic before he spread his wings and burzeled off in disgust.
Snowdrops are my most favourite spring flower, yes, even a bit more than chionodoxa, and perhaps a bit more than lovely clean white crocus and the really orangey-yellow crocus...I like those too. So, finally, I have bought some for my garden. I have always wanted some, and never bought any, I don't know why, funny how things are like that. But anyway, now I have some!
How amazing is that large pot I bought at the Seedy Saturday event from local gardeners? The answer is, "very amazing". $10 for that huge chunk and $4.50 for the teeny one on the left I bought at a garden nursery a few days ago. Yeash.
But first, a few snowdrop sketches and the beginnings of an oil painting so I can remember them until next year.
(I think they felt very pleased to be featured before I popped them in the garden...there they are sitting on the cupboard top.)
And here they are in the garden.
The garden has a long way to come, but it is a start and I have to remind myself what it will be three years from now. The whole area used to be a chicken coop and before you wax excited by having chicken manure, also know the considerable amount of weeds and brambles growing here as well. We Ken took down the old fencing and put in new posts, mesh and a new gate. The shrub is a very healthy camellia loaded with flower buds, so it will be fun to see what colour they will be in a few short weeks.
Ohh, noes, why must you always take so many pictures of me?