As ol' William Shakespeare once said (Bill to friends), probably nudging a friend at the local pub, "there is nothing so tedious as a twice told tale." He went on to tell him how he, William not the friend, had used the quip in a play of his that was coming off at the local theatre. Hamlet it was, and with the "tale to unfold" and fisherman's daughters bit it went off nicely. However, I am straying from the point. At this point in the blogosphere it is hard not to have a twice told tale. Everything is oozing along nicely and there are usually just more of the same things. Wonderful and enjoyable same things, but still the same. If you, my patient public, have endured with me this long, I try not to bore you with tedious twice told tales of things in bloom that you've seen before. No, I try to stimulate and instruct in whatever way possible. I view each bloom and vegetable as a miracle because I know the hand the fed the small plant and the fact that it not only lives, but also moves and feels the breath of life upon it's keel is mostly miraculous. However I understand them deep thinkers who look and mutter, "gosh" or perhaps "blimey" and assume I've just reposted last weeks under a new title. To them I only reply, "tush, this hard won fight for fame and glory and green beans is not so easy as it appears. The lush greenery is this weeks lush greenery and last weeks radishes were eaten with relish (enjoyed that is, not topped with the green stuff) and the pictures here displayed are fresh prospects bursting with a life of their own." or words to that affect. So onward I now trudge to display this weeks marvels.
We are expecting a warm week here - almost unheard of for a nice 4th of July. We usually celebrate our independence from oppression with an oppressing shower and a few layers of cloud cover. However in light of this, I have done a lot on late evening/night watering (a timer does wonders if you are like me and sometimes forget to turn off the hose). I should be good until wednesday and then we'll water real well again.
Here is our alstromeria with some alyssum. Both came back from last year - amazing for someone of my caliber. The alstromeria didn't grow very tall, but it's blooming and I don't ask for much more.
This Daphne is blooming for the second time this year. It is in the fragrance garden and adds color and scent to lighten the heaviest burden.
More asiatic lilies are joining the fray. We have 5 colors in bloom right now bordering the kitchen garden. Someday they'll beat as one heart and all bloom together, but until that blessed day we enjoy them one at a time.
Our violas are starting to show the strain of modern life. They seem to droop as the warmth of summer progresses. I did wait last year and they perked up, but as these are our front window boxes, I am looking for fresh blood to add. I'll probably pop these into a shady spot for later blooms, and add some color next weekend.
Our dahlias are starting to bloom as well. There are only three plants with open blooms, but the rest are not far behind. they make great bouquets and rebloom often, so I'm looking forward to them!
Back to the good old garden. Things are moving nicely. The sweet peas are actually climbing the fence and blooming this year, yah! The old maxim for corn, knee high by the forth of july, has been met, so we're hoping for another good crop this year. There isn't anything as good as corn right out of the garden. The peas are really getting going, so we eat a lot just messing about the garden, but there are enough to actually make it into the house now. Blueberries are almost ripe so we're trying to wait patiently. Our first summer squash is just about ready. We usually pick them about 3" long so they don't get too big or hard.
Now, if you are aren't looking for roses and lots of blooms of flowers, you should avert your shuddering gaze. All of these, the flowers and trees, are just small tokens of the joy of using a gardening glove... or something like that. It's an assortment of my favorites as I go around the garden talking to, scolding, pruning, watering, and enjoying the sibilant scented silence of summer among the early July fireworks.