The night storm came and made itself comfortable over the farmette, throwing down bolts of lightning in succession for what seemed like hours. It was loud, violent, without mercy. I asked Ed if he thought we may be in for a tornado.
Go to sleep gorgeous. It's just a thunderstorm.
Easy for him to say -- that man will sleep through anything at all (except when my phone pings and then he is wide awake, undone in the end only by the technology that resides at the side of the bed). Eventually the storm moved on to torture others further east and I let myself drift off again. For a short while.
It's important to feed the cats before the chicken coop opens up at 8, otherwise there's war between chickens and cats over who gets to finish up the "mixed grill" or "turkey giblets," and so despite a few distant rumbles, I force myself to get up and out to feed the cats at my usual early hour. But afterwards? It's back to bed. For the first time in many many years, we both sleep in until an insanely late hour.
Breakfast is on the porch. It will be hot today and hotter than hot tomorrow, but the morning is actually quite pleasant -- washed out and a tad drippy, but of course, on the porch all is peaceful, all is dry.
Eventually the winds chase the clouds away and I go out to survey the damage. Everything is very wet, but only a few flowers were done in by the storms. (view toward the Big Bed)
Lilies are pretty resilient.
I pick 572 spent flower heads today, which may be this year's record, as the most prolific bloomers are nearing the end of their run. The more exotic lilies are rarely repeat bloomers, but still, every flower head is spectacular!
And again, a nod to the lilium! Oh, if I could only reproduce their fragrance here!
(smaller, but no less lovely are these -- the Lilium Roselily...)
But let's get back to the day lilies: hey! it's time for Ocean's annual sing-along! This is what runs through my head as I approach what I call my trumpet girls. And I post the song by the British composer Purcell every year, at exactly this moment, because, well, you know -- we are creatures of habit and repetition. (I am returning to this version, as it's my favorite -- sung by a bunch of kids with no musical training from Manchester England.)
What, you want something a little less ornate for your stroll through my gardens? Less Baroquey and closer to our more modern sensibilities? How about this beautiful piece by another Englishman, Delius (I love the selection of art for the youtube clip -- it includes a painting of his home in France and, too Impressionists whose works match the title of this piece -- "Summer Evening.")
Evening music calls for an evening garden. I'll end with just a few impressions from the farmette tonight. Summer can be so immodestly beautiful!
(we walked over to the young orchard where we seem to have successfully planted a meadow!)
(evening light on lilies)
(yep, immodestly beautiful...)
Go to sleep gorgeous. It's just a thunderstorm.
Easy for him to say -- that man will sleep through anything at all (except when my phone pings and then he is wide awake, undone in the end only by the technology that resides at the side of the bed). Eventually the storm moved on to torture others further east and I let myself drift off again. For a short while.
It's important to feed the cats before the chicken coop opens up at 8, otherwise there's war between chickens and cats over who gets to finish up the "mixed grill" or "turkey giblets," and so despite a few distant rumbles, I force myself to get up and out to feed the cats at my usual early hour. But afterwards? It's back to bed. For the first time in many many years, we both sleep in until an insanely late hour.
Breakfast is on the porch. It will be hot today and hotter than hot tomorrow, but the morning is actually quite pleasant -- washed out and a tad drippy, but of course, on the porch all is peaceful, all is dry.
Eventually the winds chase the clouds away and I go out to survey the damage. Everything is very wet, but only a few flowers were done in by the storms. (view toward the Big Bed)
Lilies are pretty resilient.
I pick 572 spent flower heads today, which may be this year's record, as the most prolific bloomers are nearing the end of their run. The more exotic lilies are rarely repeat bloomers, but still, every flower head is spectacular!
And again, a nod to the lilium! Oh, if I could only reproduce their fragrance here!
(smaller, but no less lovely are these -- the Lilium Roselily...)
But let's get back to the day lilies: hey! it's time for Ocean's annual sing-along! This is what runs through my head as I approach what I call my trumpet girls. And I post the song by the British composer Purcell every year, at exactly this moment, because, well, you know -- we are creatures of habit and repetition. (I am returning to this version, as it's my favorite -- sung by a bunch of kids with no musical training from Manchester England.)
What, you want something a little less ornate for your stroll through my gardens? Less Baroquey and closer to our more modern sensibilities? How about this beautiful piece by another Englishman, Delius (I love the selection of art for the youtube clip -- it includes a painting of his home in France and, too Impressionists whose works match the title of this piece -- "Summer Evening.")
Evening music calls for an evening garden. I'll end with just a few impressions from the farmette tonight. Summer can be so immodestly beautiful!
(we walked over to the young orchard where we seem to have successfully planted a meadow!)
(evening light on lilies)
(yep, immodestly beautiful...)
