May has been, and often is, ‘right mixy’ (country saying among Old Order Mennonites). Temps soars to outrageous highs then drop to nerve-wracking lows… Should I cover the Oriental lilies–Again? Will I do more harm than good (snapped stalks)? Will we dodge the bullet this time?
Fortunately, most of my fussed over plants survived with little damage. Lillies are tougher than I thought, roses, too, and I’ve enjoyed beauty worthy of ‘The Shire’, in Hobbiton.
If you’ve never experienced the joy of accomplishing more than you can imagine, plant a garden. ~Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com
(Below, my bunny statue with foxglove and iris)
Last evening, I ventured forth to capture images of my Memorial Garden. The colors shone in the lessening light, perhaps because I favor pastel hues that standout at dusk. White is the queen of night, and I include these flowers in my plantings. White blossoms glow in the gathering darkness. I intended to remain outside until my solar lights came on, but as the sun sank beneath the hills, the resident skunk announced his coming. I haven’t spotted Mr. Stinky yet, and don’t care to. His noxious warning is my cue to swiftly head indoors. I have the uneasy sense he lives beneath our house, or maybe under the barn, a better thought. Despite Mr. Stinky, my twilight garden is a magical realm. The day might seem quite ordinary, but my dusky garden is anything but. God walks the garden at dusk, and again at dawn.
Grandma always called her vegetable garden the Chapel — it brought her closer to God, was full of miracles, and fed the hungering of others. ~Terri Guillemets