Dog Days

Post 46

It is the dog days.

Time for play

.

For ice-cream

For hanging out

 For doing nothing

Except maybe going swimming

Though if you fall in by mistake you might be perturbed.

Still, time for smiling

And joy

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In case you are interested interested, I also have a more personal blog at Lord Kayburger Wisniewski's Backyard

A Phlox of Confessions

Post 45

Phlox of Confessions

Now is the time for tall garden phlox,(Phlox paniculata.)  Just as summer  turns up the heat and regular life droops, up springs these wide clouds of white, pink and lavender, to drift through the garden and lull us into the dog days.

Full summer, like long winter, slows down time. Confession -- slows down to such an extent that I can't seem to wax lyrical in my wonted way. See-- its not quite turning out right, is it? Even though phlox is a plant I really like and which grows great around here.

Confession--this might be partially because my camera woes continue. Thou my lost camera was returned, all the packing and unpacking resulted in a broken battery recharger. And since my camera is not spanking new, both proper battery and recharger are hard to find and cost enough to make me think twice. Twice, and then forward dreamily to a spanking new camera for Christmas. So for now I'm using a cheaper drugstore camera that does not have as good picture quality. --But, ... I draw inspiration from pics that are able to suggest the garden's reality. Bright, clear pics like this one.

Better pic than the two recent ones at the top of this post, right?

And Confession-- I just realized another reason why I might be blocked--camera,.shamera -- I'm evading an issue.

 I Do Not Really Garden Between the 4th of July and Labor Day.

My garden has its own seasons. Bare Bones, Emergence, Flourishing, Rampant, Rank, Late Beauty, Scenic Decay, and Wow, Is That Still Blooming?

We are now at Rampant heading into Rank. And it's a jungle out there, a beautiful, hot, teeming, beneficent jungle. O.K., on maybe one or two almost cool mornings I will grab a machete and hack out some of the seething undergrowth. But on a whole I figure that the garden is best experienced from somewhere comfortable, somewhere with air-conditioning and cool drinks. Like inside.

Hate Philly summers and hate being out in them. So here is my garden blog, based on my love of gardening, that admits to not gardening all summer. And penultimate Confession--I doubt I am the only one of whom this is true. (Final Confession--I am not sure I used 'whom' correctly in the last sentence, but 'who' sounds wrong. The "only one" is linked to "I" and therefore the subject, but the "I doubt" undoes the link? Or what?)

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How to Phlox--  First tip, not with white string. The secret of beautiful Phlox is to find cultivars that are mildew resistant.

"David,"which is white, and Katherine, which is lavender, work well for me. I also have a tall hot pink one that is nameless. Long ago and far away, in Stowe Vermont, there was an alright but not great restaurant called Whiskers, now defunct. Set in the valley before Mt. Mansfield, it had a large outdoor deck that bordered on a wonderful, rampaging, wild garden(which, sadly, is now abandoned, neglected and slowly going to weed.) I was allowed a small bit of phlox, which I brought back to Philly, not sure it could take our humid furnace of a summer. Well, it can and it does, bountifully. The woman who created the garden said it was a native, and that is all I know.

So, if you have a mildew-resistant strain, plant it in full sun or almost full sun in regular garden soil. It likes some water, but aside from that is easygoing. If you are lucky it will spread, but not too quickly.

 

Post 44 

Happy 4th. This blog has a local emphasis but since all goodness is not concentrated in the Wissahickon Valley, some posts, like their author, may wander. In this case to Maine.

From where I have just returned from a vacation that featured two great, very different types of gardens: Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens , and Monhegan Island.

I do not know how, but in just 5 years  the first of these has managed to create a large, excellent public garden.

And perhaps best of all its its recently added children's garden, which is a delight.

And even includes a library with a storyteller, where, if you look up into the gable, you see--

 In short, so worth a visit.
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Monhegan, of course, is not a garden in the traditional sense. It is rather a small island of bleak but often breathtaking beauty. And just as it is set off from our ordinary world by the sea, much of it has been set off even farther, as an undevelopable preserve.

So there is a small village with a big, old-fashioned inn (the spire on the left)

around a harbour

of fishermen, artists, nature-lovers, workers and summer people. Then there is a large reserve of wild spaces

 Criss-crossed by trails

Through woods with fairy houses,

 And blooming meadows,

To blooming seasides,

And onward to the highest cliffs on the Eastern Seaboard,

And then back,

To the village,

To the Inn,

To sit out on its front lawn with a drink, 

 Before dinner and nightfall.

Monhegan has all the magic of island light--light reflected up from the sea, down from the sky, and so diffused all around.

So while it is an ordinary island in an ordinary world, 

It is also sometimes a hint at that extra something that is often found in works of art, in great gardens, in spiritual and peak experiences,

--an island of light in an extraordinary world.

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Since this is the United States of America's Bday, and the U.S. is a nation of immigrants, it seems fitting to celebrate one particular immigrant who has made this post possible.

This is Mito from Bulgaria. He is a waiter at the Inn in summer, and works at a dude ranch in winter. When he first came to America he worked in New York but hated it, and so explored till he found a more peaceful place. He likes to hike around the island and during one hike, found a beat-up, point and shoot, digital camera on the trail. He picked it up and instead of keeping it or selling it, he brought it back to the Inn. There, he showed it to other staff to see if anyone recognized the man with a pack who showed up in some of the pictures. Which is how my lost camera made it back to my husband, and then me. 

Honest, adventurous, cooperative and energetic, eager to believe in, and exemplify what is best in our country, Mito reminds us to live up to the dreams our immigrant forefathers and mothers had for us. Whenever they came here, however they came here, I hope we can make them proud of what we have made of the country they have given us.