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CURRENT BLOG BELOW:

Flower for the Day Odds and Ends 10-28-27

> > The garden is winding down and so am I. Here are some of what’s still growing currently. > > Butterfly bush (Buddleja davidii) >  > > New England aster (Sumphotrychum novae-anglia) >  > > Sorghum (Sorghum bicolor) - which we call milo (obviously a gift from the birds). >  > > Showy stonecrop (Hylotelephium spectacle) I love these little stars. >  > > The hidden well-spring of your soul must > needs rise and run murmuring to the sea; > and the treasure of your infinite depths > would be revealed to your eyes. > But there are no scales to weigh your > unknown treasure; > And seek not the depths of your knowl- > edge with staff or sounding line. > For self is a sea boundless and measure- > less. > > Say not, “I have found the truth.” but > rather, “I have found a truth.” > Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” > Say rather, “I have met the soul walking > upon my path.” > For the soul walks on all paths. > The soul walks not upon a line, neither > does it grow like a reed. > The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of > countless petals. > > Kahlil Gibron > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Flower for the Day Odds and Ends 10-28-27

The garden is winding down and so am I. Here are some of what’s still growing currently. Butterfly bush (Buddleja davidii)  New England aster (Sumphotrychum novae-anglia)  Sorghum (Sorghum bicolor) - which we call milo (obviously a gift from the birds).  Showy stonecrop (Hylotelephium spectacle) I love these little stars.  The hidden well-spring of your soul must needs rise and run murmuring to the sea; and the treasure of your infinite depths would be revealed to your eyes. But there are no scales to weigh your unknown treasure; And seek not the depths of your knowl- edge with staff or sounding line. For self is a sea boundless and measure- less. Say not, “I have found the truth.” but rather, “I have found a truth.” Say not, “I have found the path of the soul.” Say rather, “I have met the soul walking upon my path.” For the soul walks on all paths. The soul walks not upon a line, neither does it grow like a reed. The soul unfolds itself, like a lotus of countless petals. Kahlil Gibron

Flower for the Day Dahlia 10-26-26

> > We are in the Halloween season and the dahlias are reaching their peak. >  > > Years ago I read that the dahlias do better when staked but I thought I knew better so I didn’t. The plants did fine > but never did well as cut flowers. So I began staking them. Then the deer invaded - they love dahlia leaves.So this > year I staked them and covered the stakes with deer netting. It is not without its problems but now the dahlias are maturing beautifully. You do have to cut openings in the netting to allow the blooms to grow tall. >  >  >  > > And they have become amazing cut flowers. >  > > > dive for dreams > or a slogan may topple you > (trees are their roots > and wind is wind) > > trust your heart > if the seas catch fire > (and live by love > though the stars walk backward) > > honor the past > but welcome the future > (and dance your death > away at this wedding) > > never mind a world > with its villains and heroes > (for god likes girls > and tomorrow and the earth) > > ee cummings > >

Flower for the Day Dahlia 10-26-26

We are in the Halloween season and the dahlias are reaching their peak.  Years ago I read that the dahlias do better when staked but I thought I knew better so I didn’t. The plants did fine but never did well as cut flowers. So I began staking them. Then the deer invaded - they love dahlia leaves.So this year I staked them and covered the stakes with deer netting. It is not without its problems but now the dahlias are maturing beautifully. You do have to cut openings in the netting to allow the blooms to grow tall.    And they have become amazing cut flowers.  dive for dreams or a slogan may topple you (trees are their roots and wind is wind) trust your heart if the seas catch fire (and live by love though the stars walk backward) honor the past but welcome the future (and dance your death away at this wedding) never mind a world with its villains and heroes (for god likes girls and tomorrow and the earth) ee cummings

Butterfly for the Day Monarch 10-21-26

> > This has been the year of the zinnia and the celosia. > Many of the plants grow over five feet tall. >  > > Flowers like this always have bumble bees. >  > > But the most frequent and magical visitor in the last month has been the monarch butterfly (Danaus plexus) which is the best-known butterfly in North America. >  > > > Monarchs are known for their long annual migrations. In North America, they travel long distances south in the fall, and north in the spring. They start to migrate south in about August. They must get to frost-free areas. Freezing will kill them. A migration towards the north starts in the spring. No single individual makes the whole round trip. The migration north spans the life of three to four generations of the butterfly. A longer-lived "super generation" flies from the northern-most parts of the butterfly's range in Canada all the way to Mexico. It overwinters in the south, and breeds in the spring to start the next generation flying north. > > As the flower is nearly at eye level it allows for close observation. > >  > > And here is a classic poem for a friend who is experiencing what the rest of us have known for some time. > > Forgetfulness > The name of the author is the first to go > followed obediently by the title, the plot, > the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel > which suddenly becomes one you have never read, never even heard of, > > as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor > decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain, > to a little fishing village where there are no phones. > > Long ago you kissed the names of the nine muses goodbye > and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag, > and even now as you memorize the order of the planets, > > something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps, > the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay. > > Whatever it is you are struggling to remember, > it is not poised on the tip of your tongue > or even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen. > > It has floated away down a dark mythological river > whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall > > well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those > who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle. > > No wonder you rise in the middle of the night > to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war. > No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted > out of a love poem that you used to know by heart. > > Billie Collins > > >