> > >> >> On this day 65 years ago the love of my life, Jan Elizabeth Feldwisch and I were married at the >> Pilgrim Congregational Church on Union Boulevard in St Louis. We are still full of joy and kindness. It was the best choice of my life. >
>> >> >> >> >> We are going to stop counting years but each new seasonal cycle will continue the possibility of enduring love. >>
>> >> >> >
> > On this day 65 years ago the love of my life, Jan Elizabeth Feldwisch and I were married at the > Pilgrim Congregational Church on Union Boulevard in St Louis. We are still full of joy and kindness. It was the best choice of my life.
> > > > We are going to stop counting years but each new seasonal cycle will continue the possibility of enduring love. >
> >
> > The butterfly bush (Budddleja davidii) has been a faithful perennial for over half a century. My experience has been that it draws more hummingbirds than butterflies, and an occasional beauty. >  > > We have both purple and white flowers. >  > > Here is a poem that addresses both dreams and reality nicely. > > Antidotes to Fear of Death > Sometimes as an antidote > To fear of death, > I eat the stars. > Those nights, lying on my back, > I suck them from the quenching dark > Til they are all, all inside me, > Pepper hot and sharp. > Sometimes, instead, I stir myself > Into a universe still young, > Still warm as blood: > No outer space, just space, > The light of all the not yet stars > Drifting like a bright mist, > And all of us, and everything > Already there > But unconstrained by form. > And sometime it’s enough > To lie down here on earth > Beside our long ancestral bones: > To walk across the cobble fields > Of our discarded skulls, > Each like a treasure, like a chrysalis, > Thinking: whatever left these husks > Flew off on bright wings. > Ramona Elson >
The butterfly bush (Budddleja davidii) has been a faithful perennial for over half a century. My experience has been that it draws more hummingbirds than butterflies, and an occasional beauty.  We have both purple and white flowers.  Here is a poem that addresses both dreams and reality nicely. Antidotes to Fear of Death Sometimes as an antidote To fear of death, I eat the stars. Those nights, lying on my back, I suck them from the quenching dark Til they are all, all inside me, Pepper hot and sharp. Sometimes, instead, I stir myself Into a universe still young, Still warm as blood: No outer space, just space, The light of all the not yet stars Drifting like a bright mist, And all of us, and everything Already there But unconstrained by form. And sometime it’s enough To lie down here on earth Beside our long ancestral bones: To walk across the cobble fields Of our discarded skulls, Each like a treasure, like a chrysalis, Thinking: whatever left these husks Flew off on bright wings. Ramona Elson
> > This time of year the Susans are doing well. They are flourishing everywhere despite the weather and the drought and the deer. The susans are in the aster family in the genus Rudbeckia. But how are the black and the brown eyes distinguished. Interestingly, if they have long petals they are black-eyed, if short and rounded they are brown-eyed. The difference is in the petals, not the color. > Here are some black-eyed susans. > >  > > Absence Inside an Absence > > We live in the world of the voice, > not in the world of the word, > According to John the Solitary— > Our lives are language, our desires are apophatic, > The bush in flame is the bush in flame, > Imageless heart, imageless absence between the hearts. > > And if we cry out, > if once we utter our natural sounds, > Even the angels will hide their heads > Under their blue wings, > its also said. > So better forget that, better to forget the darkness above the tongue, > Its shorting of words, its mad silence and lack of breath. > > Besides, there’s another spin, > The flame and counter flame by which we come to stillness > Playing over our faces, > over the rose cane and the missing rose, > Over the dreary schooners of snow > Pulling their nets in across the yard, > over their waters brought to joy. > > Still, the idea of absence aside an absence > Completing a presence is dynamite, > the showings foretold > > Unseeable through the earthly eye, > We say to ourselves, > The earth in our cracked hands, > the earth dark syllables in our mouths. > > Charles Wright > >
This time of year the Susans are doing well. They are flourishing everywhere despite the weather and the drought and the deer. The susans are in the aster family in the genus Rudbeckia. But how are the black and the brown eyes distinguished. Interestingly, if they have long petals they are black-eyed, if short and rounded they are brown-eyed. The difference is in the petals, not the color. Here are some black-eyed susans.  Absence Inside an Absence We live in the world of the voice, not in the world of the word, According to John the Solitary— Our lives are language, our desires are apophatic, The bush in flame is the bush in flame, Imageless heart, imageless absence between the hearts. And if we cry out, if once we utter our natural sounds, Even the angels will hide their heads Under their blue wings, its also said. So better forget that, better to forget the darkness above the tongue, Its shorting of words, its mad silence and lack of breath. Besides, there’s another spin, The flame and counter flame by which we come to stillness Playing over our faces, over the rose cane and the missing rose, Over the dreary schooners of snow Pulling their nets in across the yard, over their waters brought to joy. Still, the idea of absence aside an absence Completing a presence is dynamite, the showings foretold Unseeable through the earthly eye, We say to ourselves, The earth in our cracked hands, the earth dark syllables in our mouths. Charles Wright
> > Here are some interesting odds and ends showing up in or near the garden. > > There was a bumper crop of Concord grapes - a little too sour for me. >  > > This is the slowly maturing fruit of the arum plant also known as the Cuckoo Pint. The deer have left them alone. >  > > We arr strating to see new mushrooms. >  > > And this fascinating insect. Can you identify it. >  > > TEACHINGS COME > > from everywhere when > you open yourself up to them. > > That’s the trick of it, > really. > > Open yourself up to everything, > and everything opens itself up to you. > > Richard Wagamese > >
Here are some interesting odds and ends showing up in or near the garden. There was a bumper crop of Concord grapes - a little too sour for me.  This is the slowly maturing fruit of the arum plant also known as the Cuckoo Pint. The deer have left them alone.  We arr strating to see new mushrooms.  And this fascinating insect. Can you identify it.  TEACHINGS COME from everywhere when you open yourself up to them. That’s the trick of it, really. Open yourself up to everything, and everything opens itself up to you. Richard Wagamese
> > The front flower garden is a flurry of activity. There is a number of humming birds and bees. Can you name these butterflies? > >  >  >  >  >  > > It is great fun to stand among them and enjoy the action. > > Swallowtail > The road we walk > ends in a ring, > a quiet path > rays from it, > leads us to where > spring air is singing. > Together, > the dog and I, > we each sniff > in our own way. > Overhead the just-barely > leafing trees, > full of hopeful birds. > Down low, a tapestry > of new greens, > the tracks of small paws > in black earth, > yesterday’s rain water > in the hollows. > We move on this way, > listening, seeing, > inhaling scents, and > approach a large puddle, > see shimmering movement, > an emergence > of thirsty > Eastern Black Swallowtails. > As we near, > they light into air, > wings flash black > and blue and yellow > in the slant beams > of afternoon sun > streaming between trees. > And then they are gone. > Later, > walking home > along the same trail, > one is there, > oscillating toward us > in the air > above the path. > It flies directly > to my chest, > pauses — flutters > and does not land — > I feel its tiny wind > right there, > A whisper to the heart > A few seconds, > and I watch it rise, > spiral up > to the waving canopy > and into a patch > of blue beyond. > Michelle Berry Lane <https://medium.com/u/48e793f52896?source=post_page---user_mention--354bcf61fcae---------------------------------------> >
The front flower garden is a flurry of activity. There is a number of humming birds and bees. Can you name these butterflies?      It is great fun to stand among them and enjoy the action. Swallowtail The road we walk ends in a ring, a quiet path rays from it, leads us to where spring air is singing. Together, the dog and I, we each sniff in our own way. Overhead the just-barely leafing trees, full of hopeful birds. Down low, a tapestry of new greens, the tracks of small paws in black earth, yesterday’s rain water in the hollows. We move on this way, listening, seeing, inhaling scents, and approach a large puddle, see shimmering movement, an emergence of thirsty Eastern Black Swallowtails. As we near, they light into air, wings flash black and blue and yellow in the slant beams of afternoon sun streaming between trees. And then they are gone. Later, walking home along the same trail, one is there, oscillating toward us in the air above the path. It flies directly to my chest, pauses — flutters and does not land — I feel its tiny wind right there, A whisper to the heart A few seconds, and I watch it rise, spiral up to the waving canopy and into a patch of blue beyond. Michelle Berry Lane <https://medium.com/u/48e793f52896?source=post_page---user_mention--354bcf61fcae--------------------------------------->
> > To keep the deer from eating the dahlia we have made a tent with tall poles and covered it with deer netting. > We have our first dahlia and it is a beauty. Dahlias are in the aster family and have tuberous roots. They come in > an amazing array of colors. >  > > It lasts for about a week as a cut flower >  > > > > dreamy petals <https://allpoetry.com/poem/15129400-Dreamy-Petals-by-Writinstuffs> > > in full blosom > > proud dahlia > > ML Kiser >
To keep the deer from eating the dahlia we have made a tent with tall poles and covered it with deer netting. We have our first dahlia and it is a beauty. Dahlias are in the aster family and have tuberous roots. They come in an amazing array of colors.  It lasts for about a week as a cut flower  dreamy petals <https://allpoetry.com/poem/15129400-Dreamy-Petals-by-Writinstuffs> in full blosom proud dahlia ML Kiser
> > We continue to have regular rain with some extraordinary loud thunder boomers. > This provides an unexpected and continued August flower bloom. Here are a few. > > Azalea >  > > Cosmos >  > > Coreopsis >  > > Cone Flower >  > > Monarda >  > > Verbena >  > > In the Evening > > The heads of roses begin to droop. > The bee who has been hauling his gold > all day finds a hexagon on which to rest. > > In the sky, traces of clouds, > the last few darting birds, > watercolors on the horizon. > > The white cat sits facing a wall. > The horse in the field is asleep on its feet. > > I light a candle on the wood table. > I take another sip of wine. > I pick up an onion and a knife. > > And the past and the future? > Nothing but an only child with two different masks. > > Billy Collins >
We continue to have regular rain with some extraordinary loud thunder boomers. This provides unexpected and continued August flower bloom. Here are a few. Azalea  Cosmos  Coreopsis  Cone Flower  Monarda  Verbena  In the Evening The heads of roses begin to droop. The bee who has been hauling his gold all day finds a hexagon on which to rest. In the sky, traces of clouds, the last few darting birds, watercolors on the horizon. The white cat sits facing a wall. The horse in the field is asleep on its feet. I light a candle on the wood table. I take another sip of wine. I pick up an onion and a knife. And the past and the future? Nothing but an only child with two different masks. Billy Collins
> > This is the year of the Zinnia (Zinnia) which is a genus of plants in the Aster family. The genus is notable for their solitary long-stemmed 12-petal flowers that come in a variety of bright colors. The name honors 18th-century German scientist Johann Gottfried Zinn. >  > > The vibrant colors add joy and zest to your life. >  > > Butterflies abound. >  > > And you can’t help but bring them inside. The cosmos demanded to be included. >  > > . > > Tough Zinnias > > Tough zinnias come up & find me. Why not you? > They are loud flowers that bear witness > > to past waterings by blooming > through drought. I’ll be thinking I must > > become something that thrives > in dry weather. Come calmly up the path. > > Be so present even eyes dimmed by bitters > can track you into the pastel asters. > > Don’t make me wait. I’ll be fidgeting > with the unrest brought on by fatal weather. > > What will become of us? I think > our attributes will be engraved inside a promise > > ring in a script too small to read. > Come quietly and be undimmed. > > When I see you, my eyes will fill > with “really?” I’ll stand there > > trying to decide if you are cool enough > to make any trace of warmth > > seem welcome or warm enough > to make any residue of cold > > negotiable. I’ll say if you’ve come > to tell me you’re going, please go. > > > > Alice Fulton > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >
This is the year of the Zinnia (Zinnia) which is a genus of plants in the Aster family. The genus is notable for their solitary long-stemmed 12-petal flowers that come in a variety of bright colors. The name honors 18th-century German scientist Johann Gottfried Zinn.  The vibrant colors add joy and zest to your life.  Butterflies abound.  And you can’t help but bring them inside. The cosmos demanded to be included.  . Tough Zinnias Tough zinnias come up & find me. Why not you? They are loud flowers that bear witness to past waterings by blooming through drought. I’ll be thinking I must become something that thrives in dry weather. Come calmly up the path. Be so present even eyes dimmed by bitters can track you into the pastel asters. Don’t make me wait. I’ll be fidgeting with the unrest brought on by fatal weather. What will become of us? I think our attributes will be engraved inside a promise ring in a script too small to read. Come quietly and be undimmed. When I see you, my eyes will fill with “really?” I’ll stand there trying to decide if you are cool enough to make any trace of warmth seem welcome or warm enough to make any residue of cold negotiable. I’ll say if you’ve come to tell me you’re going, please go. Alice Fulton
> > Can you believe that it is August already? We had some hot days but thankfully we have had some rain which has helped all the growies. One of the signs of August is the arrival of the surprise lilies (Lycoris squamigera). You remember that they have copious long green leaves (‘clothes') early in the year which mature and then disappear. Then each August they bloom rapidly on long stalks in the bare ground appearing as pink trumpet shaped flowers. > They are in the amaryllis family and we have them in multiple shaded locations.  > > My co-gardener likes to use them as cut flowers. When they bloom they have no ‘clothes' leading to their other names: > Naked Ladies or Dancing Ladies. >  > > my naked lady framed > in twilight is an accident > > whose niceness betters easily the intent > of genius— > painting wholly feels ashamed > before this music, and poetry cannot > go near because perfectly fearful. > > meanwhile these speak her wonderful > But i(having in my arms caught > > the picture)hurry it slowly > > to my mouth,taste the accurate demure > ferocious > rhythm of > precise > laziness. Eat the price > > of an imaginable gesture > > exact warm unholy > > > > ee cumings > >
Can you believe that it is August already? We had some hot days but thankfully we have had some rain which has helped all the growies. One of the signs of August is the arrival of the surprise lilies (Lycoris squamigera). You remember that they have copious long green leaves (‘clothes') early in the year which mature and then disappear. Then each August they bloom rapidly on long stalks in the bare ground appearing as pink trumpet shaped flowers. They are in the amaryllis family and we have them in multiple shaded locations.  My co-gardener likes to use them as cut flowers. When they bloom they have no ‘clothes' leading to their other names: Naked Ladies or Dancing Ladies.  my naked lady framed in twilight is an accident whose niceness betters easily the intent of genius— painting wholly feels ashamed before this music, and poetry cannot go near because perfectly fearful. meanwhile these speak her wonderful But i(having in my arms caught the picture)hurry it slowly to my mouth,taste the accurate demure ferocious rhythm of precise laziness. Eat the price of an imaginable gesture exact warm unholy ee cumings
> > Our Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus) was a gift from a friend who is a master gardener. Since it can grow 14 feet tall and ten feet wide we prune it in the late fall after the first freeze. It is resilient to draught but as you can plainly see not to deer. They have pruned the base symmetrically. >  > > Ours is a mixture of three multi-stemmed woody stems each producing subtly different color flowers. >  >  > > The tree is right outside the living room window. We really enjoyed watching the robins as the built > a nest well inside the base. > > There is no modern poem about the Rose of Sharon. Here is some information about the Poet SR Griffin that I > found interesting. Griffin founded his imprint, Rose of Sharon press in1989. He published and edited underground poetry journals. In his attempts to bring poetry to a wider audience, outside of publishing broadsides, chapbooks, and periodicals, Griffin has placed poems on billboards and beer bottles. In 2010 Griffin adapted a 1970 240-MK Vietnam War -era practice bomb to house poetry instead of explosives, gathering over 900 poems from around the world. American pinstripe artist and fabricator Skratch pinstriped the bomb, which Griffin named Elsie in honor of his paternal grandmother. Between April and June 2010, Griffin toured with Elsie the Poetry Bomb across the c <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States>ountry, appearing at 30 different venues, and inviting people to put their poems inside. Of the inspiration behind the project, he said: > "War, the art, artifact and artifice of war were created to invent and enforce agreements. Hopefully by transforming this piece I have created something that will inspire disagreements. The democratic process depends upon disagreement in order to function.... The Poetry Bomb is a weapon of mass discussion." > > > > > >
Our Rose of Sharon (Hibiscus syriacus) was a gift from a friend who is a master gardener. Since it can grow 14 feet tall and ten feet wide we prune it in the late fall after the first freeze. It is resilient to draught but as you can plainly see not to deer. They have pruned the base symmetrically.  Ours is a mixture of three multi-stemmed woody stems each producing subtly different color flowers.   The tree is right outside the living room window. We really enjoyed watching the robins as the built a nest well inside the base. There is no modern poem about the Rose of Sharon. Here is some information about the Poet SR Griffin that I found interesting. Griffin founded his imprint, Rose of Sharon press in1989. He published and edited underground poetry journals. In his attempts to bring poetry to a wider audience, outside of publishing broadsides, chapbooks, and periodicals, Griffin has placed poems on billboards and beer bottles. In 2010 Griffin adapted a 1970 240-MK Vietnam War -era practice bomb to house poetry instead of explosives, gathering over 900 poems from around the world. American pinstripe artist and fabricator Skratch pinstriped the bomb, which Griffin named Elsie in honor of his paternal grandmother. Between April and June 2010, Griffin toured with Elsie the Poetry Bomb across the c <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/United_States>ountry, appearing at 30 different venues, and inviting people to put their poems inside. Of the inspiration behind the project, he said: "War, the art, artifact and artifice of war were created to invent and enforce agreements. Hopefully by transforming this piece I have created something that will inspire disagreements. The democratic process depends upon disagreement in order to function.... The Poetry Bomb is a weapon of mass discussion."
> > We are in the second day of a 4 day heat alert. Temps in the 90’s and feels like in the low hundreds. > I have been able to water some and until the last few days it has rained a little each day. Here is how > some of the grow'ies are doing. > > The verbena (Verbena officianalis) is thriving. It is in multiple places. >
> > > > The beebalm (Monad fistula) is just beginning by the meadow. >
> > > The heat has been hard on the Concord grapes and they are sour. >
> > > And you may remember the Cuckoo Pint (Arum maculatum). It is now > maturing into a colorful fruit. >
> > > Even so I do not expect us to beat the heat. We shall see. > > Here is how I will feel if they go. >
> > Yes that is Miley singing one of my Bob Dylan favorites.
We are in the second day of a 4 day heat alert. Temps in the 90’s and feels like in the low hundreds. I have been able to water some and until the last few days it has rained a little each day. Here is how some of the grow'ies are doing. The verbena (Verbena officianalis) is thriving. It is in multiple places.
The beebalm (Monad fistula) is just beginning by the meadow.
The heat has been hard on the Concord grapes and they are sour.
And you may remember the Cuckoo Pint (Arum maculatum). It is now maturing into a colorful fruit.
Even so I do not expect us to beat the heat. We shall see. Here is how I will feel if they go.
Yes that is Miley singing one of my Bob Dylan favorites.
> > Here are some flowers that are surviving if not flourishing in our ongoing heat. The frequent rain is helping. > > Here’s a surprise oriental lily. Another final lily. >  > > Multiple black-eyed susan >  > > Coreopsis >  > > Cleome >  > > Cone flower >  > > and abundant elegant zinnias in many colors. >  > > We are blessed. > > And here is a classic poem which asks what is beyond the bounds of what you can see. > > The Infinite > > This solitary hill has always been dear to me > And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of > The endless horizon. > But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts > Endless spaces beyond the hedge, > An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet, > To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed. > And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees > I compare its voice to the infinite silence. > And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past, > And the present time, and its sound. > Amidst this immensity my thought drowns: > And to flounder in this sea is sweet to me. > > Giacomo Leopardi > > >
> > Here are some flowers that are surviving if not flourishing in our ongoing heat. The frequent rain is helping. > > Here’s a surprise oriental lily. Another final lily. >  > > Multiple black-eyed susan >  > > Coreopsis >  > > Cleome >  > > Cone flower >  > > and abundant elegant zinnias in many colors. >  > > We are blessed. > > And here is a classic poem which asks what is beyond the bounds of what you can see. > > The Infinite > > This solitary hill has always been dear to me > And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of > The endless horizon. > But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts > Endless spaces beyond the hedge, > An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet, > To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed. > And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees > I compare its voice to the infinite silence. > And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past, > And the present time, and its sound. > Amidst this immensity my thought drowns: > And to flounder in this sea is sweet to me. > > Giacomo Leopardi > > >
Here are some flowers that are surviving if not flourishing in our ongoing heat. The frequent rain is helping. Here’s a surprise oriental lily. Another final lily.  Multiple black-eyed susan  Coreopsis  Cleome  Cone flower  and abundant elegant zinnias in many colors.  We are blessed. And here is a classic poem which asks what is beyond the bounds of what you can see. The Infinite This solitary hill has always been dear to me And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of The endless horizon. But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts Endless spaces beyond the hedge, An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet, To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed. And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees I compare its voice to the infinite silence. And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past, And the present time, and its sound. Amidst this immensity my thought drowns: And to flounder in this sea is sweet to me. Giacomo Leopardi
> > At the edge of the woods west of the meadow grows American wood sage (Teucrium canadense) in abundance. > Commonly known as American or Canada germander it is a perennial herb in the mint family (Lamiaceae). It is a robust > native which grows in clumps with a fibrous root system, and upright squarish stems with opposite leaves. The terminal inflorescence has scentless flowers which bloom from the bottom of the raceme upward. > >  > > There are numerous pale lilac-pink lipped flowers with large shelf like lower lips. >  > > For those with a need to know the genus name is related to Teucus, the first King of Troy. Try that on your neighbor. > > > > Here is an unrelated poem by a friend. > > Wave Theory > > > Channel Lake, Illinois > > Without fail, through the dawn > > and the long summer days, > > a myriad of waves cross > > and re-cross Channel Lake. > > They fall apart, regroup, > > intersect and pay respect > > to superiors along the way. > > Together they capture and refract > > morning, noon, and night. > > Observing this complex dance, > > this perceived chaos, I ask > > what confluence of wave > > upon wave upon wave > > produced my family and me? > > Doug Twells
At the edge of the woods west of the meadow grows American wood sage (Teucrium canadense) in abundance. Commonly known as American or Canada germander it is a perennial herb in the mint family (Lamiaceae). It is a robust native which grows in clumps with a fibrous root system, and upright squarish stems with opposite leaves. The terminal inflorescence has scentless flowers which bloom from the bottom of the raceme upward.  There are numerous pale lilac-pink lipped flowers with large shelf like lower lips.  For those with a need to know the genus name is related to Teucus, the first King of Troy. Try that on your neighbor. Here is an unrelated poem by a friend. Wave Theory Channel Lake, Illinois Without fail, through the dawn and the long summer days, a myriad of waves cross and re-cross Channel Lake. They fall apart, regroup, intersect and pay respect to superiors along the way. Together they capture and refract morning, noon, and night. Observing this complex dance, this perceived chaos, I ask what confluence of wave upon wave upon wave produced my family and me? Doug Twells
Do you believe that half of the year is gone - in a blink - an Augenblick. Here are the last of the oriental lilies (Lilium). You may remember that in distinction to asiatic lilies, the orientals bloom later on tall sturdy stems featuring massive, heavily scented downward facing flowers. They are a feast for the eyes. These lilies survived the Odocoileus virginianus (white-tailed deer) because of their geographic placement in the center of areas with multiple flowers surrounding it.      And here is tiger lily which is distinct from its day lily namesake (also known as a ditch lily). Jan started this process in the 1970’s and we have multiple stands of both.  The Tiger-Lily ….. O thou wast from life’s weltering ore Breathed by enchanting mind before Man was in his own shape. Far, far Thou seemest as the evening star! Yet movest me like that lone light Fetched through the ages of the night Into this breathing garden--close; Or like the things that no man knows In a child's eyes; or like, for one Watching a seaward--sinking sun, Beyond cold wastes of water pale The dim communion of a sail. Ah! though I know not what thou art, Yet in the fastness of my heart How shall I tell what lies unwrought Into the figured films of thought, Uncoloured yet by sharp or sweet, Or what forge of transforming heat Threatens this world of use and fact Wherewith the busy brain is packed? Thou art of me, O Flower of Flame, What is not uttered, has no name, The springing of a want unmated, A joy no fallen hour has dated. Some of my mystery thou holdest, Secretly, splendidly unfoldest. Robert Lawrence Binyon
> > This time of year the garden flowers appear. My favorite for depth of color is field or plains coreopsis (Coreopsis tinctoria). Its leaves are pinnately-divided, glabrous and tend to thin at the top of the plant where numerous flower heads sit atop slender stems. >  > > The flower heads are brilliant yellow with notched tips and profound maroon disc florets. There is no deeper and pleasing color. >  > Grow Wild and Free > > Grow wild and free > Let your spirit be > taken by the wind > Run fast and far > Let your spirit soar > skyward without end > Find a space in the soil > Spread your roots without toil > amongst the tangled weeds > Sow your seeds down deep > Where the wind can’t sweep you seeds > Away with the breeze > Mia Verità >
This time of year the garden flowers appear. My favorite for depth of color is field or plains coreopsis (Coreopsis tinctoria). Its leaves are pinnately-divided, glabrous and tend to thin at the top of the plant where numerous flower heads sit atop slender stems.  The flower heads are brilliant yellow with notched tips and profound maroon disc florets. There is no deeper and pleasing color.  Grow Wild and Free Grow wild and free Let your spirit be taken by the wind Run fast and far Let your spirit soar skyward without end Find a space in the soil Spread your roots without toil amongst the tangled weeds Sow your seeds down deep Where the wind can’t sweep you seeds Away with the breeze Mia VeritÃ
> > When our neighbor Russel Kraus sold his house and grounds to the Frank Lloyd Wright House in Ebsworth Park > foundation he gave us some of his blackberry lilies (Iris domestica). It is known for its fanlike leaf cluster, its orange, > red-spotted flowers and its namesake seed pods which split open in the fall revealing clusters of black shiny seeds resembling blackberries. >  >  > > Blackberry Lily Haiku > > Unfurling petals > > Like rays of golden sunshine. > > Burst open and bright. > > Sarah J. Flackett > >
When our neighbor Russel Kraus sold his house and grounds to the Frank Lloyd Wright House in Ebsworth Park foundation he gave us some of his blackberry lilies (Iris domestica). It is known for its fanlike leaf cluster, its orange, red-spotted flowers and its namesake seed pods which split open in the fall revealing clusters of black shiny seeds resembling blackberries.   Blackberry Lily Haiku Unfurling petals Like rays of golden sunshine. Burst open and bright. Sarah J. Flackett
> > This year has been catastrophic for our day lilies (Hemerocallis). The plants are entirely healthy but the deer each evening have eaten the fresh buds before they could bloom. Out of multiple stands of daylily there are very few blooms > and as you may know they only bloom for a day. > Here are a few of the flowers that made their brief appearance. The flowers have three similar petals and three sepals, collectively called tepals. The centermost part of the flower, called the throat, may be a different color than the more distal areas of the tepals. Each flower has six stamens joined to the perianth tube, each with a two-lobed anther The unequal stamen filaments are curved upward. >  > > On the right is the classic ditch-lily found along our rural highways. Its one of the flowers with which I > started my gardens. >  > > Below is a more classic day lily which was in the front garden when we moved into our house in 1978. >  > > Lilies > I have been thinking > about living > like the lilies > that blow in the fields. > > They rise and fall > in the edge of the wind, > and have no shelter > from the tongues of the cattle, > > and have no closets or cupboards, > and have no legs. > Still I would like to be > as wonderful > > as the old idea. > But if I were a lily > I think I would wait all day > for the green face > > of the hummingbird > to touch me. > What I mean is, > could I forget myself > > even in those feathery fields? > When Van Gogh > preached to the poor > of coarse he wanted to save someone-- > > most of all himself. > He wasn't a lily, > and wandering through the bright fields > only gave him more ideas > > it would take his life to solve. > I think I will always be lonely > in this world, where the cattle > graze like a black and white river-- > > where the vanishing lilies > melt, without protest, on their tongues-- > where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, > just rises and floats away. > > Mary Oliver >
This year has been catastrophic for our day lilies (Hemerocallis). The plants are entirely healthy but the deer each evening have eaten the fresh buds before they could bloom. Out of multiple stands of daylily there are very few blooms and as you may know they only bloom for a day. Here are a few of the flowers that made their brief appearance. The flowers have three similar petals and three sepals, collectively called tepals. The centermost part of the flower, called the throat, may be a different color than the more distal areas of the tepals. Each flower has six stamens joined to the perianth tube, each with a two-lobed anther The unequal stamen filaments are curved upward.  On the right is the classic ditch-lily found along our rural highways. Its one of the flowers with which I started my gardens.  Below is a more classic day lily which was in the front garden when we moved into our house in 1978.  Lilies I have been thinking about living like the lilies that blow in the fields. They rise and fall in the edge of the wind, and have no shelter from the tongues of the cattle, and have no closets or cupboards, and have no legs. Still I would like to be as wonderful as the old idea. But if I were a lily I think I would wait all day for the green face of the hummingbird to touch me. What I mean is, could I forget myself even in those feathery fields? When Van Gogh preached to the poor of coarse he wanted to save someone-- most of all himself. He wasn't a lily, and wandering through the bright fields only gave him more ideas it would take his life to solve. I think I will always be lonely in this world, where the cattle graze like a black and white river-- where the vanishing lilies melt, without protest, on their tongues-- where the hummingbird, whenever there is a fuss, just rises and floats away. Mary Oliver
> > This late allium (Allium schoenoprassum) just bloomed. It is also known as wild chives, Rush leek, Onion grass and Schnittlaugh. Chives are a perennial herb in the onion family which form clumps of hollow tubular leaves and edible globe-shaped flowers >  > > Chives > > You chop an onion, bone a breast, cradle > an artichoke's dense, thorny crown, you pluck > a chicken, a leaf, an eyebrow peddling luck > with love, you set a table, you seat, you ladle > your soup, you chomp an apple, you agitate > the linens. You agitate for justice. You piece > on chocolate, awaiting calls. You grease > your skids. You rot. You rule. You fail. You rate. > A verb intransitive is a claptrap thing. > Dredge it in flour, you might as well. Let tense > run riot. You pinch spent bloom, craving bitters > and Pimm's when you could go a-rummaging > through chives—those volunteers who in their dense > tufts at least know how to get together. > > Julie Sheehan >
This late allium (Allium schoenoprassum) just bloomed. It is also known as wild chives, Rush leek, Onion grass and Schnittlaugh. Chives are a perennial herb in the onion family which form clumps of hollow tubular leaves and edible globe-shaped flowers  Chives You chop an onion, bone a breast, cradle an artichoke's dense, thorny crown, you pluck a chicken, a leaf, an eyebrow peddling luck with love, you set a table, you seat, you ladle your soup, you chomp an apple, you agitate the linens. You agitate for justice. You piece on chocolate, awaiting calls. You grease your skids. You rot. You rule. You fail. You rate. A verb intransitive is a claptrap thing. Dredge it in flour, you might as well. Let tense run riot. You pinch spent bloom, craving bitters and Pimm's when you could go a-rummaging through chives—those volunteers who in their dense tufts at least know how to get together. Julie Sheehan
test 3
Foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) is a native flowering plant in the Plantaginaceae family. It is also known as talus slope penstemon and white beardtongue.It is a glabrous (hairless) tall plant with opposite, shiny green, simple leaves, on slender, purple stems.
The flowering panicle (a loosely branched compound flower cluster or inflorescence) extends to almost one third of the plant's height and has pairs of branches which repeat with two flowers multiple times. The flowers are two lipped and tubular. At the base you can see the white ‘beardtongue’.
Waiting for Beardtongue
Were you here with me under the tangle
of contrails, we’d wait for the beardtongue,
and I’d show you where the none-too-demure
stands will erupt in the hard places:
the sorry, washed out soil of the hillside,
road cuts, and abandoned mounds of ballast.Although I know this stamp of land as well
as a scribe knows his vellum, I’m not
inured to the surprise and ecstasy
of waiting for beardtongue: waiting is how
we measure time here. Not by Chronos,
Kairos, A theory, B theory, or relativity —But rather by the exquisite waiting:
first for the gray-green leaves to clasp
the limber, nimble stems, then for the stems
to bear the loads of two-lipped, chaliced white
flowers turning the field into a mural
of serene, white-robed Etruscans.In the all-too-brief two weeks when
the beardtongue blooms, I become
the great shirker of obligation,
look askance at my pressing labors,
leave be fields that should be tended
and barns that should be mended.For this is the season of untethering
oneself from the dogged troubles of tomorrow;
this is the season of surfeit, when the plain
is aproned in the raiment of beardtongue.
Lagniappe
Foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) is a native flowering plant in the Plantaginaceae family. It is also known as talus slope penstemon and white beardtongue.It is a glabrous (hairless) tall plant <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbaceous_plant> with opposite, shiny green, simple leaves, on slender, purple stems.  The flowering panicle (a loosely branched compound flower cluster or inflorescence) extends to almost one third of the plant's height and has pairs of branches which repeat with two flowers multiple times. The flowers are two lipped and tubular. At the base you can see the white ‘beardtongue’.  Waiting for Beardtongue Were you here with me under the tangle of contrails, we’d wait for the beardtongue, and I’d show you where the none-too-demure stands will erupt in the hard places: the sorry, washed out soil of the hillside, road cuts, and abandoned mounds of ballast. Although I know this stamp of land as well as a scribe knows his vellum, I’m not inured to the surprise and ecstasy of waiting for beardtongue: waiting is how we measure time here. Not by Chronos, Kairos, A theory, B theory, or relativity — But rather by the exquisite waiting: first for the gray-green leaves to clasp the limber, nimble stems, then for the stems to bear the loads of two-lipped, chaliced white flowers turning the field into a mural of serene, white-robed Etruscans. In the all-too-brief two weeks when the beardtongue blooms, I become the great shirker of obligation, look askance at my pressing labors, leave be fields that should be tended and barns that should be mended. For this is the season of untethering oneself from the dogged troubles of tomorrow; this is the season of surfeit, when the plain is aproned in the raiment of beardtongue. Lagniappe
> > Foxglove beardtongue (Penstemon digitalis) is a native flowering plant in the Plantaginaceae family. It is also known as talus slope penstemon and white beardtongue.It is a glabrous (hairless) tall plant with opposite, shiny green, simple leaves, on slender, purple stems. > >  > > The flowering panicle (a loosely branched compound flower cluster or inflorescence) extends to almost one third of the plant's height and has pairs of branches which repeat with two flowers multiple times. The flowers are two lipped and tubular. At the base you can see the white ‘beardtongue’. >  > > Waiting for Beardtongue > > Were you here with me under the tangle > of contrails, we’d wait for the beardtongue, > and I’d show you where the none-too-demure > stands will erupt in the hard places: > the sorry, washed out soil of the hillside, > road cuts, and abandoned mounds of ballast. > > Although I know this stamp of land as well > as a scribe knows his vellum, I’m not > inured to the surprise and ecstasy > of waiting for beardtongue: waiting is how > we measure time here. Not by Chronos, > Kairos, A theory, B theory, or relativity — > > But rather by the exquisite waiting: > first for the gray-green leaves to clasp > the limber, nimble stems, then for the stems > to bear the loads of two-lipped, chaliced white > flowers turning the field into a mural > of serene, white-robed Etruscans. > > In the all-too-brief two weeks when > the beardtongue blooms, I become > the great shirker of obligation, > look askance at my pressing labors, > leave be fields that should be tended > and barns that should be mended. > > For this is the season of untethering > oneself from the dogged troubles of tomorrow; > this is the season of surfeit, when the plain > is aproned in the raiment of beardtongue. > > > Lagniappe > >
This year we have California Poppy (Eschscholzia California) in several gardens. Also called golden poppy, Mexican poppy and pot of gold, it is a native in the Papaveraceae family. It has alternating branching glaucous (pale blue green) foliage. The flowers are solitary on long stems, silky textured, and with four petals.  The California Poppy <https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_california_poppy_147295> Orange glowing in a field of green Or along a mountain side. Silky petals reach toward the sun And dance in the spring breeze. At night they cup their faces Conserving strength for tomorrow. Barbara Gorelick
This gorgeous blossom is from the sweetbay magnolia (Magnolia virginiana) bwhich has flourished by our garage for over fifty years. It is a deciduous tree which can grow to 100 feet. The flowers are creamy white with multiple petal-like tepals. A tepal is an outer part of the blossom (the perianth) when these parts cannot easily be classified as either sepals or petals which in magnolias is because they are undifferentiated or very similar in appearance. The flowers have a very strong vanilla scent.  Here is an unrelated poem. If Adam Picked The Apple There would be a parade, a celebration, a holiday to commemorate the day he sought enlightenment. We would not speak of temptation by the devil, rather, we would laud Adam's curiosity, his desire for adventure and knowing. We would feast on apple-inspired fare: tortes, chutneys, pancakes, pies. There would be plays and songs reenacting his courage. But it was Eve who grew bored, weary of her captivity in Eden. And a woman's desire for freedom is rarely a cause for celebration. Danielle Coffyn
We are down to three inside plants- a huge fern, a large night blooming cerise , and a hoya (Hoya carnosa). We used to take the hoya outside where it bloomed often. It hangs for the landing and has luscious thick green leaves.  It has not bloomed for a decade but yesterday Jan looked up and saw two blossoms.   It was a thrill after so many barren years. There is nothing more magical than living from blossom to blossom. From Blossoms From blossoms comes this brown paper bag of peaches we bought from the boy at the bend in the road where we turned toward signs painted Peaches. From laden boughs, from hands, from sweet fellowship in the bins, comes nectar at the roadside, succulent peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. O, to take what we love inside, to carry within us an orchard, to eat not only the skin, but the shade, not only the sugar, but the days, to hold the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into the round jubilance of peach. There are days we live as if death were nowhere in the background; from joy to joy to joy, from wing to wing, from blossom to blossom to impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom. Li-Young Lee
This time of year for almost a month the yellow crown beard (Verbena heliathoides) line the far meadow edge from the south down the hill all the way to the north base and then back east past the dog pen.  They are a native asters.  They are tall perennials with hairy winged stems and alternate leaves.  Each composite flower has tubular disc flowers surrounded by about twelve rays.  VERBESINA Dark does not fall: it rises from the soil, seeping along the flattened grass of the dim path and flowing up trees already black, night’s conduits, forked darkening against the retreating light, while below them in the field the crownbeard on its winged stem makes a last effort, waggling its two or three yellow rays, lifting its small cluster of disc petals in imitation of the sun—though its leaves have gone quiet already, and the pollinators sleep their insect sleep. * Sleep is just a way to talk about what happens in the dark, what the cells do, what color green is, when no light shines on it. The crownbeard holds still now, nothing moves under the streetlights in the ramifying subdivisions. Wings close, and petals. Eyes see nothing that is not inward and radical. There are boundaries, such as where stem becomes root, and where the taproot probes among stones, and we may travel them, through capillaries and waterways and geographies of decomposition. Underground is like aboveground inverted, a reflection of sorts, uncertain and hopeful as seedheads at seedtime. ….. Maura Hill
The asiatic lillies (Lilium) have been blooming. They bloom earlier and have deeper color than the oriental lilies.      The deer love to eat the growing tips of these lilies. If they do the plant does not bloom.  The only ones that survive are those that are deeper into the garden. Those on the edges are goners. such is the fate of the urban gardener. Lilies Sitting by the banks of my village pond, I see majestic lotus sprouting all over the water, The red, pink and white petals over the green leaves, casts an aura of eternal beauty in my spirits. When I go to the little village market, I find flower vendors selling the beautiful lotus, I see the majesty turned into helpless offering, I see the perpetual flower with seeded body crying for self esteem. The beautiful white Calla Lily adorned with smooth green stem, makes me think it as a nice offering to the memory of my loved ones, The smooth and sensuous beauty of the pristine white lily, would enhance the beauty of my love with purity and divinity. When I look at the yellow Asiatic lily, I see an exalted beauty radiating her charm away. while the white Lily shows us the glimpse of heavenly resurrection, the beautiful yellow lily invites us to enjoy our life on the earth with elation. We forget the blue, violet, pink and green lilies, their beauty invokes some spiritual love with nature in our hearts, they don't fear the adverse and unknown dangers, they stand smiling fearless and eager to rekindle our souls. Jay P Narain Note: While downloading this poem I got hacked and after a harrowing adventure I think I’m OK. They were able to completely take over and block my screen but Apple Support was able to help me get my screen back and I don’t think they got into my computer. Be careful out there. Apple says it never blocks a computer screen and they are not permitted to give their last name. DS
> Begin forwarded message: > > From: Don Sessions <donsessions@aol.com> > Subject: Flower for the Day Larkspur 6-4-26 > Date: June 4, 2026 at 11:15:05 AM CDT > > Here is a field circle overflowing with many colored larkspur (delphinium). The name is from the ancient gGreek word for dolphin. It is toxic to deer but they do not eat it. >  > > The stem is erect and tall. The leaves are deeply lobed with 3 to7 toothed pointed lobes in a palmate shape.  > The plant is topped with a raceme of many flowers of various color. The flowers are bilaterally symmetrical and have many stamens. Each flower consists of five petal-like sepals which grow together to form a hollow pocket with a spur at the end, which gives the plant its name, usually more or less dark blue. Within the sepals are four true petals, small, inconspicuous, and commonly colored similarly to the sepals. The uppermost sepal is spurred, and encloses the nectar-secreting spurs of the two upper petals. >   Delphinium by Nydia Rojas Next <https://www.yourdailypoem.com/listpoem.jsp?poem_id=2593> The delphinium growing in the garden stands tall, its flowers mirroring the limpid summer sky. Around it, serenity has built a sanctuary where bees and butterflies seek refuge. The flower stalk stands tall above the leaves as if wanting to see the world around it or get closer to the sky and blend colors or simply to offer its beauty, mysterious impulses guiding it to put its flowers on display for whoever happens to walk by. © by Nydia Rojas.
In the front garden we have showy milkweed (Asclepius speciosa). It is a milky sapped perennial in the dogbane family which is why it looks like yesterday’s bluestar. The plant is erect on a hairy stalk with pointed simple opposite leaves.  The hairy flowers grow in dense umbellate cymes. Their corollas are reflexed and the central flower parts, five hoods with prominent hooks, form a star shape.  Asclepias speciosa is a specific food for the monarch butterfly. So far we have only seen one very skittish monarch who went only to our Sweet William.  If I Were A Monarch Butterfly I’d play Django Reinhardt’s gypsy jazz as I rambled. Like Romani everywhere, my roots are temporary, my wings all bling, swing, my story backed with chords, percussion, sweep of strings. Improvisation keeps me aloft as I glide through air like flecks of sunlight adrift on morning tides. Fueled by lilt of violins, acoustic guitar arpeggios, wind shear keeps me dancing from milkweed to magenta cone flower to golden jungle marigolds. Tune in to my background story, a glissando shift from bass to highest C notes. I can’t be constrained, reined in, pinned down. Watch me soar from hot club to blues bar, from waltz to swing dance. Follow me as I cross mountains, boundaries, border walls, from Clouds to that elusive Mansion of Our Dreams. Mary K O'Melveney .
Eastern bluestar (Amsonia tabernaemontana) is a flowering plant in the dogbane family (Apocynaceae) first described as a genus in 1788. A native to North america it was named after two physicians - Charles Amson and Jacob Theodor von Bergzabern. Take that to bed with you.  The plant produces clump-forming perennial upright stems and narrow, willow-like leaves. It produces clusters of star-shaped, pale blue flowers in spring and develops elongated paired follicles that contain cylindrical seeds.  Once a Blue Star As Hot As It Was When I look at the dandelion king of the sky, It isn't the same blue rose we knew it was once Like the rhythm of your heart Beating, pulsating, running to a face I don't know. It has only been seconds since a part of me died, Yet it feels like a century of seasons changing. Flowers bloom, Leaves set fire upon themselves, And through the passion of the flames, The leaves come out, fall out, anew With colors different Before the coldness of the world finally kills them. And yes, it has been a century Just looking at all these people wrap their arms around 'true love'. I do not drown in my own tears. I swallow them, then cry again. The pain has even surpassed death Since they all make me feel so alive, The wounds you left me When I saw your eyes dilating, Yearning For someone else. Danielle Mari Nidea
> > Here are some of the last peonies - the best year ever for them. The doubles are a great addition. >   > > But the singles are the staple. I love the buds by the blossoms. >  > > I am sorry to see them disappear. > > From Blossoms > > From blossoms comes > this brown paper bag of peaches > we bought from the boy > at the bend in the road where we turned toward > signs painted Peaches. > > From laden boughs, from hands, > from sweet fellowship in the bins, > comes nectar at the roadside, succulent > peaches we devour, dusty skin and all, > comes the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat. > > O, to take what we love inside, > to carry within us an orchard, to eat > not only the skin, but the shade, > not only the sugar, but the days, to hold > the fruit in our hands, adore it, then bite into > the round jubilance of peach. > > There are days we live > as if death were nowhere > in the background; from joy > to joy to joy, from wing to wing, > from blossom to blossom to > impossible blossom, to sweet impossible blossom. > > Li-Young Lee >
Here are this years last Iris - a feast for the eyes.   And my favorite. Profound infinite color.  The Infinite <https://allpoetry.com/poem/8527635-The-Infinite-by-Count-Giacomo-Leopardi> This solitary hill has always been dear to me And this hedge, which prevents me from seeing most of The endless horizon. But when I sit and gaze, I imagine, in my thoughts Endless spaces beyond the hedge, An all encompassing silence and a deeply profound quiet, To the point that my heart is almost overwhelmed. And when I hear the wind rustling through the trees I compare its voice to the infinite silence. And eternity occurs to me, and all the ages past, And the present time, and its sound. Amidst this immensity my thought drowns: And to flounder in this sea is sweet to me. Giacomo Leopardi The more times you read this poem the more you ‘get’ the infinite.
> > >> >> I have grown to love the miniature flowers that grow in the meadow and the creek bed. >> Few people see them. You have to bend over and search them out. But somehow they satisfy. >> >> Here is blue field-madder (Sherardia arvensis). It is an annual broadleaf plant that is more common to New England and coastal California than the heartland. Two to three small flowers form trumpet-shaped clusters on the stem at the bases of leaves and have six to eight leaflike structures underneath. They look somewhat like bluets which bloom way earlier. >> >> >> >> Here is mouse ear chickweed (Cerastium fontanum) which is also called starweed. It is a mat-forming perennial. >> Cerastium fontanum, also called mouse-ear chickweed, common mouse-ear, and starweed, is a species of mat-forming perennials. It has tear-shaped leaves growing opposite one another in a star pattern and small white flowers with five notched petals. The flowers have 10 stamens and five styles. Don’t you love the hairy leaves. >> >> >> >> Ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea) is derisively called Creeping Charlie. It grows on the edge of the meadow, is ubiquitous,and intensely invasive. There is nothing of value that I can say about it except for its beautiful flowers which disappear in a blink. >> Oh, it is simple to slowly pull out with its root if the ground is wet. >> >> >> >> Finally this lesser celandine (Ficaria verna) is growing in our dry creek bed. It is also known as fig buttercup, figwort, >> pilewort, and fig crowfoot. It is a low-growing, hairless perennial flowering plantin the buttercup family Ranunculaceae. It has fleshy dark green, heart-shaped leaves and distinctive flowers with bright yellow, glossy petals. >> The plant is known as pilewort by some herbalists because it has historically been used to treat piles (hemorhoids).Lesser celandine is still recommended in several "current" herbal guides for treatment of hemorrhoids by applying an ointment of raw leaves as a cream or lanolin to the affected area. Getting a comercial salve appears to be easier and probably more effective. >> >> >> >> Ode to Creeping Charlie >> >> Aromatic perennial, evergreen creeper, >> you thrive in dense shade yet tolerate the sun. >> Brought to this land by brewers and healers, you escaped >> cultivation, survived mower and rake. You feed >> the pinewood mason bee, take over my lawn, choke >> out bergamot and blazing star, those native flowers >> I cultivate in vain. There will always be more of you >> than I can ever remove, and yet >> you are my favorite weed to pull. I love >> that it must be done slowly, a gentle urgency >> in the fingers, a little tug to release your runners, >> knowing how firmly the earth is holding you >> from first snow melt to first snow fall, o ground ivy, >> field balm, catsfoot, alehoof, run-away-robin. >> >> Katelyn Hibbard >> >> >> >> >> >> >
Well here is a new one to start the week. Jan has been watching a plant we have not seen before in a meadow circle. How it got there is a good question . It has interesting leaves and when we looked it up it is called cuckoo pint (Arum maculatum) and is in the family Araceae. It has multiple names including Jack in the pulpit. The leaves are triangular with an arrow-head shape at the base. The leaves have a long stalk and the network veins.  Below flowers are borne on a poker shape inflorescence called a spadix, which is enclosed in a pale green leaf-like hood called a spathe.  Arum maculatum is known as cuckoo pint or cuckoo-pint in the British Isles and is named thus in Nicholas Culpeper’s famous 17th-century herbal book. "Pint" is a shortening of the word "pintle", meaning penis, derived from the shape of the spadix. The euphemistic shortening has been traced to Turner in 1551. In order to see the pint I had to open up the pale green leafy spathe. What fun and how great to have Jan show me the way here. She is always full of surprises. Arum Maculatum Seduced on a damp woodland bank the lily lantern glows. Inside the green hood the purple spike protrudes. A shower of glossy leaves shoots arrows to the ground. The cowl calls to insects and traps them until dusk when they are released to carry the fairy pollen to another spadix. It shimmers as they escape. Lords and ladies. So emphatically a lord’s pintle and a lady’s vulva— Arum maculatum stands in the hedge row as an exotic sexual statement. Willy lily or priest’s pilly sucky calves or cuckoo-pint— our jack-in-the-pulpit flower belies its English bower. More suited to a tropical place the wild arum takes an aroid space and sedately waits until it can shout into Autumn with a spike of shiny orange globes— and blaze the bank with its fiery stalk. Helen Slade
Each year we have a new rosemary (Salvis rosmarinas) plant. It is a member of the mint family (Lamiaceae). Rosemary is shrub with very fragrant , evergreen, needle-like leaves. The fresh or dried leaves can be used for food flavoring.  Rosemary flowers in late spring. The branches are dotted with groups of 2 to 3 flowers down their length.   Time has an end, they say Sea-walls are worn away By wind and the sea spray, Not the herb, rosemary Queens have died, I am told Faded the cloth of gold No Caeser half so bold As the herb, rosemary Rooted within the grave Spreading to heaven, save Us by the grace He gave To the herb, rosemary. Aubrey de Vere. 1814--1902
Jan noticed our first flowers for the year, two beautiful yellow crocuses. The crocus is in the iris family and displays the general characteristics of the family Iridaceae, which include basal cauline (arising from the aerial stem) leaves that sheath the stem base, hermaphrodite flowers that are showy, the perianth petaloid with two whorls of three tepals each and septal nectaries. The flowers have three stamens and a gynoecium of three united carpels and an inferior ovary, three locules and axile placentation with fruit that is a loculicidal capsule. Other than that it is a relatively simple flower. It closes up at night.  There was an apple tree in the yard — this would have been forty years ago — behind, only meadows. Drifts of crocus in the damp grass. I stood at that window: late April. Spring flowers in the neighbor’s yard. How many times, really, did the tree flower on my birthday, the exact day, not before, not after? Substitution of the immutable for the shifting, the evolving. Substitution of the image for relentless earth. What do I know of this place, the role of the tree for decades taken by a bonsai, voices rising from the tennis courts — Fields. Smell of the tall grass, new cut. As one expects of a lyric poet. We look at the world once, in childhood. The rest is memory. — Louise Gluck
We are in our second growth phase for the iris. Their intricate structure continues to amaze. The Japanese iris are out in full force.  But the bearded iris continue to be the clear winners. Their only issue is their brevity.      As in dreams behind high doors there is nothing, not even emptiness. As in dreams behind the face that looks at us there is no one. Obverse without a reverse, one-sided coin, the side of things. That pittance is the boon tossed to us by hastening time. We are our memory, we are that chimerical museum of shifting shapes, that pile of broken mirrors. Jorge Luis Borges
Columbines (Aquilegia vulgaris) grow well in the heartland. They are herbaceous perennials in the buttercup family (Ranunculaceae). Their compound leaves are ternate and each divide into three leaflets. The inflorescence forms several flower heads. They present as nodding - facing downwards. Luckily for the photographer this changes in time. Aquilegia is from the Latin word for "eagle”, aquila, describing the petals' resemblance to eagle talons.  The Passionate Shepherd to His Love Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the Rocks, Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow Rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing Madrigals. And I will make thee beds of Roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; Fair lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and Ivy buds, With Coral clasps and Amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love. Christopher Marlowe
I have grown to love the miniature flowers that grow in the meadow and the creek bed. Few people see them. You have to bend over and search them out. But somehow they satisfy. Here is blue field-madder (Sherardia arvensis). It is an annual broadleaf plant that is more common to New England and coastal California than the heartland. Two to three small flowers form trumpet-shaped clusters on the stem at the bases of leaves and have six to eight leaflike structures underneath. They look somewhat like bluets which bloom way earlier.  Here is mouse ear chickweed (Cerastium fontanum) which is also called starweed. It is a mat-forming perennial. Cerastium fontanum, also called mouse-ear chickweed, common mouse-ear, and starweed, is a species of mat-forming perennials. It has tear-shaped leaves growing opposite one another in a star pattern and small white flowers with five notched petals. The flowers have 10 stamens and five styles. Don’t you love the hairy leaves.  Ground ivy (Glechoma hederacea) is derisively called Creeping Charlie. It grows on the edge of the meadow, is ubiquitous,and intensely invasive. There is nothing of value that I can say about it except for its beautiful flowers which disappear in a blink. Oh, it is simple to slowly pull out with its root if the ground is wet.  Finally this lesser celandine (Ficaria verna) is growing in our dry creek bed. It is also known as fig buttercup, figwort, pilewort, and fig crowfoot. It is a low-growing, hairless perennial flowering plantin the buttercup family Ranunculaceae. It has fleshy dark green, heart-shaped leaves and distinctive flowers with bright yellow, glossy petals. The plant is known as pilewort by some herbalists because it has historically been used to treat piles (hemorhoids).Lesser celandine is still recommended in several "current" herbal guides for treatment of hemorrhoids by applying an ointment of raw leaves as a cream or lanolin to the affected area. Getting a comercial salve appears to be easier and probably more effective.  Ode to Creeping Charlie Aromatic perennial, evergreen creeper, you thrive in dense shade yet tolerate the sun. Brought to this land by brewers and healers, you escaped cultivation, survived mower and rake. You feed the pinewood mason bee, take over my lawn, choke out bergamot and blazing star, those native flowers I cultivate in vain. There will always be more of you than I can ever remove, and yet you are my favorite weed to pull. I love that it must be done slowly, a gentle urgency in the fingers, a little tug to release your runners, knowing how firmly the earth is holding you from first snow melt to first snow fall, o ground ivy, field balm, catsfoot, alehoof, run-away-robin. Katelyn Hibbard
