One gardener's observations, discoveries and random thoughts whilst simultaneously worshipping and dallying in a Cape Cod garden. "A garden," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is like those pernicious machineries which catch a man's coatskirt or his hand, and draw in his arm, his leg and his whole body to irresistable destruction."

Memorial Day


Happy Memorial Day, everyone!

Had an early start on this one, with a loud and close thunderstorm passing through here around 3:30 this morning. I ended up staying awake and so was able to get a nice early look at the misty garden at dawn.

I’m glad I stopped at the steps to our meadow, or I might not have noticed this blue spiderwort in bloom.


Dianthus and Allyssum blooming together in a back garden border.
Martial marigolds at dawn.

It was an enjoyable visit to the garden. It’s always easier to spot new seedlings against the dark of the wet ground…and with a good rain this time of year, there’s always new growth to make note of, and this morning, there were slugs to pick off of plants, too.

I was just about to wander back up to the house for another cup of coffee when another shower arrived, fast and heavy, and so I sheltered in the garden shed for a little while, enjoying the sight of the garden so lush and green as I waited for the heaviest rain to pass.


With the rain, it was easy to justify going back to bed for a couple of hours.

Eventually, the weather improved with afternoon, but leisure still ruled the day.

It was a good day to for lying around and wearing hats.

At some point, I did manage to tear myself away from the active lifestyles being pursued indoors for some time in the sun.

Here’s some of the yellow nemesias recently planted.
Also, another look at those old school double white daffodils.

As always a bit of weeding and transplanting was done, especially in that new outer arm of the garden. I extended the two shell paths that cross that long bed, connecting them to the new edging. The last of the gladiola bulbs found their way into the ground (now that the first planted are beginning to rise), and I also got the morning glory seeds planted around various climbing areas.

I think I was moving a clump of wild daisies when I first heard this bird’s song, bright and vivid and attention-getting, it came from high in the newly-leafed oak trees. I figured it was some kind of warbler, but was then struck with the beauty of this strange new visitor.

Here he remained high above (a bitter irony in that my pictures of him were actually better the further away he was), but well-lit in the angle of the afternoon sun.

It was cool to see a bird I’d never spotted before, and one that appeared that it would be easily identified from such striking markings. Indeed, there’s nothing else in the bird book quite like the Rose-Breasted Grosbeak.

As I watched and snapped photos, he circled around the garden. Then he came down to perch on a rose trellace and await his turn at the bird bath.

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