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."

About the Rain


Monday began under heavy clouds, a wet mist hanging over us and creating the illusion of rain when viewed from a distance.

Although rain was in the forecast, I’ve been fooled by fizzling prognostications before and so I made sure everything had a nice drink this morning.

As I suspected, the first snapdragon will be a pink one. It’s color stood revealed as the first buds low on the stalk swelled up.

I keep trying to get some current images for you all of the sunflowers. However, they continue their climb toward the sky all the time and even these photos from yesterday morning are no longer entirely accurate. As you can see, soon I’ll have a way up to the kingdom of the giants.

It’s frustrating, from a photography stand-point, but just thrilling to me as a gardener.

In front of the big rose bush, the creeping phlox are blooming a little more steadily now.

The verbena bonariensis’ wonderful tiny flowers are a perfect foil, color-wise, for the nearby white foxglove and red jupiter’s beard.

The second rose plant continues to provide new flowers, each one charming to behold, and sweet to sniff.


Except for the briefest passing shower in the late afternoon, rain didn’t find us until nearly 8:00 in the evening, arriving just before the first long roll of thunder, followed quickly by another.

I’d hope we were going to see a nice lightning show and had the camera tripod-ed for the occasion. I figure the best hope I have of a decent lightning photo is to set up for video and go for a screen capture.

The storm didn’t move exactly in our direction, however, and although there were a few promising flashes, it seemed to fade. Counting the delay from flash until thunder to calculate the storm’s distance from us, it never seemed closer than ten miles off…and then it was gone.

Still, there’s something about the experience of enjoying a good summer rain. The smell of it when it first sizzles against the hot pavement, the rustling sound of the first raindrops stirring the leaves of everything in the garden.

Heavy drops off the roof hit the yellow tickseed coreopsis, bending it’s stem, to bounce back up, the flowerhead dancing at the end of the stalk. That thrill of the thunder rolling, first distant, then suddenly on top of you.

It’s not all good, of course, since the rain sends the mosquitos into something of a frenzy and it’s not like the porch here is screened in; it’s just an awning over concrete at the front of the house. But they were minor, really, though I came away with a few good bites.

I chose sleep last evening, for a change, instead of blogging. But I also did a bit of garden reading, which I’ll enlighten you on another time soon.

Since I had the day off, and it had rained so nicely in the night, and it was still quite cloudy, I had all I needed in justification for sleeping in a bit this morning.

Naturally, my cat buddy was all purring and adorableness and fingertip-nibbling at 5:12 a.m. Sigh…

The sun is being bashful today, though the clouds have thinned enough to brighten the day. I’ll be heading out to address some weeding concerns shortly.

But hey, look what the rain brought: the first clematis flower of the season!!

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