the birds are back

Here's the bluejay I was trying to attract to the feeder. They are incredibly skittish, and can see me through the window. Their beady eyes are always on the lookout, and they disappear as soon as I make a move.

When I try to explain that hey - it's me - all I want is a good picture - it doesn't make a bit of difference.

We had some serious snow over the weekend, and the birds welcomed a snack. The peanuts are a real favourite.

racoon bandit

This morning I looked out at the bird feeder, hoping to see a blue jay or a chickadee, and found a much bigger visitor. A big, very fat racoon had his head in the feeder, chomping happily. I am always surprised that they can eat sunflower seeds - the hulls must be pretty dry and hard to swallow, but they manage.

After getting a few shots, I opened the deck door to get a closer look. Mr. Racoon slowly gave me a look, and wandered along the top of the railing, around the corner, and down the deck steps, eventually ambling out of sight among the trees.

He sure took his time, and not one bit scared, just slightly annoyed and resigned to the fact that he's not really welcome anywhere. But I feel lucky he put on a show for me.

Pumpkins popping up

In July, I found a cute little volunteer plant in the garden, no bigger than my thumb.  I went on holidays, and when I got back, pumpkin vines had taken over the whole garden, with leaves as big as my head!  I ended up with 12 big beautiful pumpkins, which did a whole lot better than the tomato volunteers, which bravely produced fruit but then were hit by blight and went rotten.  The parsley volunteers (pictured) are doing just fine.

My theory is that because I make my own compost and put it on the garden each spring, seeds that have over wintered in the warmth of the compost bin are ready to sprout in the spring.  Because I don't cultivate with a rotor tiller, the seedlings don't get mown down. 

The 12 pumpkins made a great display on my front steps.  They did become more yellow, but never achieved that bright orange I was expecting.  And that's the thing about gardening.  You don't always get what you expect, and there's often a surprize.

the colours of fall

The sky might be grey, but it sure makes the colours pop!  Here's my honesuckle.

 autumn crocus

Cosmos always takes a long time to flower from seed, but it sure is bright.

 perenial mallow surrounded by black eyed susans and sedum

Monkshood from Carolyn adds a stunning purple-blue.

Cllimbing rose "Blaze" is still going strong.

This picture doesn't do justice to the fiery colours of sumac.

birds of summer

It's only the middle of August, but it's been a very cold one. Signs of fall are everywhere. Flocks of birds are already meeting and discussing their plans for travelling south. They swoop through our back yard in coordinated manoeuvres and then congregate on the big tree in the back yard.

But the perennials have really loved the cool temperatures and rain showers every second day, and they are doing great.

Icelandic poppy.

I have to keep snipping off the seed heads after the petals fall off to avoid finding hundreds of new plants next year.

I started these hollyhocks from seed a few years ago, and they have rewarded me with dazzling colours over a long season.

This butterfly flower was a mail-order buy this spring, and it's already blooming beautifully.

giving up the fight

The lily beetles have won.
This spring, I had a brain wave. Why not try sprinkling spent coffee grounds on my emerging lilies to kep the beetles at bay? And it worked. Numbers went down about 90 percent.
But then I went away on vacation, and when I got back, this is what I found. The plants were totally devastated. Every green leaf was grey and dry, and the flower buds obviously were never going to open.
So - I give up. Even though I hate punishing the victim, I pulled out all the lilies, and I won't be growing any more in the future. I've been told that everything is cyclical, and that any population will swell and then crash. Let's hope that happens with this red menace.

Wild Hawaiian life

Chickens are everywhere on Hawaii. From a car rental parking lot (like the picture) to the deepest jungle to just outside the hotel room, chickens go about their business. Roosters start to crow at 4 in the morning, and it's common to see hens scurry around with their chicks. These chickens are said to be escapees from back yard chicken coops, and they have spread far and wide. A few years ago, a hurricane blue them even further afield.

A praying mantis entertained us while we were enjoying a shave ice, a most delicious treat we had every day. Finely shaved ice sprinkeled with exotic flavours such as coconut, passion fruit, lichee, "shark's blood" and lots of others I can't pronounce.

Big green sea turtles nibble on algae growing on rocks in shallow water.

While we were hiking along the Wailua River in Kawaii, we lost the trail but found lots of frogs.

The birds are amazingly tame. They come very close, love handouts while we ate outside or in an open-air restaurant. This is a Brazilian Cardinal.

Why would anyone go to Hawaii in the summer? That's a question I get a lot. Since it took 20 hours to get there, you need to stay a while, and I don't have time off work during the winter. Plus, the waves are much higher and rougher in the winter, and it can be dangerous to swim. It was not too hot, there was always a breeze, and every day was an adventure.

flowers from far away

tree hugger

anthurium

I think this is a Ti plant, which was very important to the original Hawaiians





no idea what this is, but the combination of lavender and hot pink caught my eye.

banana flower with tiny new bananas underneath

hibiscus

I haven't posted anything for a while - life got in the way. In July, my husband and I spent 18 glorious days exploring three islands in Hawaii: Oahu, Kawaii, and Maui. The landscape was so dramatic - lush green wrinkled mountains on every horizon. And the flowers were like something beyond my imagination. These pictures are a small sample of paradise.

iris

Iris is my favourite flower. From the tiny iris reticulata that blooms when there is still snow on the ground, to Japanese, Dutch (that's the white one) and bearded, I love them all.
Their season of bloom is too short, but they force me to stop and enjoy the moment, for tomorrow they'll be gone.

benefits of a wild lawn

Here's another benefit to letting a lawn be more than just grass. These tiny wild strawberries have an intense flavour that tastes nothing like their big cousins. And they're free for the picking on my front lawn.

daisies

Every year, I buy seeds for a plant I've never grown before. This year I tried Livingstone Daisy, or Ice Plant, so named because the leaves glisten like they are covered with ice crystals. The seeds were like dust, and the planting directions were really complicated, so I didn't think much would come of them, but I was surprised to find that they all germinated, and really quickly. So I was stuck with sprawling, tangled plants on my windowsills for months. The plant aren't pretty, but the flowers are truly eye-popping.

The flowers close on cloudy days and overnight. The slugs got to some of the plants, but these make up for all the trouble they were.

wild things

Now that the dandelions have finally died down, a new yellow weed has taken their place. This is my back yard, and it's too wet to mow. This yellow weed is hawkweed, which puts out a yelow flower very much like a dandelion, but smaller. It's a creeper, which puts out new shoots which root everywhere. Every once in a while, an orange flower appears.
My lawn has very little real grass - besides those two mentioned above, there is creeping thyme, clover, plantain, ox-eye daisy, etc. - but the leaves are green, and I'm ok with that.

I'm constantly meeting up with huddles of tiny spiderlings in my yard. Breathe on them, and they scatter, then slowly come back together again. They are cute now, but by September I'll be meeting up with huge ones in every corner. But spiders are the good guys, and they are always welcome in my garden.

coffee grounds scare off lily beetles

A few weeks ago, I had a brain wave - check the post from May 6. I had grabbed a bag of spent coffee grounds from those nice people at Starbucks, and soothed my soul with a latte. What best to do with this black gold? Then I had a brain wave. Maybe they would discourage lily beetles, which every year turn my lovely lilies into a chewed, pooped on mess. So I sprinkled the coffee grounds onto the centres of every lily I have - and I have a lot.
At first I thought it might be the cold weather that was keeping them away, but even on a warm day there are now considerably fewer of the scarlet nasties - not even 10 percent of the numbers last year. The coffee has to be reapplied after a rain.
I would love to hear from someone in blog land who has also tried this experiment.


I was walking through a garden centre on a blustery cold day when this iris caught my eye. It's a colour I have never seen before. So of course I bought it and gave it a good home.
The blur at the bottom of the pic is the cat's tail. He's quite the publicity hog.

late signs of spring

The heleborus is one of the first flowers to bloom in my garden. They are a woodland perennial, and like partial shade, and rich moist soil. These nodding, downward facing flowers will last through most of the summer. Gradually their colour will fade, but they are still beautiful.

The first spider web of the season is a beautiful thing. Invisible till it's touched with dew first thing on a misty morning.

15 years ago, I planted 3 dead-looking sticks that promised to be ostrich ferns. One I actually planted upside down in the fall. In the spring, I dug it up, flipped it around, and it thrived. The lesson: when in doubt, plant sideways.

waiting for the hummers

It's already June, and I haven't seen a single humming bird this year. At first I thought it might be because it's still so cold, but this might be the real reason: Amber the cat

rules are meant to be broken

Back in the fields behind my house is a big pile where spring bulbs are dumped after blooming at Veseys. Hyacinths, daffodils, tulips and scilla are scattered everywhere, and here they stay over the summer, fall, and winter. The following spring, they sprout and bloom, still lying sideways on top of the ground.







Here you can see bulbs which are blooming after a few years of being dumped here. They seem to be trying to dig themselves into the soil.

What's funny is that they are blooming and breaking all the rules. The books say to dig a hole and plant bulbs 2.5 times their height, set them pointy side up, cover them well, fertilze, mulch, etc.

But here they are, doing very well on their own, with no help from a rule-keeping gardener.