via: The Internet Archive
It was a wet and windy weekend, and by this morning, almost all the pretty leaves had blown away. There are a few bright patches here and there, but the riot of colour is finished for another year. Jack and I set out feeling a bit blue about the bare trees, but the sun was shining, the day was warm and pleasant, and it wasn’t long before we were both feeling better. The colour may be gone looking up, but there’s still plenty of pretty here on the ground. We passed burning bushes burning scarlet and porches with pumpkins and mums in pots. We found lavender of the palest blue, golden hostas and even a red-breasted robin picking at purple berries. The fallen leaves from the weekend are still full of colour, too, and they brightly litter the ground in every direction. Jack says he can see the leaves better this way, and he thinks that’s why they fall – so the small creatures who don’t look up much can appreciate them too. I didn’t tell him otherwise.
Opus has sent us something special – a lovely story accompanied by some gorgeous photos. Enjoy.
When I was growing up in north Georgia, in the early 1960s, my mother always grew moon vines. I remember that the seeds needed a lot of help to germinate – soaking, followed by nicking with a nail file. The vines were nothing special, much like many members of the morning glory family. However, unlike morning glories, moon vines bloom in the evening. Mom always grew them in pots on the front porch, to make it easier to keep an eye on them. In my hazy memories, they always opened as darkness fell. Earlier this summer I ran across some seeds and decided to see if they were as beautiful as I remembered.
The plant has had two blooms so far, with more on the way. I missed the first; was busy inside and just didn’t notice until the next morning.. I was alert the next evening, and the bloom was well on its way to opening by early evening when I checked.
I had not seen one bloom in well over 50 years and had forgotten: it was spectacular. I usually do plant photography in the studio, with lots of light and gadgets galore. This was just an iPhone, and a truly mind-boggling subject. No edits, no cropping, no tweaking.
I have nothing to add to the pictures.
Well, one thing: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ipomoea_alba
Click through to see the magnificent flowers. [Read more…]
I apologize to Avalus for taking so long to post these photos. I received them near the end of August when things were hectic for me and I didn’t have consistent access to the internet. They’re beautiful pictures and I’m delighted to share them today.
Here is a beautiful butterfly. It might be a popular monarch (Limenitis populi) or a white admiral (Limenitis camilla), but I am not sure. In German they are called big and small Eisvogel (Kingfisher).
I can’t think of a better way to end the month than with Nightjar’s portraits of the light.
Here I am to share the last chapter in the Light series. I started it October last year, so the only month missing was September. And what better way to end the series than with birds! For me September is the month of birds, especially because of the arrival of willow warblers and flycatchers and because it always seems like there are birds everywhere. All of these photos were taken on the same day, September 10. The light was lovely and I was very lucky with the waxbills, flycatchers, willow warblers, greenfinches and goldfinches. Thank you all and I hope you enjoyed the series. :)
A bit of fun from Avalus,
In my parents garden, we had a visitor recently: this young parakeet (I guess it is a rose-ringed one, Psittacula krameri). It was a bit roughed up by the neighbour’s cat, but it stood its ground and was not injured. The cat on the other hand has a new appreciation of sharp beaks, I guess. The bird did not mind us too much and tried to climb everything. We later had to save it from drowning in our rainwater barrel and it then for a while did not want leave the net on a stick we used on him. Still determined to climb something, it finally scaled our toolshed walls and a few hours later flapped away. The photos are a bit of a searching puzzle.
A beautiful, short, sad story from Avalus.
Last year, I photographed bumblebees on lavender. This year, it was much less frequented but still abuzz with all kinds of bees. You can really see how much less insects are around.
Jack and I decided to spend some time in the garden this morning. I did a few minutes worth of weeding and Jack helpfully surveyed the damage done to my hibiscus by hungry little caterpillars – the bastards! No matter, it’s near the end of garden season and Jack and I are both looking forward to the arrival of fall next week. The boy loves the cooler temps and all the new smells that come with the season of decay. My pitiful human nose can’t appreciate most of the smells, but I do have excellent eyes to appreciate all the colours.
We both hope you get outdoors to enjoy this last weekend of summer. We’ll be back on Monday so we’ll see you in the fall!
I’ve always thought of hibiscus as a tropical flower, but over the past few years I’ve noticed several of my neighbours plant the bush successfully right here in not-even-remotely-tropical Ontario. I love the big, bright, showy flowers that hibiscus put out so I thought I’d take a chance and plant one in my own garden. That was in the spring of 2018 and I took great care to give the plant the best start possible. I chose a nice sunny spot, amended the soil with horse manure and peat before planting and then hand watered it twice a day for weeks. By early July when we left for the east coast the plant had settled in and was growing well so I was expecting to see flowers when we got home.
Then our return home was delayed and delayed again and then delayed some more after that. By the time we got home it was the end of September and the flowers were finished and gone. The big, beautiful flowers were bountiful – so I was told – but I never got to see them. I had lots of people describe them to me and every single person made a circle with their hands to show me their size, but no-one had a picture to share. I’ve had to wait all the way until today to see what my big, red hibiscus flowers look like. I won’t describe them to you. I took a photo instead.
This pretty pink sedum plant lives along one of our regular walking routes and I’ve been waiting for the colours to emerge. I haven’t seen it in a week or so and was happily surprised today with its progress. Just look at all those delicate pinks jumbled together like a bag of confetti. This plant is throwing its own garden party!