Tag: garden friends

In which I confront fearsome creatures in the wild (or at least my garden)

Between the heat and the wildfire smoke, I have been confronting fearsome creatures in the wilds of my yard.

First up? This predator:

Tabby cat in a garden bed between sedum and salvia.

The neighbor’s cat has taken to lounging around like it’s queen of the world. It also left me a tribute: a dead mouse. (No picture of that; you can thank me later.)

On the positive side, I think it (or its orange tabby friend) has taken care of whatever borrowing critter was disrupting my garden beds.

Then, there are these turkeys. No, really, they’re turkeys.

Mama and baby turkeys in the garden.

They are still wandering through the yard once or twice a day. Glad I can provide a smorgasbord for them.

On the other hand? These two troublemakers:

Two bucks eating hosta plants

These two show up every day and try to stealthily eat the hosta plants in the front yard. I have to be careful about shooing them away since they tend to bolt into the road out front. Also, that one in the back may be a ten-point buck. Impressive.

Last, but not least, this fellow:

Caterpillar on a marigold

I think it’s some kind of woolly caterpillar. I believe it’s native (that seems to be the consensus from internet searches). In any case, it’s napping, not eating. Plus, that’s a marigold, which is one of nature’s pest controls.

The grass is, once again, up past my ankles. I need to go rinse off all the bug spray and check for the most fearsome creature of all: the deer tick.

Garden this and that

I spent the early hours of the day in the garden, before the heat became unbearable. I ended up soaked in sweat anyway, but it’s the first time I’ve had a chance to do some gardening.

Sadly, my cauliflower and broccoli are no more, thanks to one of the most destructive creatures on earth: tiny baby bunnies. They ate all the leaves and that was that. (And yes, I have the vegetable garden fenced, but baby bunnies are insidious.)

The cucumbers, though, are just fine.

The wall of morning glories I planted for the hummingbirds did not materialize. However, there are plenty of other flowers. Between those and the feeder, the hummingbirds don’t seem to mind the lack of morning glories.

My phlox is blooming despite the fact that deer came through and chomped the tops off a few weeks ago.

My hydrangeas are blooming—I just leave them alone. So far, so good.

It’s pollinator central in the yard—all kinds of bees and other pollinators, and more butterflies this year than I’ve seen in a long time. Despite everything being kind of a mess, I feel like I must be doing something right.

So, my less-than-pristine garden continues to grow. I think there’s a (somewhat obvious) metaphor for writing in all this. It’s messy, unpredictable, doesn’t always turn out the way you expect it to, but it’s always worth it.  

The aptly-named bee balm, with mandatory bumble bee

Tiny burst of joy

In a week of meetings, appointments, getting my daughter’s car to the shop, there was this:

Ruby-throated hummingbird

This tiny burst of joy showed up in less than twenty-four hours after I put out the hummingbird feeder. Not sure they’re nesting yet. However, one did do a hover and hello when I was working in the garden this week.

Speaking of the garden, that’s where I’m headed right now to uncover—or plant—other bursts of joy. So I’m keeping this check-in short today. My writing this week was slow, steady, and positive, although not very flashy.

Of writing tears and garden friends

So, I’ve been on a patented Jo March writing tear (I really need to get a writing cap like Jo has). This is on the new book (series, duology—your guess is as good as mine) I mentioned a while back.

It is coming along, which is all I’m going to say at this point in the project.

Mattie and Oscar helping in the garden.

In other (wonderful) news: Spring. Has. Sprung.

We are planting, haphazardly, it’s true. Despite taking the master gardening course, I will most likely remain a haphazard gardener.

So, yes, that’s an entire flat of zinnias you see. No, I have no idea where I’m going to plant an entire flat of zinnias. It’s true our eyes are much bigger than our garden space.

Toad resting beneath an eggplant.
Squirrel despondent since I replaced the birdseed feeder with the hummingbird one.