“One of the best things about a garden, large or small, is that it is never finished. It is a continual experiment.”
–Margery Bianco, author of “The Velveteen Rabbit”
Passing by the raised beds, I noticed weeds popping up so I stopped, plucked a few, and flung them into the grass. Either Sam would mow over them or perhaps they would take root in the bare spots, but probably not.
It was one of the cooler mornings, the ones that have since passed. The weeds reminded me of a friend’s comments on her wildflowers. She said, “A few of the wildflowers came up, but they are mostly weeds.”
“According to Felder Rushing, that’s what weeds are,” I said. “Flowers out of place.”
I’d have to agree though, some of the sprouts did look a little “weedy.” I’m thinking next year when the flowers reseed I’ll have a better-looking wildflower garden. The rains this year have helped. The damp ground eased the weeding, and the rain cut down on watering.
A few plants and flowers I planted years ago miraculously emerged for the first time. There’s a beautiful orange flower, tiny like a lily; I have no idea what it is. I cut a few and arranged them for the house. They have an oriental look about them, a pleasant surprise.
The lakes are high, with water rushing out the spillway. Sam reported hundreds of fry, not as in “fish fry” but as in little hatchlings, were swept out the spillway and down into the fields. Not a good place for fry. There was a time when Sam would scoop them all up and hurry back to the lake, but that day it was a little too late.
A couple of years ago we had trouble with beaver damming up the spillway. As soon as we discovered their hut we’d tear it down. When the drought came we thought better of it and not only left the dam, but built it up higher. After we restored the dam the beaver left in a huff.
The two Pekin ducks have started up their evening walks to the house. It’s quite a long walk and not without danger. Pekin ducks can’t fly so they are literally sitting ducks as they cross the field. Hilda is walking with a limp. I tell her ducks are not meant to walk across fields. As soon as I see them or hear them quacking, I usher them back down to water and feed them.
Harry, the cat, likes to tag along. He enjoys a nibble of white duck bread. It hasn’t dawned on Harry the ducks are birds and cats chase birds. It has dawned on him the ducks are as big as he is. Wilhelmina, my dainty female cat, prefers not to walk across the field for a mere bite of white bread.
I’m sorry to report my tomato project is not faring well. An overnight attack of tomato worms left several plants bereft of leaves. The greenhouse plants are spindly with few blooms and lots of white flies. Oddly enough, the kale continues to thrive; an ornamental potato vine is growing like kudzu.
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