Sunday, April 29, 2012
Quiet Garden Joys
The long-stemmed Solomon's seal (Polygonatum biflorum) above and below all came from a few divisions Mom and Dad brought over from their garden and planted here about fifteen years ago. They never fail to astonish with their rapid growth, easily bounding up or eight inches in a week, before arcing into their floral stage. They're just beginning to drop their white bell flowers into action, and I wish I could be here to watch.
As for witnessing, I managed to catch this California quail following his mate -- he's probably annoyed that Paul removed some of the shrub he liked hiding in, but she's gone ahead and scurried into some nearby blackberry bushes. Several pairs were introduced by residents of our tiny island many decades ago, as game birds, I believe, and they've settled in quite comfortably (no one's hunted them for eons!). I love to hear their poultry-like chuk-chukking through the year, and especially love to see them shepherding their large broods across the open road, consternation all a-flutter. (You'll have to click to enlarge this photo to see what I'm talking about, but he's scooting across that large flat rock.)
But if they don't, no matter. I do have some compensations in store for missing these, as you know. Today we're heading over to Vancouver where we'll have dinner with Oldest Daughter and her family (which includes our dear granddaughter). Meanwhile, I offer these views of the small garden corners that offer their discreet, easily dismissed pleasures. We often tell ourselves to slow down, to "stop and smell the roses." But we'd do even better to stop and notice the wee flowers, the fleeting blooms of the herbaceous perennials that emerge in the spring, their foliage often receding at the first signs of summer heat and drought. . .