Effieland’s Sweet Peas respond well to heat and watering, and we respond to their delicate beauty with joy.
My husband planted this pear tree four years ago. It was only a foot tall! Now it’s seven feet tall and we celebrate its first year bearing fruit.
Our plums are on their way, and we hope for ripe fruit late in July.
Before Effie’s dad deployed the weedeater in Effieland yesterday evening, Effie roamed the tall grass, stalking and pouncing on bugs, napping in the shade, and other important cat activities. Her grass-green eyes zero in on the tiniest bugs and the tastiest grass.
I love gaillardias. More will follow and provide a large patch of vibrancy, as they have each year since we planted them. They outlast the sunflowers, and display their sunny brightness at the edge of our driveway.
I have to admit it wasn’t easy, holding Effie and holding my camera, composing the selfie, and tracking her squirms. . . .
For the several years my husband has planted sunflower seeds in the spring, they have come up tall and strong by the onset of summer in all their Sunflower Yellow glory. Ours are now forming flowers in their still-green stage. Their stalks are straight, tall, strong, and prickly.
I was trying to recall who wrote a poem with a refrain, “And I am waiting for the rebirth of wonder,” and came up with Lawrence Ferlinghetti, in whose poetry I lost interest while I was still in high school. I Googled the quote anyway, and it seems lots of people have used it, and it wasn’t expressly clear whether Ferlinghetti was the first.
Whoever wrote this line, it enters my mind when I await the bloom of sunflowers, and other wondrous and beautiful bounties with which our Creator blesses us, for nothing we have done.
A sunflower begins its complex process of blooming: it will undergo metamorphoses from verdant to gold, and prickles to petals.
“I am waiting for the rebirth of wonder.”
Another fitting line: “Death is the mother of beauty.” (from Wallace Stevens’s poem, Sunday Morning).
Suspended between grapevine support logs in Effieland is a sturdy shelf, and on the shelf is perched a large flower pot, and the flower pot is filled with rich potting soil. Growing in the rich potting soil are the most tasty catnip leaves in the whole world. I know this only because Effie is a connoisseur of such things. I feed her a couple of leaves a day as a treat. I am fortunate to still have all my fingers.
The catnip leaves grow here
. . .and they go here.