What's Peaking in Mid-July

Two cherry tomato plants (Sun Gold and Sweet Million)
are producing a bowlful per day. We've begun bartering them for eggs
with a neighbor.

The new butterfly garden looks lovely,
with a nameless salvia, crocosmia and coneflower,
but I've seen perhaps two butterflies there. Lots of bees, though. 

Cosmos in the parsley

It rained nearly every afternoon for what seemed like weeks.

The cucumber trellised itself on the cherry tomato plant.

This brown thrasher spent several minutes rubbing its belly
and preening on the top of the Prius. 

This bunny thinks he owns the garden. He's been eating coneflowers,
coreopsis and on the plus side, Johnson grass. 

Crepe myrtles are peaking.

A small milkweed bug on the butterfly weed.

I can't decide if this combination of two unusual kinds of coleus
and basket grass is creatively inspired or hideous. 

Praying Mantis to Mystery Flower: 10 Days

A praying mantis waits for prey on a nasturtium in the veggie garden.

I'm glad I photographed this butterfly
 because I haven't seen one since. Where are you, butterflies?

The veggie jungle

Bees of different varieties are obsessed with the flowering oregano.

The red hibiscus flowers turn into umbrellas. Rain, rain, rain -
we've been getting late day storms nearly every day.

Daylilies remain stunning.

We took a spontaneous 24-hour trip to the beach at Salter Path, N.C., 

when we got the last room available at our favorite retreat center. 

Swimming held by the waves and walking the beach is a prayer.

Beach at sunset

Beach at sunrise

Blackberry picking

A mystery flower emerges from a tall plant with iris-like leaves.
Can you identify it?

Goldfinch on Coneflower

How many birds dance on the head of a coneflower? 

Only one that I've seen - the American goldfinch.

The male goldfinch, dressed in his brightest summer yellow, goes to some trouble to get the coneflower seeds.  He clings to the stem, digging deep into the head with his beak, while the stem sways with his weight.

The goldfinch moves from side to side of the flower, intently focused on getting to the seeds, and digging, digging with his beak. Perhaps this is why coneflowers look so ragged this time of year?

The goldfinch then moves to the patch where beebalm and coneflowers intermingle.  I admit that the seedheads are not attractive to a conventional gardener. But they provide food for birds - and also are sources of seedlings (free plants!). This is a reason I don't deadhead until early spring.

After much swaying on the stem and contorting his head, the goldfinch looks at the photographer.

Not to be outdone, the ruby-throated hummingbird shows up to feed on potted impatiens.

Some days I have waited for hours with the camera for birds to appear in a particular spot. Today, I expected to have no time to watch nature because I am crashing on a deadline for my thesis proposal. But I happened to be walking by the window, saw the goldfinch outside, and one thing led to another. 

A small grace. 

June: What's in Bloom

The garden surprised me this morning with this beautiful bloom, the first of the season on Rose of Sharon 'Helene.'

Often I am disappointed that I can't get the camera to record the beauty of what I see. But sometimes the camera makes beauty out of something ordinary. I almost missed the hidden bloom on the Rose of Sharon. 

I've been watching the beebalm flowers emerge.  Before I picked up the camera and began documenting my garden, I rarely paid attention to the beauty of emerging blooms. 

Beebalm (Monarda didyma 'Raspberry Wine') has commandeered a sizable patch in my too-small sunny perennials bed. Actually, it's only a part-sun bed, but sunny is a relative term in the woodland garden. The bees and butterflies love it, so I don't have the heart to groom the monarda patch the way I probably should. 

It grows with coneflower in my garden. Hmm ... these were sold to me as dwarf coneflowers a few years ago. Maybe one of the plants is still a dwarf.

I've also been watching the coneflowers (Echinacea purpurea) emerge. They have a different personality in each stage. Coneflowers, too, attract butterflies. 

Blue flowers look cool in the heat. Salvia guaranitica grows in part sun and is visited regularly by the ruby-throated hummingbird. 

Dwarf plumbago (Ceratostigma plumbaginoides)

is attractive on the edge of the bed. I think it would flower better in full sun, but I'm happy with anything that flowers. 

A frilled pale yellow lily (name tag long lost) has been blooming prolifically under Salvia guaranitica. It has a wonderful fragrance, too. 

Speaking of fragrance, Gardenia jasminoides 'Radicans' is now in full bloom. It's a low-growing variety that blooms after Kleim's Hardy has finished flowering. It has wonderful, intricate blossoms. 

Abelia is also in full bloom. Its blooms are dainty and waft a sweet scent over the stone walkway. I like its arching branches. It nicely screens the neighbor's house, too. 

This aster is blooming now. I lost its name tag, too. I didn't suspect I would become a garden blogger.

I adore the cheery yellow blooms of rudbeckias (Rudbeckia hirta) and the way they self-seed. They don't bloom much in part sun and tend to flop over. Darn. The goldfinches don't help when they try to land on the stems. (Imagine being light enough to cling to a flower stem.)

Virginia mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianium) is a native plant with miniature blooms that attract pollinators, including butterflies. 

Last is one disappointment, Coreopsis verticillata. I planted three plants five or six years ago. They bloomed well the first few years and spread to form a mass. As soon as they took over a good portion of the "sunny" perennial bed, they decided to be stingy with blossoms. I threatened them last week after reading Jean's post, Bloom or Get Out.  I see what look like tiny yellow buds on them, but they've been there for weeks. I'm tempted to pull them out now, but it's really stupid to put in new plants in midsummer in North Carolina. I should know - I do it almost every year. 

When I look, I always find more in bloom than I think in the woodland garden.