Saying Goodbye to a Garden

It's been a week of lasts. Last visit to the Carrboro Farmer's Market on a Saturday morning. Last watering of plants in the garden. Last sitting on a bench in the backyard watching birds. Last walks on familiar routes, where I saw deer and red-shouldered hawks. One block from my house, I heard a rustling in the trees along the road. I stopped, waited and a doe emerged, then two tiny fawns, covered in white spots. The doe stood still, looking right at me. I looked back. One fawn and then the other ran to their mother and began nursing.

Later, behind the deer fence, I dug up favorite plants. I felt a slight sense of guilt, even though these are my plants. But the letter of the contract on the house sale says that all plants in the ground are considered part of the property. Shh... Who's to know three or four dozen plants are moving with me? In fact, they're already resting under a pine tree at the new house, where the seller kindly offered to water them.

I took my favorites. Young shrubs that have not yet bloomed - two native azaleas, one pinxterbloom and one 'Clyo Red.' A Clethra alnifolia 'Hummingbird,' an Ilex sentinel holly, my only surviving blueberry bush. Two Christmas ferns, a few heucheras of purple and green variegated and limegreen foliage, hellebores, a spreading tiarella, three canna lilies ('Bengal Tiger') and a maidenhair fern. Japanese roof lilies, green 'n gold, and monarda, all of which will spread to become sizable patches. There must have been more - I dug for hours and filled two cars with plants, but I am not thinking clearly after days of packing.

More than 30 plants fit in a compact Prius.

I wish I could move the bluebirds with me. I believe the eggs hatched the other day. The male bluebird has been hovering around the box, proudly perching on the box top with fat green caterpillars and later a yellow moth. The bluebird then would fly to a favorite dead branch, eat his meal and return to the box, sometimes disappearing inside. This morning the male kept anxiously peering at the hole after the female went inside with an insect.

Then he disappeared inside the box. I'll miss the bluebirds. I hope bluebirds come live at our house in Raleigh. 

Brown Pelican Says...

I try to keep my appreciation of nature separate from politics, but sometimes a cause calls. 

If our climate keeps warming at such a rapid pace, the barrier island where I saw this pelican will be underwater. 

Carolina Wrens' New Home

Fortunately, there is no reason to decide which is my favorite bird - bluebirds or Carolina wrens. Both are nesting within feet of the front of the house. The wrens began home-building one day last week when the impatiens in the hanging basket grew tall enough to conceal a nest.

Wrens love to hop. One lands on the deck railing and looks up to the flower basket before taking a leap upward.

The nest is fairly obvious (note messy-looking leaf pile) from inside the house, but is well-concealed from the other three sides. The wrens first excavated a hole in the dirt, then brought old, soft leaves to line the nest. It has a side entrance, from which the wren below is exiting.

I presume the mother is sitting on her eggs as I speak. I've been working too much to monitor the nest closely. 

The wrens built their home as we prepare to leave ours. We're moving at the end of the month. I think I envy the birds their lack of possessions. No need for complicated logistics and expensive movers. Select a pot of flowers, move some leaves, and in one day - new home. 

Wordless Wednesday: Bluebirds

May Weekend: Birds, Beef and Strawberries

Sometimes the world of busyness becomes overwhelming and I get lost in my head. Do more, do faster, do better! Then I know it's time to move outdoors. 

For the first time in ages I set up the tripod to photograph birds. This year the bluebirds failed to claim their box and a titmouse family moved in. 

Last week we had a scare. The headlights of the car one evening caught the neighbor's cat perched on the top of the bluebird box. I feared a titmouse tragedy, and inspected the ground below, where one tiny white feather rested on the mulch. But the next day the titmice were busy bringing insects, as usual, and disappearing into the hole. Cautiously, I opened the box, ready to photograph the baby birds. The soft mossy nest covered only the bottom third of the box and the little birds were hiding. I was secretly relieved.

The catbirds returned in mid-April. They think the birdbath is theirs.

The garden is lush and green. Not many native plants are in bloom in this lull between spring and summer. But the penstemons catch the morning light. 

I have missed the old routines. My husband and I were finally able to go to the Carrboro farmer's market on Saturday morning and then to the Hogans' farm to buy steaks. 

I like being able to see the cows eating grass or lounging in the shade. The cows were too far from the road to get a decent photo, so I'll go straight to the meat. This grass-fed beef raised by friends is our exception to a vegetarian diet.

Magnolias are already in bloom. It's hard to be sad when smelling a magnolia.

After many weeks of talking about strawberry picking, we finally did it. I need deadlines, and the note on the website of the Whitted Bowers biodynamic farm said this weekend may be the last for strawberries if the heat keeps up. We picked 8 pounds of berries.

They taste as good as they look. I think they're the best strawberries I've ever had.

At the farmer's market, they gave out free packets of pectin for freezer jam. It was easy to make (even for the cooking-impaired).

There is an awful lot of sugar in jam. Best not to dwell on that.

The recipe said it would make 5 8-oz. jars of jam. Hmmm... We also have a ziploc filled with strawberry jam that I decided to exclude from the photo for symmetry's sake.

It would be nice to have a snappy conclusion to this post. But I must get ready to leave the house yet again for another showing. Who requests a showing on Sunday at 5 o'clock? 

Wordless Wednesday: Mystery Rhody

April Blooms

I accidentally hit the publish button before writing any text. Perhaps that is fitting. There is too much to say. It is the one-year anniversary of my starting this garden blog. Spring has been stunning - at first too fast, then slower with cooler weather. I am struggling with being a gardener whose house is for sale. Do I put in new plants? Or do the minimum effort necessary to keep the garden looking good? It is sad to know I will have to leave a garden that I have created for the past eight-plus years. (Sometimes, however, the stress of not knowing gets to me and I just want to turn my back on the garden and start a new one, this time with more sun.) 

The garden after many years is maturing to that full, more cottagey effect, with serendipity playing a large part in the garden's look. The columbine, below, self-seeded in profusion among flagstones. 

Tiarella (foamflower) is adorable along the path edges and a long bloomer, though photos never do it justice.

The light transforms a mainly green scene.

Tulips fall from the sky. Usually they are broken and faded, and my husband and I have been known to disparage the "mess" created by poplars. But this one was a gift. I now understand why the tree is called a tulip popular.

Iris cristata has taken over a large swath of shady slope in just 2-3 years.

The stunner in my garden the last two weeks has been the grape-purple columbine of an unknown variety purchased from the farmer's market 2 years ago.

Azaleas are now past their peak, but here are a few photos from a week or so ago.

Japanese roof iris spreads beautifully.  

Bugleweed seeds itself around, but I let it.

More of the purple columbine edging the path.

Green and gold is probably my favorite groundcover. Tough, easy, native, pretty.

Japanese kerria has graceful arching branches. It thrives in part shade and fits a woodland aesthetic. It is past its peak now, but was at its prime a few days ago.