"If it's Tuesday, it must be . . ." tumblr. Week Six

Tuesday is here again, and you know what that means, dear reader — if it's Tuesday, it must be tumblr. However,  before I send you there, I would like to share a few thoughts about November, since today is also November First.

This past Thursday, when I was walking home to my studio apartment in the Upper Westside of Manhattan, the rain was falling heavily, and even though it was only somewhere between five-thirty and six in the evening, it was quite dark, prompting me to think that soon we'd be changing the clocks  (fyi, the date to do this is the second Sunday in November to leave daylight savings time), and that it would be getting darker much earlier in the evening.
The streets were quiet that evening; and while the hour said it should be dusk, "the state or period of partial darkness between day and night; the dark part of twilight", the darkness, enhanced by the heavy rain, was more than "partial", and it was quite peaceful, as it always seems to be when November approaches.  The very early part of November. The part before it becomes Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving becomes Christmas (or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa), and Christmas becomes New Year's and New Year's becomes Valentine's Day and Valentine's Day becomes Easter (or Passover), and Easter (or Passover) becomes Memorial Day, and Memorial Day becomes The Fourth of July, and The Fourth of July becomes Labor Day, and Labor Day becomes Halloween, and then it is November and where did its thirty days go?


It always seems they go by quickly (even if some "single" days can feel like they are a year long), and, because time passes the way it does, November, with the change of colors it brings to the leaves (at least in the northeastern part of the United States where I live), is a good time to remember.


I am aware of the fact that the expression, "remember November" has election connotations associated with it, but my association (perhaps because I am an urban gardener) with remembering and November is to appreciate the changing colors of the leaves which happens at this time. My Ipomocea multifida (Cardinal Climber AKA "CC"), which was lush with emerald-green leaves and bursting with red flowers only  just a couple of months ago (please click here for my September 8th 2011 post about my then thriving "CC"), is now sporting an array of colored leaves (evidenced in two of the photographs included with this posting.These beautiful leaves will soon be falling. and therefore it is essential that I heed the advice offered in Elizabeth Lawrence's quote: "Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn." 


Ms. Lawrence did not live in this digital age where folks rarely take time to look up from their hand-held devices (even while they are walking across city streets), much less look at nature, but it is November First, and just as the leaves are changing, we too can turn a new leaf in our routines and stop – yes I did say stop — and watch the leaves turn. This is November's answer to spring's adage, "stop and smell the roses"!


And it is almost too late for those who live in the northeastern tri-state to do this, to stop and watch the leaves turn, for we were "hit" this past Saturday by an unexpected raging snowstorm (albeit a "soupy and gloopey one) that knocked many of the leaves off our vines, shrubs, and trees! However, the vines, shrubs and trees are resilient and forgiving: they will give us another chance to watch the leaves turn.


In fact, my Continus Coggygria AKA Smokey Bush, Royal Purple, and Grace, seemed to delight in the icy-soup of snow that pounded on her leaves and branches; she was very cavalier about the whole thing; and she even seemed to be playing catch (and maybe she could teach our — ahem — New York baseball teams a thing or two about catching) with the cold mushy snow that fell upon her. This is evident in the image posted below:

Leaves, as you know, dear reader, are a big part of my inspiration, or I would not have called my blog, The Last Leaf Gardener, as per a story which you may refer to by clicking here. And the leaves of my Continus Coggygria AKA Smokey Bush, Royal Purple, and Grace are no exception.


I have written about this magnificent shrub in a number of previous blog entries including ones which you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here and here, and you will find more (but not all) by clicking here and here and here. Additionally, I have featured images of my Continus Coggygria's leaves within my Flickr Gallery in a set called AUTUMN LEAVES: "Even if something is left undone, everyone must take time to sit still and watch the leaves turn,"  and if you'd like to view them, please click here, and look for the set with the aforementioned name.


Moreover, the leaves of ny Continus Coggygria provided the inspiration for an all occasion greeting card which I created called 'Grace' (Smokey Bush). This card is wonderful for sending to someone near and dear to you at any time, but it is particularly nice for sending at this time of year.


This lovely card is featured within the Card Shoppe Pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art ,and a link to find its location within the aforementioned pages may be found by clicking here.
      
But, since it is Tuesday, that means it must be tumblr —  and you may get there by clicking here —  but before you do,sit still and watch the leaves turn before they fall completely, before this November First becomes  Thanksgiving and Thanksgiving becomes Christmas (or Chanukah, or Kwanzaa), and Christmas becomes becomes New Year's and New Year's becomes Valentine's Day and Valentine's Day becomes Easter (or Passover), and Easter (or Passover) becomes Memorial Day, and Memorial Day becomes The Fourth of July, and The Fourth of July becomes Labor Day, and Labor Day becomes Halloween, and then it is November and you find yourself saying, where did its thirty days go?

AFTER YOU HAVE WATCHED THE LEAVES TURN AND HAVE TIME,  I'd like to hear your thoughts which you may share via the "comments field" below. If you are new to posting this type of thing, you may click here for directions.

Happy October!

Happy October! It's the month when the leaves on the trees will be changing colors (at least in the northeastern part of the United States where I live), the month featuring Oktoberfests, and the month that ends with Halloween, a holiday for which I have a designed unusual greeting cards. My cards for this occasion are very unique as they are a petite wraparound variety, which means that they fold out into a picture which is suitable for framing. 

These cards can be viewed on my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo Art. They are located within the card-shoppe pages that are a part of the storefront , and a link to take you there  directly, may be found by clicking here.

Another "holiday" which occurs in October is the feast day of  St. Thérèse de Lisieux, the saint who is often referred to as "The Little Flower", and "her day" is today, so I thought of her this morning, as I was in my urban terrace garden, where I was reflecting on the fact that I had moved into my apartment eighteen years ago today, and what a blessing it is for me to have a garden! (Although, as I have mentioned in a number of posts, including one which you may refer to by clicking here) I did not actually do much of anything with my outdoor space until the spring of 1999).

Standing outside in my garden, in the wee hours of this Saturday morning, when most of New York City is sleeping (even though it claims to be a city where no one sleeps), I noticed one of my Helichrysum bracteatum (Strawflowers), striking an odd pose —  just as it was beginning to awaken for the day — and it was an almost prayerful "pose" at that, as evidenced in the photograph which I took of it and posted below.

This prompted me to think of one of St. Thérèse de Lisieux's quotes which is “I understood that every flower created by Him is beautiful, that the brilliance of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not lessen the perfume of the violet or the sweet simplicity of the daisy. I understood that if all the lowly flowers wished to be roses, nature would no longer be enamelled with lovely hues. And so it is in the world of souls, Our lord's living garden.” 


I am sorry to say that I barely have even a fraction of the faith that St. Thérèse de Lisieux was known to possess; however, I am like her in that I appreciate and live by the sentiment expressed in her aforementioned quote. Her picture (seen at the right) hangs above my desk as a reminder to me of her quote. I have it positioned above a framed cartoon from the New Yorker (which I referred to in a blog entry this past January that you may refer to by clicking here) that has the caption, "I try to write a little everyday"  — yet another thing that I constantly need to be reminded to continue to do.


Of the two, St. Thérèse de Lisieux's quote is far more important, and when I find myself straying from it, I have the things that I grow in my terrace garden to remind me, including
my Cardinal Climber (which I have written about in a number of posts, including ones which you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here and here) and who "weighed" in this morning as seen in the image posted below.

The Echinacea that I have in my garden can be seen in images which are featured in a set in my Flickr gallery by clicking here, also weighed in this morning as seen in the image below.

My Echinacea, has been featured in a number of my blog entries, as you may recall, including ones that you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here; its shape is exquisite to me and after its petals are gone, its "pods" add a unique touch to floral arrangements — a fact I have mentioned on a number of occasions. The things which I grow in my garden bring to mind another quote from St. Thérèse de Lisieux, which is this: "May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith."   —  A nice way to start October! 


And, as always, dear reader, I appreciate when you weigh in with your comments, thoughts, ideas and reactions. If you are new to posting this type of thing, you may click here for directions.

. . . and so now we've got to say goodbye TO the summer . . .

The title ". . .  and so we've got to say goodbye TO the summer", for today's blog post, is not a misprint, for I am well aware of the Brian Hyland lyrics, to the "Bobby Vinton classic", Sealed With A Kiss, are, " . . . and so we've got to say goodbye FOR the summer"; however, since today is the second day of autumn and the last Saturday of September, it seems appropriate to put a spin on the lyrics.


Perhaps, my tendency to put a spin on lyrics comes from my departed father who often did this with a number of songs as discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here. His "spin" on Hyland's song was, ". . . and so we've got to say goodbye to the plumber."
In any event, we are at that time of year when summer has "officially" passed and autumn reigns. During the early days of autumn, summer attempts to still rule, at least in my urban terrace garden, as well as for other creatures such as those that "star" in Mutts. As many of my readers know I am a Mutts (the name of the comic strips included in today's blog entry) fan. This can be seen in previous posts by clicking here as well as here; and so, for me, it is only natural to include them, as I express a few thoughts on the transition from summer to fall on this second day of 2011's autumn. I see a relationship between the comic strip character posted directly above (the one wearing the inner tube) expressing that he feels "ridiculous" and the things' (which I grow in my terrace garden) attitude towards the seasonal transition. They seem — for the most part — to take life as it comes and are uninhibited by any "rules" of  the passing seasons. I don't think that they'd feel badly if they got caught wearing an inner tube after the autumn equinox , which occurred yesterday a little after five o'clock in the morning.

For example, my White Swan Echinacea, like CoCo Chanel, is not one to be dictated by the longstanding fashion rule of not wearing white after labor day (as mentioned in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here). Even now, though summer is "officially over", my White Swan Echinacea still continues to thrive in its container, enjoying life, wearing white as it pleases. This can be seen in the photograph posted below:

However, as you can see, dear reader, one of the members of the White Swan Echinacea family members has succumbed to the pressures of fall and has turned an amber and brown color as seen in the image posted above and below. I hope it did not feel "ridiculous" as my "friend" in the Mutts comic strip did when caught with a beach ball after autumn began!

The pressure to give up the inner-tube-phenomenon is not only with my White Swan Echinacea, but it is happening with some of the other things which I grow in my terrace garden. My Salvia offcinalis (Tri-Colour Sage), and Cardinal Climber pictured respectively below are slowly beginning to change their summer colors for autumn hues,and my mentioning the latter reminds me that I should harvest it soon, since its culinary use is prime at this moment.

The leaves of my Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush), pictured below

are changing from pale pink tips to golden. It is fascinating to behold, the Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush)'s response to the seasons. You may recall, dear reader, that this magnificent shrub is the subject for one of my unique single-sided petite greeting cards titled Grace (Smoke Bush) which is included in the store-front of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo Art.


You may also recall that I am currently offering complimentary boxed sets of my greeting cards for any referral that brings me a booking of virtual stories or visual presentations, a new service offered by yours truly which you may refer to in my on-line brochure. The aforementioned complimentary offer was mentioned in previous posts which you may refer to by clicking here and here.


In the meantime, please keep in mind, that today's blog title stating, " . . . and so we've got to say goodbye TO the  summer" is by no means intended as a rule; but rather a "resolution" which happens at the changing of seasons whether you are an herb, flower, plant, vine, shrub, tree, a human being, or a cartoon character. Then again, not everyone, especially yours truly can accept the inevitable; even Mutts finds it difficult to do as seen in the comic strip posted below.

That's it for now, but, as always, dear reader, I appreciate it when you weigh in with your comments, thoughts, ideas and reactions. If you are new to posting this type of thing, you may click here for directions.

"Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams." — Elizabeth Barrett Browning

September is passing quickly. Labor Day, the "unofficial" end of summer, and a day, among other things signifying the time that one is "supposed to stop wearing white" (until Memorial Day of the following year as I discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here) was ten days ago.

In the Northern Hemisphere, the Autumn Equinox will take place next week on Friday, September 23rd 2011 at 4:05 in the morning, and even though the Autumn Equinox (marking the "official" end of summer) is eight days away, the sun is already rising later now, and nightfall comes upon us sooner and sooner with each passing day. It is a time in many gardens — urban (like that of yours truly) and otherwise — in which many things are past their grandeur, but, in spite of this, an impressive, twining vine with a sensuous scent is in its glory, and its splendor is truly a signal that summer is passing, and that Autumn is barreling down on us.
That vine is my Autumn Clematis, or Sweet Autumn Clematis (the vine's full name) as I should be calling it since it gets its name from its seductive (and not the least bit over-powering) scent. I should also note that it is "sweet" because of its delicate, small, star-shaped blossoms, which are white (as evidenced in the photograph at the top of today's blog entry).

Since the Sweet Autumn Clematis is a fall blooming vine, it pays no attention to fashion rules by wearing white after Labor Day (as I indicated in the aforementioned blog entry). In fact, it boasts hundreds and hundreds of delicate white flowers, as evidenced in the photographs below,

which were taken yesterday as well as today in my terrace garden, where my Sweet Autumn Clematis is thriving, as it playfully hops on trivets, which were placed on my wall in May of 2010 by Juan V — a fact that was discussed in previous blog entries including ones which you may refer to by clicking here and here; and my Sweet Autumn Clematis is included in my first garden themed movie, The Kiwi Speaks! Fifteen Minutes of Fame . . . almost. This movie was discussed in a blog entry which you may refer to by clicking here, and also, it is now on Vimeo at the following link (please click here).

However, while the "Sweet Autumn Clematis is thriving, as it playfully hops on trivets";  it must be doing so in spite of what could easily be melancholy feelings.  After all, the Sweet Autumn Clematis's entrance is aways synonymous with things in the garden dying back (although, thankfully, in the case of my garden that is not happening yet); and, moreover, since my Sweet Autumn Clematis is a perennial, it  has had to cope with seeing certain annuals pass away knowing they will not return again.

My Ipomocea multifida AKA Cardinal Climber will presumably be one of those passing annuals since its "stats" claim it will not make it through winter (but depending on the harshness of winter, it may stick around for another season). In any event, these vines, the Sweet Autumn Clematis and the Cardinal Climber, at the moment are keeping each other company as they thrive in their respective spots: the Sweet Autumn Clematis doing so on the trivets which Juan V installed, and the Cardinal Climber, doing so on the trellis which Juan V built as evidenced by photographs of the Cardinal Climber which are posted below.

My Cardinal Climber's roots are planted in pots attached to a trellis located in the middle of the west portion of my terrace, while my Sweet Autumn Clematis's roots  make their home in a container in the southeast corner of my terrace garden. The path of my Sweet Autumn Clematis has usually been to travel straight up the trivets on my wall and to head east, while the path of my Cardinal Climber thus far has been to climb up the trellis and to head to both the south and north corners of my garden.

Both yesterday and today, I noticed that a portion of my Cardinal Climber seemed to be heading towards my Sweet Autumn Clematis, as if it wants to say goodbye; and I photographed the Cardinal Climber's fern-like leaves reaching out to the leaves of my Sweet Autumn Clematis (which I've posted below in an image that includes the bulbs from my string lights to give you a sense of scale in imaging the size of both my Cardinal Climber's leaves as well as my Sweet Autumn Clematis's buds and flowers),

as if to say — quoting Elizabeth Barrett Browning — "Gaze up at the stars knowing that I see the same sky and wish the same sweet dreams." 

Nyctinasty: A Flower's Moment of Silence

Because my last posting to this blog commemorated September the Eleventh, it seems disrespectful on some levels to forge ahead (in terms of today's entry), without making some type of segue. Since this is the second Tuesday of September, which is when the attacks took place ten years ago, it seems, on some levels, more of an anniversary of the terrorist attacks than this past Sunday (which was the actual date, and of course, is when the various Memorial Ceremonies to honor those who died in the terrorists' attacks took place). 

Perhaps I find myself thinking this way because Sundays and Tuesdays are very different days in Lower Manhattan: on most Sundays it's nearly a ghost-town, while on Tuesdays, especially in the morning hours (the time of day that the planes flew into the World Trade Center), the area is bustling with thousands of people hurrying to work, school, or other obligations. Therefore, this past Sunday when the Memorial Ceremony occurred in Lower Manhattan, while it was a day set aside for solemn remembrance — as it should be — it might have been hard for those who are not from the New York City area to have a sense of the effect that the September the Eleventh had on those who were not working at the World Trade Center, but who by way of their daily routine witnessed the horror: the ones who worked in areas surrounding the World Trade Center, or who went to school near there, or who were there for other obligations. They were also deeply affected upon seeing the devastation and witnessing persons jumping out of the burning Twin Towers.

Moreover, the atmosphere was busier than usual that fateful morning, because on September 11th 2001, the Democratic Primaries (for the office of mayor) were taking place; and many folks were up even earlier than usual to vote before heading off to their respective agendas for the day.

Others, like Natalie B, my confirmation sponsor's wife, were frantically taking care of their personal tragedies. Although Natalie B lives in the Upper West Side of Manhattan (a good distance from Lower Manhattan), she was very much affected by the events that took place on that somber morning. In Natalie's case, she had received word that her husband (who had been in the hospital for several weeks prior) had taken a turn for the worst and was in the last hours of his life; so she needed to get to the hospital quickly. The hospital where her husband was staying is located on the East Side of Manhattan; and Natalie lives on the West Side of Manhattan. When the call came from the hospital, informing Natalie (who was in her late seventies at the time) of her husband's imminent death, she had been listening to the coverage of the planes flying into the Twin Towers, but details of the full extent of what was happening were not yet available, so she was shocked when she went outside of her apartment to "grab a cab" to go to the hospital, to find that there were no available taxis. Hence, there she stood amongst the honking of car horns; sirens from ambulances that raced by her; and the scurrying of pedestrians all babbling excitedly as they wondered if a third world war was upon us. Some wondering aloud if the world coming to an end. The only thing that Natalie knew at that moment, was that her world, as she had known it in over fifty years of marriage, was coming to an end. Her husband had been given last rites and she did not know if she could get crosstown to see him one last time! That is when Natalie experienced a New-York-kindess-of-strangers-moment: someone allowed Natalie to get in their cab — even though it was headed another way — and so she was able to get to the hospital to be with her husband as he  ultimately "joined" those who died on September 11th 2001, that second Tuesday of the month of September.

Natalie's story is one you don't hear in the coverage of the reading of the names of those who lost their lives on that fateful day, and it is one you don't hear in the poignant accounts of the hundreds and hundreds of children who lost a parent, but Natalie's story, and others like hers, are important too. And, so, in light of the aforementioned narrative, I'd like to request moments of silence for others who, like Natalie, lost someone on that day, because their private mourning of their individual loss may have taken a "back burner" in light of the events of that fateful day. 

Additionally, I know people including Ana D, Andrew J, Terry M, as well as Patricia Ruggiero, the secretary of Saint Peter's — the church which "housed" Father Mychal Judge's broken body — who were all working in Lower Manhattan on the morning of the attacks and, therefore, witnessed both the burning buildings and the people jumping from them. It must be difficult for them, and the hundreds and hundreds of people like them who witnessed this to get those horrific images out of their mind — even after all this time has passed. These folks are not included in the ceremonies; and I realize for security measures there must be a limit, but they still need moments of silence in their honor too. Moments of silence are something that provide great value; and even the flowers that I grow in my urban terrace garden seem to realize it.

   

For example, the normally — dare I say it  — perky flower, from my Ipomocea sloteri AKA Cardinal Climber Vine, (a vine mentioned in a few of my previous blog entries which you may refer to by clicking here and here as well as here and here)  knows the value of quiet time.

In the early evening hours — when it is still only dusk in New York City, "the city that never sleeps", and folks are enjoying their cocktails on their terraces — my Cardinal Climber is nodding off for the night, from where it lives on a trellis in my urban terrace garden (as evidenced in the photographs posted below).

The "process" of flowers closing up at dusk and into the night is called nyctinasty. When I was new to gardening, and did not know what was happening, I was horrified to see flowers close up because I thought that they were dying!  Later, as I had more experience gardening I was no longer horrified to see my flowers close up, as evidenced by my taking the opportunity for a photo-op which can be seen in the photographs of my "slumbering" Cardinal Climber, that are posted below.

I appreciate your indulging me by allowing me to share so many images, as my doing so borders on a parent or grandparent showing pictures of their little ones in play by play format. Still my Cardinal Climbers are awful cute, don't you think?

However, besides their being cute, their habit of shutting down, or giving into nyctinasty, is an illustration of what flowers can teach us humans about life, and of  the upmost importance in having moments of silence. May God be with you, dear reader, in your moments of silence as you perhaps pause to remember losses that don't make it to the media's coverage; and I by no means intend to show disrespect to those losses that do receive recognition; for loss is painful, both spoken and unspoken.

And with these thoughts, dear reader, I will return to my regularly scheduled programing of blog topics, on Thursday, September 15th 2011, my next scheduled date to post.

REPRISE: "Love thy neighbor — but don't pull down your hedge."

The photograph posted above shows my Cardinal Climber AKA Ipomocea  multifida or "CC" thoroughly enjoying its somewhat new (six weeks) digs in my urban terrace garden. As you may recall, the Cardinal Climber was a gift from a friend, who gave me some CC Plants near the onset of the last week of July.
The photograph used to announce their arrival in my urban terrace garden can be seen below.

You may recognize this image, dear reader, because it was also included with the narrative (blog post) of the Cardinal Climber's arrival. I have included it again today to emphasize just how quickly the Cardinal Climber grows, in the event that you, or someone near and dear to you, needs a quick fix in your respective gardens.
I am not normally one who likes a quick fix — I stand corrected — I am no longer one who craves quick fixes (in the garden at least; my "other life" is another story), but, when I was given the Cardinal Climber, it was another effort to fill in my pain from having lost my beloved Honeysuckle Vine to man-made elements — and to fill in my trellis, so I could have privacy from voyeur neighbors, neighbors which I mentioned in a post titled, Love thy neighbor . . . but don't pull your hedge), as mentioned in a prior entry which you may refer to by clicking here.


In any event, whether it crawls up a trellis and gives you privacy or not, many garden lovers appreciate the small, bright crimson-colored flowers of the Cardinal Climber, because of the way they look against the green fern-like foliage, and that is why I am sharing my experiences with it with you. While I have not planted annual vines for quite some time, the Cardinal Climber is a joy to behold; and makes a great photo-op, as evidenced by the images posted below.

Smiling Faces

Some folks say as opposed to tending a garden, if it came down to a choice, they'd rather have a cat or dog, whose cute face would be there to greet them when they came home. All I can say to those folks is this: Who says herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs and trees don't greet you with a cute face? For example, just look at the face of the first flower produced by the new-comer to my garden, the Cardinal Climber vine (shown in the photograph posted above.)




This vine, as you may recall, dear reader was planted by Juan V —  just a week ago — which was discussed in blog entries that you may refer to by clicking here and here.

Friday Follow-Up

The radio announcer says it's 108 degrees at Newark Airport and 104 degrees in Central Park (which is less than a block from where I live and have a terrace garden in New York City) this afternoon, and since the thermometer in my terrace garden only registers 101 degrees, I am extremely thankful to report that the things that I grow in my terrace garden including herbs, plants, flowers, vines, shrubs, and trees — over sixty in total — are faring well with my hand watering (an activity that I have discussed in blog postings, including ones which you may refer to by clicking here and here). 




Today I am mainly following up on the planting of my "newcomer vine", the Cardinal Climber (Ipomea sloteri), as I promised I would in yesterday's blog entry.




Juan V and I did our work fairly early in the morning in an effort to beat the heat, however, we were not finished until a little before 9:00 A.M. An overview of what my terrace garden looked like after the work was finished can be seen in an aerial photograph which Juan V took for me and that I have posted below.

If you zoom in on the photograph, or squint enough, you will be able to see two of the three clay pots (below the bamboo trellis) that are now filled with the Cardinal Climber, the third is off camera (and has its own trellis) but is indeed standing in the most southwest corner of my terrace garden.

The Cardinal Climber, as I said yesterday, has done well in my garden in the past, so I have reason to believe that it will flourish once again, and therefore it will surely provide me with the much-needed privacy that I need from the gawking tourist-neighbors, a situation that I wrote about in a previous post, Love thy Neighbor, but, Don't Pull Down Your Hedge, which you may refer to by clicking here.




In any event, to avoid your zooming and squinting, dear reader, I have posted some photographs from it below, as it looked after yesterdays garden tending.

Above: The "Main Part" of the Trellis with pots filled with Cardinal Climber eager to hop on it and form my urban hedge.

Above: The normally camera-shy (It's off camera in aerial views.) portion of my trellis with a "lone" clay pot filled with Cardinal Climber.

Above: Cardinal Climber's leaves mug for the camera. They know they are just as awesome as the brilliant, red flowers that the vine will ultimately produce.

Above: My Cardinal Climbers  are already hopping on the orange rail which surrounds my terrace garden as well as the trellis, as if they were children on monkey-bars.




It looks as if my Cardinal Climber doesn't mind the heat, but then again, how hot is it? Well.... it's so hot, that yours truly, actually turned down a glass of Quincy, the Domaine de la Commanderie white vino, which, according to its maker, is a vino that "one drinks it young and fresh (10-14 degrees C) between friends." 




AND, Also, it's so hot, that, a restaurant, Harry's Burritos, located in my (what can be) expensive UWS (Upper Westside) New York City neighborhood, offered free, yes, free, water to passers by as evidenced by the photographic collage posted below.