"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.

Raindrops on 'Grace' Leaves . . . .

The leaves of my Continus Coggygria AKA 'Smokey Bush', 'Royal Purple' or 'Grace' have been glistening with the rain drops from the Autumn rain; as evidenced in the photographs within today's blog entry, which were taken between the second and third week of this October in my urban (New York City) terrace garden, where I have had my Continus Coggygria for at least five years.



'Grace's' leaves are always beautiful, but, I find them even more exquisite when they are playing host to raindrops, and allowing them to rest on their surface. This wonderful shrub not only produces amazing flowers in the springtime, but the colors of its leaves are constantly changing. For example, in the month of October, this shrub boasts an array of colors on its awesomely textured branches, and, with the rain-kissed leaves it is a very inspirational sight to behold.

Thankfully, seeing the rain on these leaves has not caused me to run around my garden singing, "Raindrops on Grace leaves" and providing a spin-off to the lyrics "Raindrops on Roses" from the song, My Favorite Things which was popularized in the 1965 movie, The Sound of Music, and I must confess, as un-American, as it may seem, is not one of my favorite things. However, my reasons for this, as they say, are another story . . . 


Meanwhile, the spinning-off lyrics is what it's called when you put a "take" on well known lyrics by substituting your own words. For me, this is an easy habit to fall into, most likely because my father was prone to doing this (as I discussed in a previous post which you may refer to by clicking here). 


However, I never heard my father put a spin on the lyrics from My Favorite Things, but, if he had, it would've most likely been in "agreement" with the opinion of the actor, Christopher Plummer (who played the patriarch in the movie), when he feared the movie, The Sound of Music would be thought of as The Sound of Mucus, as he recently (2010) admitted, in an Oprah television segment, which you may read about by clicking here. 

Putting a spin on lyrics can be creative and fun but having a song or lyrics get stuck in your head can be annoying. The "condition" associated with this syndrome is known as ohrwurms (earworms). In an article by Stephanie Watson (which you may read in full by clicking here), the condition known as ohrwurms or earworms "is what can come about when we listen to a song, it triggers a part of the brain called the auditory cortex. Researchers at Dartmouth University found that when they played part of a familiar song to research subjects, the participants' auditory cortex automatically filled in the rest -- in other words, their brains kept "singing" long after the song had ended . . . the only way to 'scratch' brain itch is to repeat the song over and over in your mind. Unfortunately, like with mosquito bites, the more you scratch the more you itch, and so on until you're stuck in an unending song cycle."

Hopefully, my association with the lyrics, "raindrops on roses", will remain at bay, and I will not finding myself humming a tune associated with a movie that brings up bad memories when I notice the raindrops on 'Grace's' leaves, for I certainly have  been blessed with the opportunity to capture many images thus far, and if you would like to view other photographs of her, please visit the set titled AUTUMN LEAVES in my Flickr Gallery by clicking here. 


Meanwhile, please note that 'Grace' has posed (not seen in today's blog entry nor is it included in the aforementioned set on Flickr) for an image which I've subsequently used for an all occasion greeting card that I have designed. This card is perfect to send when you want your correspondence with those near and dear to you to go beyond communication. I have titled the card, 'Grace" (Smokey Bush) and it is available within the Card Shoppe Pages of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo Art or you can go to the specific page by clicking here.


That's it for today dear reader, and as always, I appreciate it when you weigh in with your thoughts, ideas and reactions. If you are new to posting this type of thing, you may click here for directions. ALSO (apropos of nothing in today's blog entry), if you have been preoccupied with ohrwurms, or anything else for that matter, and still have not had a chance to get Halloween cards — you only have ten days to go — including today — please click here to view my selections of delightful greeting cards to honor the festivities.

. . . 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.

They're baaaaaaaaack . . .

When I wrote yesterday's blog entry, the sun was not up, and I had not taken a detailed look at my terrace garden to assess how it fared during Hurricane Irene, but I indicated in that post that it appeared all was well. Upon checking out the situation in my garden (after publishing yesterdays post), I was extremely thankful to see that all the things which I grow in my urban garden were unscathed. Of course, I had to remove small branches which had fallen from neighboring trees, and move everything back into place that I had switched around to prepare for Irene's predicted wrath, but my clean-up paled in comparison to many folks, who suffered damages as a result of this past weekend's hurricane.


Something that did thrive in my garden (as you might have surmised from the photographs at the top of today's blog entry), was the "return" of mushrooms, which are a thing that, once upon a time, I found to be an eyesore, as I indicated in a previous post.
They once again popped up in the container which "houses" my Continus Coggygria AKA Smokey Bush (seen in the first image) as they had done before, but they also appeared in the container which is the home to my first Paeonia suffruiticosa AKA Tree Peony (seen in the second image), a shrub that I have discussed in many blog posts which you may refer to by going to the labels menu on my blog (to the left of all blog entries) and clicking on the selection designated as Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony). Additionally, over three dozen  images of this lovely shrub are featured on Flickr as indicated by the thumbnails posted below, and which may view in larger sizes by going to this link.

But what about the mushrooms? What are you going to do about those? These are questions you may be asking, given that I've mentioned their return at the beginning of today's blog post. For that answer, I turn once again to Michael Kuo, the man I referred to in my blog entry regarding the first appearance of mushrooms. Here is what he had to say in answer to those who find mushrooms invasive, as I once did:


"No; your yard  (urban terrace-container garden in my case) is the invasive. Your grasses, flowers, vegetable plants, and ornamental trees are anything but natural to your area. In short, you have taken a big chunk of an ecosystem and deliberately destroyed it, planting not only your house, but invasive species everywhere. I don't mean to be confrontational here--and I do own a home with a yard full of non-native organisms. But we should be honest about what's going on, rather than pretending that our artificially created environments are 'natural,' while the weeds and mushrooms are 'invasive.'


"If your mushroom is actually a species that does not belong in your area, it is probably only there because it is attending to something non-native that you put there. Your mulch may be cypress mulch. Do cypress trees grow in your area? Woodchips and mulch from Home Depot or Wal-Mart come from who knows where, and they are often accompanied by invisible mycelia . . .  Now stop for a moment to think about how ironic it is that we often create woodchip trails through our forest preserves in an effort to keep people from tramping through the woods and harming the ecosystem!"


Last week, after I read Kuo's opinions regarding mushrooms and invasiveness, I felt somewhat humbled as I have thought of myself as being sensitive to how the human race invades the environment of nature. Kuo's points about mushrooms and invasiveness were not lost on me. In fact, his attitude reminded me of a recent article about the so-called invasive geese in Prospect Park which is in the borough of Brooklyn in New York City, where there is an on-going brutal battle about whether to get rid of the "invasive" geese (by killing them) or allow them to be in the park unharmed by humans. The article, Fowl Thoughts (which appeared in April 2011 in New York magazine and can be referred to by clicking here), includes a statement, made by Mary Beth Artz, an "unofficial" spokeswoman for geese's rights. Artz's statement was in response to the issue raised by those who are "anti-geese" who are concerned about the presence of unsightly poop throughout the park making the atmosphere unpleasant as a result of the presence of geese. Artz apparently said, "No, its not pleasant to look at. That doesn't mean we should kill them."


And while I would not appreciate geese droppings in my garden or neighborhood, I don't think killing the bird is the answer either. In 2009, when geese flew into the airspace of Flight 1549, forcing  its captain ("Sully") to land in the Hudson River, some of the aftermath talk raised this question: Do geese invade the air space or do humans invade their space; after all, whose birthright comes with the ability to fly?


The answers to the question regarding geese and just whom is invading whom and the answer to gardeners and mushrooms regarding "invasion" is a debate that will go on long after I have left this world. For now, as for me and my mushrooms, I'll let them be. They can duke it out with my herbs, vines, flowers, plants, shrubs and trees – unless they bring real harm to them.


Meanwhile I'll mind my own business on the issue of mushrooms in my terrace garden and focus on the things that are under control in my lovely urban garden, such as completing my Name Tag Project , an endeavor I introduced a couple of weeks ago and one that I have made progress in completing as discussed in other blog entries, including ones you may refer to by clicking here and here. As of yesterday, I have photographed twelve more of the things which I grow in my terrace garden and posted them to Flickr as evidenced by the thumbnails posted below.

Now, I only have eighteen more name tags to add and ultimately photograph for Flickr, but for now I have a good excuse for my delay (as I  will not meet my self-imposed August 31, 2011 deadline) and that is this: Jennie has not finished writing them but plans to by next week. Her handwriting is awesome and it is well worth the wait.


In the meantime, dear reader, I realize I have shown you photographs (within the aforementioned "name-tag-related" blog posts as well as within images on Flickr) of the classy name tags, but perhaps seeing one next to a mushroom (as it appears in the photograph which includes yellow arrows pointing to name tags that are within the containers of two different things). This will give you a sense of the name tag's size.

Upon your having read my entry, dear reader, I am interested in you weighting in with your thoughts and ideas on the "so-called" invasiveness of mushrooms, geese or anything else for that matter.

Mushroom Madness

This past Sunday, August 20th 2011, as I prepared my blog entry for this Tuesday's publication, rain — severe rain — with thunderstorms was predicted. That weather report caused me to think back to the prior Sunday's (August 14th) torrents of rain.

While Texas remained under a severe drought, on Sunday, August 14th of 2011, the amount of rainfall in New York City set a record. According to radio reports, newspapers, and countless Internet materials, including one found at this link, "New York's Kennedy Airport received 7.8" of rain, its soggiest day since records began in 1948. Its single-day rainfall output was about twice its average monthly total."  As a result of this immense rainfall, there were "scattered power outages and transit disruptions. Cars got caught in flash floods, and the Long Island Railroad reported localized flooding and trees on the tracks, delaying several dozen trains....in the subways, water flooded into the tunnels, knocking out seven lines of power . . . "

Besides the rhetoric, newspapers were, if you will excuse the pun, flooded with images of this occurance. Many of these images are available to see via Flickr or general Google searches; so, dear reader, if you are interested, I will leave finding them up to you, rather than me hand-picking some, and then pointing you to the links to see them. Not that I mind doing this, but I think that reading the aforementioned fact about "cars getting caught in flash floods" will leave you with a mental picture of just how much rainfall we had in New York City.

The only photograph which I took of my terrace garden on that rain-filled day is one of a tiny watering can (obviously not one that I use to water my garden) that rests on the the second of three bamboo shelves which are attached to my terrace railing by copper-wire to provide me with an "urban hedge".  (The EXIF info on this photograph tells me it was taken at 16:57:13; which, from my military time conversion, means I took it a little after 4:57 P.M. — most likely the only small window of time on that Sunday in which rainfall was not occurring, as I am not camera savvy enough to shoot pictures in the rain.)




The first  bamboo shelf of of these "urban hedge" can be seen in the photograph below.

This photograph was not taken during the rainstorm, but has been included in this blog entry to give you an idea of what I mean by my "urban hedge" of bamboo shelving. These shelves serve as one of my "urban hedges" — giving me privacy from voyeur neighbors as discussed in a few previous posts, including ones which you may refer to by clicking here and here. These particular bamboo shelves are located at the extreme southwest corner of my garden, which means they are to the immediate left of the door that leads from my apartment to my terrace garden, and therefore I did not have to venture very far into my garden to take either of the photographs of my bamboo shelving. An orange arrow has been added to the image directly above, to show you, dear reader, just how close the neighbor's window is to my urban garden.




However, the point of today's blog entry is not solely dedicated to "urban hedges"  or to sensationalizing August 14th's rainfall, rather it is to shed light on the prevailing belief that the things which urban gardeners — or at least ones with container gardens — grow truly thrive as a result of such downpours. At times of heavy rainfall, many folks — as most of them know that I hand-water over sixty things that grow in my terrace garden — always say to me, "well at least you don't have to water . . . "




And with that assumption, I want to clarify something that I may have alluded to in a blog entry, in which I discussed hand-watering my terrace garden. First of all, rain does not always fall into the many containers that "house" the herbs, plants, flowers, vines, shrubs, and trees which I have in my terrace garden, so at times, even in heavy rainfall, I still have to water it. Secondly, if the rainfall is heavy enough to do damage to subway systems, think what it can do to the root systems of things living in garden containers. A number of years ago it rained every day in the month of June, and a few of my shrubs that I had successfully wintered over, and that had thrived beautifully for part of that spring season, succumbed to mold and mildew brought on by their roots being unable to dry out. Since mold and mildew can spread, I had to get rid of the afflicted shrubs, and replace them with other things.




Hence, the type of rain New York City experienced on Sunday, August 14th, because it was followed by heavy rain on Monday the 15th, Wednesday the 17th, Thursday the 18th, had the potential of endangering some of the things which I grow in my terrace garden; but as you can see by the photograph posted below (which was taken by Juan V on Thursday the 18th), fortunately that was not the case.

The things that grow in my terrace garden – so far — do not seem to be in danger of mold or mildew, which is a good sign, especially since it has continued to rain after Juan V took the photograph.




Unfortunately, another problem has come up in my urban terrace garden as a result of so much rainfall: Since the days following the time that Juan V took the aerial photograph of my urban garden, it has rained heavily again, and that rain, or rather my herbs, vines, flowers, plants, shrubs and tree's inability to dry out from that rain, has caused unsightly (in my humble opinion) mushrooms to make their home in the container which houses my Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush) as seen in the photographs posted below.

I use the term "humble opinion" in conjunction with my observation that mushroom are "unsightly" because when I saw them on Sunday morning, August 21st, their sudden appearance nearly gagged me; and it sent me straight to Google for answers, where I came upon a mushroom lover's web-site by someone named Michael Kuo which you may refer to by clicking here.




Before I go any further, I will confess that this is not the first time I saw a mushroom in my urban garden, I did see a "lone" mushroom "hidden" beneath the delicate foliage of my Thom-Thumb shrub, but I dug it out immediately —  out of a reflex reaction — rather than photographing it. A few days later, I spotted a mushroom growing in my Creeping Phlox, and this time, I took a photograph, (posted below), and then I pulled the mushroom out!

Unlike Mr. Kuo, I do not appreciate their presence, and upon reading what he has to say about getting rid of them, I am quite discouraged. Here is what Kuo has to say about removal of mushrooms:"Mushrooms are roughly comparable to apples on apple trees; they are the fruiting body the organism creates when it wants to reproduce. The apple tree's "plan" (I know; I'm giving human thoughts to trees and mushrooms, but it's the easiest way to talk about this) is to put its seeds in a nice, plump morsel that will fall to the ground and attract a hungry animal who will then, um, pass the seeds to new territory for germination and a new apple tree."




Mr. Kuo continues, "Mushrooms have similar plans. Their seeds (microscopic things called spores) cover parts of the mushrooms; one of the best ways to understand mushrooms is to think of them as 'spore factories'. The entire structure is an excuse to get spores out into the world . . . the 'real' organism – the part that corresponds to the apple tree, rather than the apple — is called a mycelium (pronounced so it rhymes with 'my helium'), and is found in the mushroom's substrate: the ground, leaves, a log, woodchips, and so on. It is a mesh of tiny threadlike cells that plow through the substrate, consuming nutrients . . . "




"Now it should be obvious why you can't get rid of your mushrooms; you would have to get rid of the mycelium rather than the mushrooms. If you have been picking or stomping on your mushrooms to make them disappear, you might as well have picked every apple in an orchard , trying to make the trees go away."




"HUH?," says yours truly to the blinking monitor.




"You would need to remove all the soil and natural debris in your yard or garden, and replace it with something inorganic like concrete or plastic — in which case you would 'probably' be mushroom free. I say 'probably' because Pisolithus tinctorius, Scleroderma, and other mushrooms might still erupt through your concrete."




And I thought bamboo shelving would shield me from unsightly things! The blinking monitor hears me wince!




"What I haven't mentioned yet is your mushroom is an integral part of your yard or garden's ecosystem. Its mycelium is probably doing one of two things, either which is crucial to the health of your yard."




But, I have a container garden!




"  . . . mushrooms are involved in a symbiotic relationship with plants and trees. The plant's rootlets are surrounded and protected by the mushroom's mycelium which help the plant absorb water and nutrients . . . "




Not convinced that their value is worth the eye-sore!

I will concede that I am willing to consider Mr. Kuo's view, because, after all, anyone who presents their argument by "giving human thoughts to trees and mushrooms" has a way of winning my heart, for as you know, if you follow this blog, there have been a number of occasions when one of my plants, flowers, shrubs or trees have expressed themselves by authoring blog entries. My Paeonia Suffruiticosa's (Tree Peony) self-expression is here, my Tulips "two-cents" can be found here and here; my Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina) views are here, my Roses weighed in here; while my Helichrysum bracteatum (Strawflowers), took the helm here.




Moreover, my Actinida kolomikta and Actimida (Kiwi Vines) were cast — although my Actinida kolomikta did all the talking — as narrators of my first garden movie, The Kiwi Speaks! Fifteen Minutes of Fame . . .  almost; which is now on Vimeo, and is accessible at this link.




And, not to be on done, my Hens and Chicks insisted on giving a thumbs up to a colleague of mine (which you can see at this link), while my Echinacea and Tropaelum majus (Nasturtium) insisted their placement in my Flickr Galleries be announced by them. They made their announcements in these respective links (here and here).




I am still not too pleased to have unsightly mushrooms invading my Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush) and my Creeping Phlox, but if it doesn't bother them, I'll try to take the same attitude and let things take their course. Besides, once upon a time, I thought mushrooms were cute, well, at least ceramic ones, such as the variety yours truly is sitting on in the photograph posted below. The picture was taken on my fifth birthday, at Santa's Village, a place that was filled with amusement, and mushrooms (the purple double-sided  arrow on the photograph is pointing to two of the many) and now, as I celebrate my (ahem) birthday tomorrow, I will make a wish to be childlike and not childish about mushrooms.

Good Saint Anne, July's Rain IS your Dowry . . .

Today, July 26th in the Western Calendar is the feast day of Saint Anne (her feast day is July 27th in the Eastern Calendar), a feast day that she shares with her husband Joachim. The image posted above today's blog entry is a screen shot of a pencil sketch of the beloved saint, titled Saint Anne after Leonardo Da Vinici , by an artist who calls herself Trish. (For information on this image or to view other works by the artist, please click here).


Saint Anne is the mother of the Virgin Mary, and grandmother of Jesus Christ, according to Christian religions; however, her name is not mentioned in the canonical gospels. Among other things, Saint Anne is the patron saint of "childless couples", giving them "special aid in obtaining children", and, perhaps, she was instrumental in my sister and her husband's successful adoption of two Russian children, whose voices I "showcased" in a blog entry that I made about the use of "voice cards", which I made this past January (that you may hear by clicking on this link). Their adoption came through after much bureaucracy and heartbreak, which were both preceded by several futile years of unsuccessful in-vitro fertilization treatments.
My knowledge of Saint Anne is not nearly what it should be, given that Bella, the woman whom I have done volunteer work with for nearly eight years, had a sister whom was named for Saint Anne. Bella's sister died nearly eight years ago after a battle with pancreatic cancer, but for many years prior to her death, she did the volunteer work which I now do.

However, even though I do not know as much about Saint Anne as I should, I am aware that prayers seeking her intercession often begin with the salutation, "Good Saint Anne . . . ";  and I have also been (on a few occasions all of which were quite some time ago) to The Shrine of Saint Anne, located inside a Catholic church known as St. Jean Baptiste Church , which is on the Upper East-Side of New York City. In the month of July, every year — for the past 119 years — beginning on the Sunday of the week prior to Saint Anne's feast day, folks come  to St. Jean's, "in the fervor of their prayer", from all over the world to participate in a novena dedicated to Saint Anne. This year's novena to Saint Anne, began on July 17th 2011, and it will end this evening, after many events throughout this day. The schedule for these can be found in the aforementioned link associated with St. Jean Baptiste Church.


I have recently read that Saint Anne, because, she is associated with fertility, has had her patronage extended to soil, and I was surprised to see the number of places on-line that offer Saint Anne soil, as well as Saint Anne soil treatments, although I have never seen these products in any of New York City's urban gardening centers — including ones located in the famed flower district. However, as an urban gardener, my learning of Saint Anne's "relationship" to soil, is of interest to me. Soil, as you can imagine, dear reader, is of critical importance in any garden, but it is especially important in a container garden, such as the type of garden owned and tended to by yours truly. Basic garden soil compacts really hard; therefore, water does not get through the roots properly. Since potting mix is compact, water penetrates more easily, which is crucial to me, for, as you may recall from previous posts (including one which you may read by clicking here), I water my garden by hand.


In any event, all bags of soil are cumbersome and heavy. Consequently, getting soil to my home via the New York City buses or subways (or often on foot), is no mean feat, and it is one similar to how I've described my bringing various containers, as well as my herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs, and trees, into my garden, in a blog entry that I made this past June, which you may refer to by clicking here. As I have done with both the things I grow in my garden, and the containers in which I place them, each bag of the soil I use is carried by yours truly up seventy stairs to my studio apartment where I have my terrace garden. Therefore, by my having filled over sixty-containers with potting soil, you can imagine that I got quite a work-out, but I am by no means complaining; what I glean from my herbs, vines, plants, flowers, shrubs and trees is worth every bit of effort. 


Moreover, transporting is part of the deal in having a roof extension terrace garden like mine. Once upon a time, I met a woman who lived in a loft apartment on Sixth Avenue. Her apartment was very spacious, but, like mine, it was a walk-up. The woman was a cyclist, and hence she carried her bike up and down the stairs every time she wanted to cycle. "It's part of the exercise," she said to me when I questioned her about how she felt about schlepping her bike up and down the stairs. During the years that I was acquainted with her, I did not have a garden, but now that I do, I think of her statement from time to time — especially when I bring heavy bags of soil, large containers, or even my larger shrubs and trees, up my stairs — but for the most part, I don't think about what I have carried. I am too absorbed in the beauty of the things that I grow to think of any "struggle" involved in my endeavor. Upon reflection on this morning's feast day, I am beginning to think that maybe even without my invoking Saint Anne's intercession in my gardening efforts she has been helping along.


Meanwhile, it is my understanding that Saint Anne's influence on gardens is so powerful that "in Italy, rain is Saint Annes gift", and in Germany, "July rain is Saint Anne's dowry", I am not sure if either association is true, or web-hearsay. However, I do recall that when I was in Italy short-durationed downpours of rain occurred almost daily during my vacation; and while rain is not often welcome when one is traveling, having seen the beautiful natural surroundings of the country causes me to realize why Italians might attribute rain as "Saint Anne's gift."


As for Germany's alleged take on July rain, and calling it Saint Anne's dowry, I had a similar feeling about the rain when it fell in New York  City yesterday — on the eve of Saint Anne's feast day —  the rain, much needed, broke the oppressive heat wave that has blanketed New York for the past several days — a condition I have referred to in recent blog entries which you may refer to by clicking here as well as here and here.


Often New York City Summer rain leaves the city even hotter than it was prior to the rain, but yesterday's rain, perhaps because it was a precursor to today's feast day, has, for now, left an amazing peace and calm throughout the city, and especially my garden as evidenced in a few of the many photographs taken during yesterday's rain, and they are posted below.

'Tamukeyama'

Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush AKA Grace)

Avellana corylus (Contorted Hazel Nut AKA Harry's Walking Stick)

 Southeast Grouping:

"Back Row": 

Avellana corylus (Contorted Hazel Nut AKA Harry's Walking Stick) and Wire Grass

"Front Row":

Farfugium japonicum 'Cristata', Salad Greens, and Strawberries

Creeping Thyme

Juncus  effsus (Unicorn Soft Rush)