July was the most peaceful, relaxing time I’ve ever spent, so laid back I’m almost going in reverse. I spent most of my time reclining in the garden reading Louise Penny mystery novels and gazing into space. While some of my friends were mock-rolling their eyes at how busy they were with endless visitors and outings and cooking and all, I just smiled. After all that non-stop spring gardening activity, it’s now time to stop and enjoy the view.
Spending a month in the garden, watching it change over time as one thing or another would come into bloom was, if you can believe it, exciting. (As I say, don’t get out much.) Always something new and unexpected and even moments of tragedy. I watched insect life cycles, noticing when spittle bugs came and went, when the wasps arrived and put an end to al fresco dinners, and bees, always bees, slurping away at the buffet. I watched the ravens, sometimes 7 of them circling overhead, with their distinctive, odd voices. One of them yells “Allah, allah” repeatedly, to which I respond in kind and one day when somewhere a neighbor’s dog was barking nonstop, I actually heard one of them mimic quite brilliantly the sound. Life in a small patch of land.
Some mornings I would get up really early and sit outside watching the light change as the sun came up, a few clouds rolling in from the coast, moving on to disperse inland. I followed the phases of the moon and enjoyed, one of these early mornings, the sight of the waning moon, a perfect half-circle on this day, far above, white against the brightening blue sky. Listened to the birds wake up, enjoying the human quiet, until the time when the inevitable power mowers, edgers, blowers and chainsaws would start up somewhere in the distance. Bastards. Just shut the fuck up.
When the crocosmias came into bloom the real excitement started up. It took a nanosecond for the hummingbirds to arrive and for the next 3 weeks they were a constant source of entertainment. Tough, scrappy little guys, I watched their turf wars, as they’d fight over the flower patch, chasing away anyone bold enough to come for a share. You never see 2 hummingbirds sharing the flowers as do the bees. One night I was sitting outside after dinner and one of them came and hovered for quite some time just a few feet in front of my face, eye to eye as we checked each other out. I have a hundred images of them as I practiced the fine art chance of hummingbird photography.
I did have to, from time to time, get off my lawn chair to do my chores. With a hundred plants in pots, this keeper of the Fuchsia Ranch and Pot House had to water, water, water, deadhead, deadhead, deadhead. We had a solid month without a drop of rain so as time went on we had to take care of the newly planted shrubs and perennials in the flower beds. By the end of the month it seemed like no matter how you watered, it was never enough.
Of course, as idyllic as it was most of the time, life is not life without its drama. One day I was sitting in the Bunkie courtyard cheating at Sudoku as usual, when I heard the familiar scrabbling sound as Dennis climbed the fence back into garden, just a few feet from where I was sitting. I looked up to watch him as he crested the gate to see him carrying a small rat in his mouth. You have never seen me move so fast, in the opposite direction of course. Now a dead rat is hardly a tragedy, except perhaps to its friends and family (think Ratatouille), but one day real disaster struck.
I was sitting at the table in the kitchen beside the open door to the patio. I looked out to see Dennis moving at quite a clip past. A few seconds later, he came back into view with something in his mouth, a mouse perhaps, heading straight into open doorway. I got up quickly to head him off, but not fast enough. He dropped his prize on the floor, Howard came running at all my commotion, and jaws dropped at the horrible realization that we were staring at a dead hummingbird. Awful. Dennis was grounded, the humans wandered around all day, deeply depressed, and the crocosmia flower stalks, almost at an end anyway, were cut down. Sad day for sure in the garden.
The memory still haunts but the trauma has passed. Back to the lawn chair, and books and puzzles, dozing and observing. Every day there is something new to see, a newly planted perennial comes into bloom, or a plant finishes its run and fades back to reveal its neighbor taking its turn. The 4 cherry tomato plants in pots provide the garden candy, so named as the fruits rarely make it into the kitchen. I notice the days starting to get shorter in the evenings and August will have its own special flavor, including some day trips and visitors. The cycle moves on.
My life has been fine this glorious summer July.
Dolce far niete – sweet doing nothing.
