Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day - September 2022

Why bother with a Bloom Day post this month, I thought to myself. I don't really have many blooms in the garden, do I? But I took my camera out to the garden anyway and found that I probably had more blooms than I had realized.

By my little pond, the inland sea oats have already "bloomed" and ripened into oats.

Likewise, the beautyberry bushes have already bloomed and are now full of tasty berries for the birds. I would show you my white beautyberries but those are already gone. The birds pounce on them as soon as they ripen. Apparently, they are very tasty. The purple berries last longer.

It wasn't 4 o'clock yet so this 4 o'clock plant (Mirabilis jalapa or marvel of Peru) was not yet in full bloom.

This pink one though always seems to bloom a bit early.

The crape myrtles are full of their flouncy blooms all summer long and into the autumn.

Pride of Barbados, aka peacock flower.

Sweet-smelling almond verbena.

Single-flower zinnias.

Tropical butterfly weed. The bloom cycle of the native butterfly weed is long since over.

The blooms of the Duranta erecta ripen into yellow berries that are devoured by the birds as soon as they appear.

An old canna blooms on.

As does the oleander.

The yellow cestrum, of course, blooms year-round in my garden.

The old lantana still has some blooms.

Hamelia patens, aka Mexican firebush.

My 'Julia Child' rose is still good for a few blooms.

And 'Belinda's Dream' is still dreamy, although the blossoms are a bit battered.

Last but not least, wedelia blooms among the rocks.

Thank you for walking through my garden this month. I'm always happy to be a part of Bloom Day.

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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