july colors

 

Just a few samples from the palette of July.

~~~~~

saturated sunday

 

It was not raining yesterday when these pictures were taken.

This year I've become very aware of the aroma of milkweed.

It's lovely, and stops me in my tracks at least twice every day, as I pass the plants growing next to the path to the barn.

Daily trips with the little hay cart have been rerouted to prevent a collision with the one milkweed plant growing in the shorter path.

Spiderwort is providing surprises:

I've now seen four shades of purple on individual plants.

Here are two:

And a single spiderwort plant blooming white. 

The palette of the barn gardens is about to change.

Daylilies on the brink of blooming:

After several years of trying, the precious thornless raspberries I've planted in the terrace garden seem to have come to terms with the tough soil and light conditions here, and are not just surviving, but growing. They are currently doing as well as can be expected in a subtropical rainforest.

(This snap makes my mouth water.)

Wishing you all an excellent week ahead.

And wishing us all a bit of moderate weather.

I don't know anyone who doesn't need it.

~~~~~

wordless thursday

 

~~~~~

more light

In Autumn 2021, I was once again pondering buying a small greenhouse - KB, are you here? You gave me some very helpful guidance based on your two greenhouses, thank you again. The greenhouse decision rolls around every Autumn. But in 2021, after many weeks of research and pencil-chewing, I came up with sufficient justification and a budget for a kit. For about 24 hours I was SO excited about finally deciding to invest in a greenhouse - a dream for over 30 years!

Then I took a hard look at my current ability to assemble a greenhouse. This put a stop to my gallop. I started wondering who I could hire to do it for me, and what it could cost. It's not a simple task. And it takes multiple people. Site preparation possibly requiring a digger? Oh my. Then, the (all too familiar) question came up: where on my forested property would a greenhouse have enough light?

Overnight it occurred to me to build the goats an extension on the barn instead. (I know. You might not want to go shopping with me.)

West side, framing underway.

I sketched up the design but it was built by Actual Professionals, which is why things look so neat and level and square. The whole construction process was remarkably quick. Usually I don't enjoy standing idly by watching other people work, but this time I just stayed out of the way and took a few snaps every day.

My idea was, that with another 20x8' shelter that can be divided - in minutes! - into two, three, or four little open stalls, more goats could happily share the barn area without intimidation or fisticuffs. I'm pretty pleased with the design. It's a pleasant, flexible, run-in shed. I call it the Peace Pavilion.

the southwest corner

It's been about as successful as all my previous peacekeeping missions in Goat World: i.e., improvement, not perfection. But it's also a very bright and airy place for hoof trimming and cashmere combing! Here, Fern prepares to demonstrate in April 2022:

And although it's not a greenhouse - remember the greenhouse? - the roof is clear corrugated panels, so there is plenty of light, at least until leaf-out. There are also big corrugated windows on the east and west walls, and the south side is completely open. So I told the goats right from the get-go that the southwest "stall" might be seasonally commandeered for use as a seed-starting area. Last Spring I was too busy with extended cashmere harvesting to close off that corner for starting seeds, but this year it could happen.

Fern says, "Really? You're expecting
an easier cashmere harvest this year?"

Hmmm. You have a point, Fernie. Well, we'll see.

By the way, one last comment about light.

Here's what I did with the floss from the milkweed seeds:

And here's why:

magic lantern!
~~~~~

milkweed constellation

Despite the wildly ranging temperatures lately, February is recognizable by it's mucky, grey days interspersed with spirit-lifting glimpses of brilliant blue skies.

And right on seasonal schedule, my thoughts have turned to seeds.

Do you remember my efforts to establish milkweed stands for Monarch butterflies? A couple of years ago, I thought the population was secure: a small stand by the barn and two more below the terrace garden. There was an actual row of Monarch chrysalides dotted along the top of a garden fence by the barn, and two more in other locations. Success! I thought my work was done.

I was wrong.

For some reason, in 2021 and again in 2022 there was less milkweed growing and almost none of it blooming. Last year I saw a Monarch butterfly only twice all summer, which may have been the same individual. And I never saw a single chrysalis.

So it's back to trying to increase the milkweed population. My usual method is to do this in Autumn, when the dry pods are already releasing seed. I just wait for a day with a light breeze, stand upwind from areas where I think milkweed has a chance of doing well, and release seed little by little to float and land where it will.

But last Autumn, the only two pods I saw didn't have much of a chance to dry and I began to wonder if the seed would rot before it had a chance to mature and disperse. So when I finally saw each pod split open slightly, I took a pinch of still-compressed seeds, hoping they were viable, and put them in a paper bag to dry. Yesterday I opened the bag.

 

It's not a lot of seed, as you see:

I'll probably plant it directly, but if anyone has experience with planting milkweed and thinks starting it in a tray and then transplanting would be better, I'll give that a go. Please share your advice in the comments!

Apparently swamp milkweed is also valuable to Monarchs, so I bought a packet of seed to plant down in the tiny wetland where the marsh marigolds bloom every Spring. Another experiment.

~~~~~

transplanting tuesday

milkweed

We've had a couple of rainy days, and tomorrow is predicted to be the first of three more rainy days, so today - which only looked like rain, all day long - was my do-or-die chance to plant the new blueberry bush, transplant the strawberries, and move a big clump of anise hyssop that got tipped up when the bigtooth poplar by the barn was blown down in the recent storm.

milkweed, detail

After morning chores, I got stuck into the job.

(By the way, the photographs are from a few days ago.

They are from the garden but not directly related to this post.

I didn't take a camera outside today because I needed to Focus On The Work.)

goldenrod

Now, at 4 PM, I am patting myself on my aching back (only mentally, I can't reach) for having gotten all three tasks completed. I've also had a lovely lunch - fried egg on a brioche roll with mayo and lettuce, and a glass of guanábana juice.

(A local store has been selling the soursop juice for a dollar per can lately, and although it is not quite what I vividly remember drinking on a very hot day in Puerto Rico, it's refreshing. And I was certainly glad to have it on hand during the recent four days without water.)

goldenrod, detail

Moxie has joined me and I'm idly wondering when I'll have to switch from my back-length heating pad to my back-length icepack. Maybe when I can't feel the heat anymore?

 I am in no hurry to try to move, so I'll just stay put for a while.

Unless Piper wants to go out.

Or Della wants to come in.

Or there's some sort of mayhem in the paddocks.

(Please, please, let there be no mayhem in the paddocks.)

Until then, just blogging. And sketching! That's coming up next.

~~~~~

goats and gardens

There's no better feeling for a person raising livestock than to hear an expert say your animals "look good." Last week, not-my-usual-vet came out and did annual shots for the herd. He commented repeatedly on the condition and manners of my goats, which left me feeling pretty darned good. I don't take my goats to shows, and very few of the people who come here and see them are "goat people," so it's rare for me to get this kind of feedback. Rare and sweet.

Tsuga says, "You know he was talking about ME, right?"

~~~

It's taken several years of encouragement, but there are now three separate milkweed stands producing flowers here, and my efforts to bring Monarch butterflies back to my place are ever so gradually paying off.

Last year my Occasional Helper spotted the first chrysalis - which was unfortunately attached to a fence in a high-risk spot. After a lot of thought, I decided it's chances were better in the house, so I had the experience of watching it slowly develop into an actual butterfly. Pretty much everyone I know has had this experience - usually in childhood - but I never did. So it was especially magical.

This year, I saw two Monarchs dancing around the gardens!

And a couple of days ago I noticed one of these, in two of the milkweed stands:

Huzzah!

~~~

Remember last year's zinnias? I started seeds in peat pots, transplanted them into the terrace garden, and they bloomed and bloomed and bloomed and brought me joy every single day.

This year I mixed seeds saved from last year's flowers with a few left in 2018 packets, and seeded them directly into the garden. They have just begun to bloom and it's so exciting to see what colors they are turning out to be. I already have plans to find seeds for zinnia colors I particularly enjoy, and plant even more next year.

~~~

Daylilies!

How I love them.

Sometimes when the very last flower on a stem is blooming,

I bring it into the house to enjoy for it's precious day.

Like this:

And perhaps to draw:

And speaking of drawing...I think I answered every comment in the previous post,

but I want to say a general "thank you" again.

I am so grateful that each of you took the time to reply, and I am pleased as punch that you are not getting tired of the daily markmaking adventure.

You lovely people made me the same kind of happy as the vet who complimented me on the condition of my goats! Thank you so much!

~~~~~

milkweed

If you've been following Comptonia for a while, you may recall that I've been trying to establish milkweed plants for several years. They are very interesting plants all year round, and I photograph them often. In the winter, there is usually a dry stalk or two in a jug on a windowsill.

November 2017

For many years there have been a few milkweed plants up by the goat barn - at least, I think they are milkweed plants - but they have never produced flowers in that shady spot. So when two plants appeared a few years ago on the steep, sunny bank next to the terrace vegetable garden, I took care to protect them.

Last year, instead of two plants, there were a few. I saved some of the seeds and scattered them on the other side of the driveway - one of the last holdouts for bittersweet because it's not fenced, and it's hard for me to let the goats browse there.

July 2018

This year, enough milkweed plants sprouted that I felt that the population was established and I can start balancing a bit. In fact, there were enough plants growing on both sides of the driveway that I took a few down that had appeared right in the garden, shading the new raised bed.

The main reason I have tried to establish a milkweed "stand" is in hopes of bringing back the Monarch butterflies.

And yesterday, for the first time, in the big vegetable garden:

Yes, it is a Monarch.

 It is a Monarch on a zinnia.

The milkweed is only a few feet away, so maybe it will go there next.

Nope. Another zinnia!

I'm sure it knows where the milkweed is.

I was taking these photographs from such a distance, I could not even be sure it was a Monarch - or that any of the images would be in focus - until I put them on the laptop last night. So happy to see these snaps!

Let's hope it will be the first of many sightings.

~~~~~