plant identified

Thanks to a garden post by September Violets, a mystery is solved:

The sole survivor of the Snowplow Incident of 2013 is Chelone obliqua,

a very hardy and tolerant (but we knew that!) native wildflower.

There is apparently a white form as well, Chelone glabra,

which I would love to see!

Do you have it in your garden?

Perhaps we could trade!

~~~~~

this week

I ate my first homegrown watermelon, ever. 

Despite an unplanned and slightly premature harvest, it was enjoyable.

And look at this:

Have you ever seen this triadic pattern in a watermelon?

Do they all have this, and I've never noticed?

The hens enjoyed making their own abstract pattern in the rind.

~~~

This week I found an interesting new place to take Piper for a walk.

We were on our way to the pond after doing an errand,

when another driver began tailgating me on a 2-lane road.

A road where fox, turkey, bear and other animals

are very likely to cause sudden, hard braking.

So I just pulled over, parked, and we headed into the woods.

Piper loved the new spot!

So much so, she took off up a steep slope and promptly went deaf.

After I'd spent a few minutes calling -

and kicking myself for not bringing a lead -

Piper reappeared, covered nose to tail in sticky burr-like seeds.

Imagine this hair wrapped around hundreds of little burrs:

The gentle deseeding process took quite a while.

It was a thorough job, because the plant that makes those seeds

is not a plant I want growing at home.

Next time we walk in the new place,

I'll bring Piper's lead.

And my camera, so you can see the new place, too.

~~~

This week I baked the first plum cake of Autumn 2014:

~~~

In goat news:

the youngsters have all learned to dress for breakfast, just like the grownups.

Collars and ties, please; we are very formal here.

Mama Lily (above) and son Campion (below).

As the babies have grown, there have been several gradual changes in

how/where/when all the goats are fed every day.

This is the last step, and soon I'll be setting up the new barn

in a configuration that should see us through Autumn and Winter.

~~~

And finally, this just in from the Cloud Harvest Cashmere Social Club:

This week, Azalea realized she is bigger than Vinca.

Huzzah!

Back in July, Azalea had a horn injury, resulting in a sore head.

So she began to avoid head-to-head contact.

As soon as the other goats realized Azalea would duck away

instead of pushing back in their normal play-battles,

she was at a huge disadvantage.

I was very worried this might permanently damage her sweet nature.

And Vinca, my Vinca-dinka-doo, little sleekit girl,

began picking on Azalea.

"You know, Vinca," I often told her as I ran interference,

"Azalea's head isn't going to be sore forever.

And she is already a lot bigger than you.

And she's a very nice girl. You would be wise to seek her friendship."

But did Vinca listen?

I think you know the answer.

So one evening this past week I was surprised to see Azalea

not only return Vinca's solid head-bump,

but also follow up with a Bulldozer Broadside:

pushing a surprised Vinca sideways - push, push, push - 

til she was pressed against a wall.

And then, I was happy to see, Azalea walked away.

Good for you, Azalea!

Of course, I didn't say that.

But I surely thought it!

~~~

What was your week like?

And what are you planning for the weekend?

Something fun, and in nice weather, I hope!

Piper advises, "Watch out for sticky seeds!"

~~~~~

a recommendation

If you think you might enjoy

sharing the world of a vibrant and evolving sculpture,

a creative force with the power to impress and amaze daily,

I strongly recommend planting Winter Squash.

~~~~~

the blues in two keys

When I was first passing through Colorado and stayed 7 years or so,

people back in New England often asked,

"So, what's it like out there?"

I'm not sure what they were asking, really.

But I thought they were asking, "How is it different from here?"

So I would mention the landscape colors.

Not that all the colors are different, of course,

but the overall landscape palette is distinctly different.

At least to my eye.

I thought of this yesterday, when Piper and I went for a walk by the pond.

Because after a night of thunderstorms,

the sky was crystalline

and drifting clouds set off

the very different blues I associate with

Colorado and Massachusetts.

Both.

In one sky.

It's easiest to see in the big picture,

so here it is again:

The lighter, brighter blue near the horizon?

Colorado.

The deeper blue above the cloud?

Massachusetts.

Each different. Both perfect.

What color is the sky where you live?

~~~~~

another surprise

By the way, this is the type of melon I recovered
after an unidentified critter had chewed through the stem.
The seed is from Seed Savers Exchange.
Their catalog is like...pie.

I planted many things for the first time this year, and sweetcorn is one example. It takes a lot of room (or so I thought before growing winter squash - hahahahahaha!) and it is a draw for wildlife I don't wish to encourage close to the house, including bear and raccoon. But this year, with my garden area enlarged a bit from last year, it seemed one block of corn would fit in the terrace garden with the 6' perimeter fence (as a slight discouragement to the wildlife), especially if I used the legendary "three sisters" method: planting pole beans, corn, and squash together, so the beans can grow up the corn stalks and the squash limits competition from other plants, sometimes known as "weeds."

Well, first of all, I won't do that planting again. Sisters they may well be, but if so, they seem very selfish and unkind sisters, taking every opportunity to elbow each other away from the buffet, and drag each other away from the window instead of simply sharing the view. Nope. From now on, the sisters will have their own rooms. I have enough drama with LeShodu, I don't need it from the vegetables.

The sweetcorn got a slow start (very cold wet weather), then grew quickly ("Why, you can watch the corn grow!"), then slowed right down (very hot dry weather) and finally produced small ears that didn't seem to fill out at all. I wondered if it was a lack of pollination due to the strange weather conditions, or if they hadn't received enough light. Or possibly they were exhausted from struggling to rise despite being throttled and pinned down by the beans. Oh well, it was an experiment and I was learning something. (Or re-learning something I should have known: vegetables are plants. Not "sisters." Plants. They compete to survive.)

This morning when I was doing my "Twister" routine (contorting my body as in the floor game, not emulating a tornado) in order to get through the winter squash rows, area, nation, I thought I might as well pick a tiny ear of corn and see if it would provide a clue to what had gone awry. Maybe insects had infiltrated and I would find an empty cob and a gaggle of disgusting worms? Ew.

Well, I'll be darned. Look at this:

Is that not the cutest and most perfect ear of corn you've ever seen?

It kind of reminded me of something...

I picked a few more ears.

Here's one for the knitters:

corn that makes its own short-row shaping!

I was so delighted by my surprising first corn harvest, I took lots of pictures.

This one is on the screenporch:

Then I carried the bowl outside to try different light,

because one does not wish

to do less than one's photographic best for one's sweetcorn.

Does one?

Five hens followed me hopefully, and every time I tried to set the bowl down - on a stone, on a stump, on the pedestal for the birdbath - they formed a tight circle around me and prepared to leap. I finally had to rest the bowl on an upright pallet, and snap quickly before they organized themselves to form a poultry pyramid, with the brilliant Jersey Black Giant mastermind on top.

I hope your day contains a lovely surprise.

And maybe a tasty one, as well.

~~~~~