Things on my desk

I think it's a tobacco hornworm, because it has white diagonals instead of the white Vs a tomato hornworm has. I scampered out in the garden last night to cart in my beloved potted Ballerina datura, so that it would not get tornadoed, and I mention this because at 7pm, my datura was happy and whole. This morning, half my datura is just plain missing! And in its place are huge poops. I put two and two together (absent leaves + huge poops) and quickly discovered someone large and hungry (= a hiding hornworm). I have relocated this fellow to a volunteer tomato plant that I meant to weed out anyway, which might be a bad idea, but A. I don't want to squish it, and B. I do want to see it get parasitized by wasps.



...of the goose-, cran-, and wild blue- varieties. What a blueberry year it is! Matt pronounced himself a Berry Pickin' Fool, then strapped his great big backpack-style mushroom basket on his front side and employed it for "strippicking," a high-efficiency/maximum-production/non-motorized method he's devised for harvesting wild blueberries. He has to pick like that to make up for his companion, who shoves a few handfuls of berries in her mouth and then sets off across the cranberry bog to look for snakes and become mired in sphagnumy swampwater.


Shaking my rattles,

and praying for rain.


Conca d'Or and friends

I love my Conca d'Or lilies so much that when they're blooming, I wonder how life will ever be as good when they're gone. Also, my Conca d'Or lilies have brought me fame (or what passes for fame around here): they are the search term that brings the most visitors to my blog. Actually, it's not just them. It's that when you search google images for "Conca d'Or lily", you see lots of pictures of huge lemon yellow lilies, but only one picture of huge lemon yellow lilies with a hot babe in a frilly purple off-the-shoulder blouse, and of course you click on that one, and then here you are at my blog. So, for my second annual post on this topic, Matt and I posed with our lilies, which are now taller than Matt, and from my perspective, that's pretty tall. For the babe, see A Rosie and a Lily!


Sphinx moth

Dog's apocalypse

Busy days of early-morning chamomile picking, dill snipping, drawing all day, cooking without heat as best I can, then pitting sour cherries, trying to empty the crisper of market and garden which must go into belly, not compost.

Almost busy enough to not resent city. Last night I sat on porch, invigorated by sudden rainstorm, and found myself pumping fist in air and silently screaming (that's when you just mouth the words, but loud!)... ha! muthaf%#@s!

My little way of celebrating the fact that everyone else is getting their fireworks display rained out, but my dog is sleeping peacefully.

Rain stops, fireworks start, dog agitates. Whole valley has that match-strike smell. There is this Maxfield Parrish sunset, and heat lightning, and fireflies. Everyone's looking up, but I think those who see what I see... we're in the minority.


First light

I really have no news to tell you, except that two days ago, I watched a smallish-sized woodchuck eating a bagel in the alley (!). Also, early mornings have been awfully nice.