There’s something so elemental about thunderstorms – the way the sky darkens, the air stills and then the distant rumbles of thunder turn to sharp cracks overhead.
Yesterday morning we had a magnificent storm complete with little hailstones. The garden seemed to perk up instantaneously with the first drops of rain.
And for those of you who read my post about my Cathedral Bell vine of last year, I figured it would be fun to show it as it is now.
It is still possible to sit in the chair without squishing the vines… on the freshly-painted chair from earlier this summer. I love Cathedral Bell vines. So far, there are no blooms though they will come. The flowers open up like big bells with a little saucer underneath (or over top of) their bloom. They are a lovely purple colour and, unlike Morning glories, they last for several days.
And much to my amazement, the Poppy Anemones bulbs I stored in the fridge over the winter and planted earlier this summer have begun blooming. This isn’t the greatest of pictures but it conveys the beautiful colours of the flower. These are my favourite Anemones. Planting them outdoors in fall for spring blooming is not an option here, so I think I’ve found my solution.
With the thunderstorm yesterday, I went in search of one of my Laurie Colwin novels, A Big Storm Knocked It Over. This was the last novel she wrote before her death in 1992. That was a sad time. I felt as if I’d lost a best friend. No more of her books to look forward to or her wonderful characters to get to know, like Jane Louise …
In back of the house behind a stone wall Eleanor grew beans on poles and English peas. Her tomatoes ran up an arched trellis. She grew garlic, onions, chard, and celery. Along the stone wall in back of the garden was the blackberry and raspberry path, now green, fuzzy, and full of ferns. Her rhubarb was forty years old.
Jane Louise went out barefoot. The coolness and softness of the lawn gave slightly beneath her feet, and from the misty earth rose up the smell of grass, air and the deep, rich smell of soil.
She shook the bags of human hair Eleanor hung on the fence post to keep the deer away, and she scattered fresh mothballs under the lilies. The deer loved Eleanor’s lilies and especially liked to nibble the young buds. She emptied the dead slugs from their saucers of beer into the compost heap and put fresh saucers out. Then, before the sun broke through the mist, she did a little hoeing and went inside to make coffee, thinking about her husband and this house.
And now I’m off to my own garden … there are some oriental lilies soon to burst into bloom.