Holy Spirit, come with light, Break the dark and gloomy night With Thy day unending. Help us with a joyful lay Greet the Lord’s triumphant day Now with might ascending.
Comforter so wondrous kind, Noble guest of heart and mind Fix in us Thy dwelling. Give us peace in storm and strife, Fill each troubled heart and life With Thy joy excelling.
Make salvation clear to us, Who despite our sin and dross Would exalt the Spirit. For without Thine aid and love All our life and work must prove Vain and without merit.
Raise or bow us with Thine arm, Break temptation’s evil charm, Clear our clouded vision. Fill our hearts with longing new, Cleanse us with Thy morning dew, Tears of deep contrition.
Blessed Fount of life and breath, Let our hope in view of death Blossom bright and vernal; And above the silent tomb Let the Easter lilies bloom, Signs of life eternal.
I doubt anyone would label me a “poor old widow,” but I can relate to many things in this little poem. It’s given me a brand new idea, too, of sewing in my garden. Today would be fine day for that…
A WIDOW’S WEEDS
A poor old Widow in her weeds Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds; Not too shallow, and not too deep, And down came April — drip — drip — drip. Up shone May, like gold, and soon Green as an arbour grew leafy June. And now all summer she sits and sews Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows, Teasle and tansy, meadowsweet, Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit; Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells; Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells; Like Oberon’s meadows her garden is Drowsy from dawn till dusk with bees. Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs, And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes; And all she has is all she needs —- A poor old Widow in her weeds.
I know we are instructed as Christians to give thanks in everything, but there are things that we can’t honestly give thanks for. I’ll start with one of those Bad events:
While my family was here, we had the unhappy discovery that the fairy house creations at the creek had been vandalized, and Ivy’s beautiful sign torn down. We could tell it wasn’t just city maintenance workers reducing the fire hazard or anything like that, because although the dry grass had been chopped down a lot, it wasn’t a thorough job. And there was graffiti on the far side of the creek, along with gnomes thrown into the stream and various items disappeared altogether. The fairy who had through many seasons hovered overhead by means of fishing line, was not to be seen.
My gnome before.
My granddaughter found her sign and hung it up in a less conspicuous place. Probably the presence of the sign had drawn the attention of the vandals to the opportunity to destroy something. We were both very sad about this, and angry. But I don’t think Ivy has given up; I won’t be surprised if the next time she is visiting down here I find myself collaborating on a rehabilitation of the fairy village.
In the meantime, on her recent visit, Ivy came bearing my own garden gnome, meticulously painted so that he is better than new.
Starting with the refurbished gnome, I have only Good things to report.
Near a different creek that runs through my neighborhood, is a lovely city park that is Ever Green with soccer fields and Coast Redwood trees. Pathfinder and I went there with his nephews on the way back from the grieved fairy house village, and the three of them threw a football to each other for a while. I walked around taking pictures of them and of the trees that have only grown more majestic over the 36 years since we first visited them a block from our house. What a blessing they are.
On my own property, my only dahlia has bloomed for the first time. After I had forgotten planting it and before I noticed it happening it was fully open, and startled me.
Decades ago I had quite a few dahlias, but there wasn’t really room for them, so I gave them away. For a recent birthday a friend gave me a dahlia tuber, which I’d first planted in a pot, where it barely survived. So I planted it in the front garden, where it is a Good.
And the final great Good for today is Queen Anne’s Lace, growing quite mysteriously and so welcome at the corner of my own driveway. Over the years several other species have volunteered themselves among the oenethera there, mostly arriving from the garden on the other side of the driveway. This is the first wildflower that has traveled all the way from the creek path. I can hardly believe my good fortune at the bestowal of this beloved plant. May it ever increase!
Son “Pathfinder” came from Oregon to see his sister Kate’s family, and we six packed into his truck to drive out to the coast for the day, to hike along a ridge trail and also picnic on the beach. As usual, I lagged behind half the time, making discoveries every few feet of interesting grasses and flowers, and trying to learn or remember their names.
California Aster a.k.a. Pacific Coast Aster
The wind was blowing up on the bluffs, but on the beach the air was still, and Kate was able to slice cheese in her lap and pass it around to the rest of us with nary a grain of sand involved.
Black Mustard
I’m showing several instances of Coastal Buckwheat, one of my favorite plants, with blooms more or less faded from the original pastel pink. It just now occurs to me that one reason I love it may be that those gray and pink colors were also featured in my grandma’s bathroom when I was a child. The bees appreciate it for their own reasons.
Below, a mixture of catsear and lotus combined to create a carpet of yellow:
Another contributor to the sunny tone was the Seaside Woolly Sunflower:
Seaside Woolly Sunflower
The grasses were swaying back and forth in the wind — European Marram Grass, my Seek app told me — and my favorite Rattlesnake Grass was abundant.
European Marram GrassRattlesnake Grass
European Searocket
To eat our snacky lunch, we gathered around a minimalist and rickety teepee someone else had built, because there was a nice log beside it that seated five nicely. In the foreground here is Tetragonia tetragonioides, which I’ve always known as New Zealand Spinach, but the actual New Zealanders usually call it warrigal. There’s a better-watered specimen of this plant that keeps volunteering in my backyard garden:
A pink sport from the usual white native yarrow.
Pathfinder patiently discussed with me ways to tell two members of the Carrot Family apart, plants that grow in a similar habitat and that I’ve repeatedly mixed up over the decades. He noticed the different leaf shape and type: Cow Parsnip has large, deeply toothed leaves:
Cow Parsnip
…while Angelica — in this case Henderson’s Angelica — has pinnately compound leaves.
Henderson’s Angelica
Their flowers aren’t exactly the same, either, and there are other differences. Once I saw the two plants growing right next to each other; that helped, for a time. Unfortunately the Seek app that I use a lot does not have a search feature; but if it did, I would probably be even more distracted from enjoying the plants themselves. So I guess it’s just as well.
Coastal Buckwheat with yarrow and more.
It was a very satisfying outing, even if several of us did get sunburned. That was opportunity to take advantage of a backyard botanical: my Aloe Vera plant, the leaves of which we peeled on one side, revealing the gelatinous interior, which we applied to red arms and neck. Oh, so soothing.
Gladsome Lights 