Category Archives: weather

The feijoas are falling.

summer, weather, , , , ,

I had in mind to do a bit of gardening today, but since it is hot, I’d need to do it early. Early came and went, and even the shady places I had planned to work with my little trowel were not shady enough. Typically our shady places are much cooler than in the full sun, but not this week.

So I just went out and wandered a little while eating a popsicle, and saw that dozens of pineapple guavas had dropped on the ground. That means that they are ripe. So I fetched a bowl from the kitchen and crawled around to gather them — four pounds!

The little squash in the photo above is the only and stunted kabocha that resulted from my first attempt. Next year maybe I will try them again, but in the front yard instead of butternuts. I brought in three of the latter whose stems were not green any longer. After I trimmed off the portions of the long squash vines that are not bearing fruits, I can see spaces into which to insert the starts of leafy greens that I’ve had in the greenhouse.

The fruits of the arbutus (Strawberry Tree) have also been falling for some time, but they usually are overripe before that happens. Right now the bush is covered with ripening fruits, flowers for next year, and pine needles that have fallen — currently including a whole stem of them — as they do on everything that grows on that side of the yard. If I were a terribly tidy sort of gardener I’d need to spend an hour every day picking off the needles of the constantly shedding Canary Island Pine.

I showed Bea how I eat the feijoas/pineapple guavas, and she and I stood around for awhile savoring these exotic gift of late summer.  It’s 101 degrees as I type, and I’m thinking this fruit would be nice about now blended with coconut water and poured over ice…. But I’m headed to Vespers, so I’m glad to see that as to temperature, tomorrow promises to be a similar day in which to enjoy such a drink!

A season soft and warm.

smells, summer, weather, , , ,

I am so thankful that a week and more of warm days has been bestowed on us here at the end of Summer. You can tell I love this season best, if you just look at all the posts over the years that have summer in the title. I am always searching my mind and and heart to find a way to describe what happens to me, when in the final weeks we often get the best of the season — the earth has warmed up, and for some reason the marine breezes don’t move in every afternoon and force us to put on our sweaters.

I’ve been taking advantage of this unusual situation as much as possible, and sitting in the garden to read my book, or just to soak up the feeling of being comfortable. I’m noticing.

(Not soft but stickery.)

When I walked along the nearby creek this week, I remembered another benefit of living in this climate with no summer rain, often for four months or more. The plants that thrive or survive the yearly drought eventually come to the end of their productive season, and if there is heat at this time, it draws out the essences such that I am grabbed by the aromas as I walk past. There is a lot of jammy scent right now, from the Himalayan blackberries that grow wild all over northern California; the ones that never fully ripened back in high summer are now dehydrating on their stems.

And the ubiquitous fennel, also growing wild, though it’s also not native. These exude a licorice flavor into the air about now.

According to the forecast, we’ll have another ten days of highs in the 80’s and even 90’s. I think that is just the best way to transition into October.

In the midst of heady scents.

art, weather, ,

It is such a blustery day. My helper in the garden was not able to come at all in March, in spite of trying and getting rained out. I think he might come today, though even if the rain stops, it’s so windy and cold, I do not want to go out there and join in the clean up and pruning and weeding. I will just stay in and do a few Greek lessons, and show you more pictures of the garden.

At right is a birthday card I received from my grandson. He’s doing an extensive series of these drawings of which this is only one family member, so I don’t think he was necessarily implying any resemblance. But I immediately felt that this motherly looking cat was a kindred spirit.

More birthday gifts illustrate this post, made by several of the younger, most practical and artistic grandchildren. The ones who live in California keep writing cards and letters wondering when they will next see me; these, combined with the departure of the Colorado clan after they had been available for hugs for a whole week, gave me the idea of making a quick trip north to see Pippin’s brood this weekend — but stop… breathe… It looks better to wait until after Pascha, and more easily accomplished. So I’m looking forward to that, though even then it will be a challenge to squeeze it in. Because of May travels.

In the front garden, more Yellows and Oranges are flowering to complement the purples and blues. The freesias have never smelled so divine; maybe it is the heavenly dampness in the air that carries their scent to my head such that I want to sit down on the wet sidewalk and swoon a while. In the lower right of the picture below you can see the new ceanothus covered with its Lenten purple. The green shag carpet is baby nigella, which I need to thin out severely as soon as the weather is favorable.

The hen hotpad above is the exception in the group — not made by a grandchild, but sent by my dear friend in Arizona ❤

The irises in the front, which are supposed to be tall, but have been short lately, are sending up tall stems with buds now, and they are beginning to open, just as the yellow California poppies are coming on. Now, if the rain will just stop, and the wind turn into a gentle spring breeze…

No one has played an April Fool’s joke on me today — I don’t think. How about you?

Be still, sad heart!

poetry, weather, , ,

THE RAINY DAY

The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains, and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow