Tag Archives: blue-eyed grass

Deadfall Meadows

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I’m currently staying at my daughter Pippin’s place in far-northern California. Her family lives at about 4,000 ft., but my first day here we took a drive and then a hike that brought us near Mt. Eddy and to an elevation over 7,000 ft., at Deadfall Meadows.

The meadows stretch up the mountain around Deadfall Creek, which fills Upper, Middle and Lower Deadfall Lakes. Thousands of butterflies seemed to be accompanying us through those meadows; we especially were taken with the small pale lavender-blue ones that gave the impression of flower petals fluttering in the breeze.

Actual wildflowers were even more abundant. I am sharing here fewer than half of the ones that we admired and usually tried to identify, or confirm the identity of.

Larkspur
Scarlet Gilia
Blue-eyed Grass
Bigelow’s Sneezeweed

As we hiked I was only using my phone to take pictures or use the Seek app, and I never checked the time. We had left the house before 9:00 and when we got back to the car with our hiking all done, it was after 4:00, which was to me completely shocking.

Jamie in particular felt the length of the day; he always says that he doesn’t mind hiking, it’s his legs that do not like it. He’s seven years old and is amazingly chipper even when droopy, or lying down on the trail.

Our goal was the largest Deadfall Lake, the Middle one. We sat on the shore for an hour eating our snacky lunch and cooling our feet.

A water snake streaked out from the rocks in the direction of my feet, but when he got a few inches away and had a good look, it took him a split second to shift into reverse and swim back into his hiding place. After poking his head out and looking at the more beautiful members of the family, he posed briefly for Pippin and eventually left the area altogether for deeper waters.

White Marsh Marigold

Some people ride horseback on this trail, and muck it up into mudholes in the many places where the path crosses the creek. On our way back down scores of little butterflies were drinking at the mud.

The pale lavender-blue ones are likely blues, coppers or hairstreaks. There are more than six dozen species in those three categories in California, so Pippin read to me when we later tried to narrow down the identity of the particular ones that day. We had to wait until the end of the trail to get a good view, when Ivy was given permission to catch a butterfly while it was focused on its refreshment.

Not long after our encounter with the drinking butteries, we were back at the parking lot and driving home. We had only hiked about three miles, but at our mostly meandering rate necessitated by those with cameras and short legs, and much trekking uphill, it had taken most of the day — a beautifully satisfying day.

Seep Monkeyflower

Turtling with rugs and flowers.

homemaking, my garden, Pascha, , , , , , , , , , ,

As I was ironing some springtime trousers in the morning room, my eye caught the color on the orchid nearby. It’s blooming! Sometime in the last months I’d moved this long-ignored plant into my new space, and started giving it a little water more regularly. The response is heartening.

What I did to the neglected orchid was never conceived as a task to write on a list. It was just one of those many little things that we do, when we are “puttering” about our homes. Small tasks add up to make an increasingly homey space.

Only recently I found these rugs that seemed just perfect for my morning room that I hope will also be a sewing room. One of the reasons they appealed was that the turtle had not long before become an important symbol for me, after I heard a woman about my age speak about the practice of moving forward, no matter how slowly, when one is feeling overwhelmed by decisions and tasks. She said we must “keep turtling.” I had never heard “turtle” used as a verb before, but immediately I began to feel an affinity with those creatures, and to think of them as elegant and wise.

It seems there are other slangy meanings for to turtle, and one of them, “To defensively hide in one’s shell,”  has long been part of my survival toolkit. Ideally, I like to enact both meanings, as on the days when I get to stay home all day and get homey things done.

Bright Monday afternoon I truly lazed about the garden, quite worn out from the festivities and staying up late many nights for Holy Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday services. Then there was Pascha itself, when many of us didn’t get to bed until 4:00 a.m. I was pretty loopy, and really happy about many things, including the sunny day. I think you could say that I turtled, too, because I phoned my sister, and also invited a neighbor over to sit a while. I moved forward in catching up with people I love.

In the picture below of the orange helianthemum, you can see in the distance a box of panettone and a jar of lemon curd. I was having friends for dinner and took those items out of the freezer kind of late, so I was defrosting them in the sun.

As we enter the last day of Bright Week, I wanted to be sure to show you these garden beauties that show their understanding hearts by their uplifted and shining faces.

The hummingbird and I

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Sweeping up, trimming dead leaves, feeding, transplanting…. I love it all. This afternoon I managed to spend a few hours working in the garden and though I accomplished only a fraction of what’s needing done, every little bit helps, right? Back and forth I went from the greenhouse to the strawberry barrels, from the garage to the patio, carrying blood meal or seaweed food, a lavender plant in a pot, the pruners or a trowel or a trug in which to put the trimmings.

In the morning before I even came downstairs I was listening to the birds, and when I looked out the window of my bedroom I got a nice view of the snowball bush that has begin to bloom. And when I aimed my camera a little bit to the right of that, it shows you the table where we will sit over tea when you come to visit. After touring the garden, of course!

As I was eating my breakfast I noticed a hummingbird checking out the Pride of Madeira, or echium candicans — that’s because the blue flowers have finally started to open!! I hope lots more flowers will follow, to fill out the bloom properly.

Both kinds of rockrose, cistus, have opened now, and both are heartmelting:

Below, heuchera and blue-eyed grass:

My big rose geranium that I keep by the back door, in hopes that I will brush against it when I pass by and catch some of its scent, was terribly overgrown and gangly. I trimmed it severely and brought in a few stems to put with pincushion flowers on the kitchen counter.

All that was in the back garden. When the light was waning, and I had put away my garden tools but not my camera, I went to the front and saw that in the last day an asparagus stalk had suddenly made a sharp turn and was coming on to the sea holly.

Isn’t he a brave fellow to cozy up to such a prickly girl?

I missed my walks by the creek today, and visits with weeds. I don’t have to work hard to enjoy those wild plants; they take care of themselves and I never have a thought to remove them from wherever they are growing. But they also aren’t as satisfying to me as all my demanding cultivated flowers and vegetables! I’m looking forward to more work and pleasure tomorrow.

Holy Week with children and silence.

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P1090510I started this week with the blessed Entrance into Jerusalem, the waving of palms, and exhortations from our priests to the flock not to think we have arrived, not to relax and try to coast to Pascha. We ought rather to have the spirit of St. Paul when he said he was pressing on. We have a lot to enter into in this last intense week of Christ’s passion.

It was surely the grace of God that got me out of bed the next morning for Bridegroom Matins. It is very sweet to gather and sing lines such as these:P1090513

O Bridegroom, surpassing all in beauty,
Thou hast called us to the spiritual feast of Thy bridal chamber.
Strip from me the disfigurement of sin,
through participation in Thy sufferings;
clothe me in the glorious robe of Thy beauty,
and in Thy compassion make me feast with joy at Thy Kingdom.

We’ve had aP1090540nother kind of blessing this week, a visit from Pippin and family. It has been really good to spend time with little Ivy in particular, 18-months-old right now. And the group of us had a lovely outing to the redwoods and the beach.

Scout liked climbing on downed trees, and Ivy collected sticks. But this stick was still connected to the tree so she had to give up on it eventually.ivy branch crp 4-14

It’s very pretty the way the new lighter green fronds of fern contrast with the older ones.P1090580

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Poison oak is climbing gracefully up this redwood.

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On the bluffs above the ocean hundreds of wild irises were in bloom.

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When I moved in close to take their picture with an arched rock in the distance, I saw this blue-eyed grass almost hidden in the ferny turf nearby.

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We picnicked near the parking lot surrounded by giant yellow lupine bushes, before going down to the shore. You can see in the photo below that the fog was still hanging on past noon, typical for Northern California beaches.

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We spent a good while with the children digging and playing chase with the waves, and the adults taking pictures. Ivy liked to sit by herself and dig with her toes into the damp sand. She tasted it, too, but that wasn’t so satisfying. The sun came out.P1090581

Then everyone but me went for a walk. I don’t know how that happened, but I wasn’t disappointed to be left alone. I had just been reading Fr. Thomas Hopko’s “Precepts for Christian Living,” which Lisa thoughtfully posted recently, and I was struck by his admonition to “Sit in silence 20 to 30 minutes each day.”

I wasn’t sure when I read it what exactly would fit the description of this activity Fr. Tom recommends — it sounds like a big order. But sitting on the beach was obviously the perfect opportunity. When my husband returned he found me listening for God’s silence, surrounded by the roar of the sea.

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