Well, July has come and gone in just the twinkling of an eye, the space of a heartbeat, - quicker than you can say Jack Robinson.
Where is the Bee—
Where is the Blush—
Where is the Hay?
Ah, said July—
Where is the Seed—
Where is the Bud—
Where is the May—
- Emily Dickinson, Answer July
It has left us with memories of lilies and roses, a friendly swathe of whites daisies, the last of the delphiniums and the bee balm at it's very best. The gayest memory of all, and perhaps the most fleeting, is that of the volunteer poppies and wildflowers that made such a merry bed along the side of the trailer cum loom room, and swallowed the new iris and peony bed in their wonderful exhuberance.
The foxgloves and the Canterbury bells that I planted this spring are sturdy, but not showing any signs of blooming this year. However, they may be September belles.
In the centre of the front bed the large orange daylily has grown to gargantuan proportions, crowding the neighbouring phlox and the statice and peonies, - they are marked for removal to the perennial beds I hope to make at the back, with a half a dozen more inches of nice rich soil, - will the compost produce that much? Surely with the hundred of wheelbarrow loads that get dumped on it, - the results of weeding and deadheading and cutting back of spent plants.
There are other plants in the garden that should be divided and moved - the lavender daisy and the perennial alyssum, the bee balm and bits of delphinium that would probably flourish in new soil.
The sedum blooms are growing large and promising, and the delphinium that were cut down at the end of their blooming are once again a couple of feet tall, - healthy and vibrant and ready to bloom well into autumn.
Another harbinger of fall, - the sunflowers that shade what was the potted garden and is now a little cutting garden. Not too successful this year, - the white nicotiana turned out to be pink and the white flax is not what I had thought it would be, but the evening scented stock is glorious in the evening, and the scented sweet peas are just starting to bloom and spread their fragrance on the night air.
I am deadheading like mad, trying to keep ahead of the heritage sweet peas that have grown to the top of their extended support, and are beautiful to behold with their lovely delicate blooms - no fragrance!
Along the garage the morning glories are starting to make a nice showing, - - along with nasturtiums they seem the best bet for that particular spot, and I won't try to grow sweet peas there again unless the soil is greatly enriched and an enclosure built to extend it another six inches or so.
More July treasures.
"Fairest of the months! Ripe summer's queen
The hey-day of the year
With robes that gleam with sunny sheen
Sweet August doth appear."
- R. Combe Miller