Back to the 50s

Last night before midnight I took some photographs of the night sky (the moon primarily; bright and almost full) and decided also to take some photographs of the night-time garden in the backyard. Different, and interesting enough. Fun, as well. Today, perusing the gardens, there is Mountain bluet in bloom, geraniums, and columbine, lots of them. As well the poppies are springing up everywhere, not yet in bloom, along with calendula. Bee balm and bellflower are budding, and the Carpathian bellflowers are blooming. The large bleeding hearts are in full flower; quite the sight.

In the front gardens the two rhododendrons are opening their huge scarlet blossoms. The saucer magnolia is still opening its huge blooms, and the Sargentii crabs fiercely hold on to their flowers, unlike the flowering peas which have released their tiny yellow blooms, ready to grow those spiky, poisonous pea pods. The creeping phlox is a carpet of bright blue, the coral bells blooming surprisingly early. The bearded irises and the Siberian irises are both in bloom. The Japanese spurge still has some flowers left, the hens 'n chicks look about ready to begin their flower stalks.

In short, the gardens are thriving, flourishing, their architectural texture, fragrance (the fragrant lilies of the Valley, the divine azalea) send me into a tizzy of fond appreciation. This morning my husband painted the new deck floor with light stain and preservative, so we're shut out of enjoying it for a few days. Have had to create a bypass for Button and Riley, through the side door then through the garden gate into the backyard. And so we sat out on the front patio for a change in the afternoon, reading the newspapers there.

In the ravine, though we looked carefully for the blue-eyed grass we'd seen the previous two days, it was fruitless. Oh the grass itself was still there, but the delicate flowers had disappeared. The cardinal had flown onto the top of a dead old elm, and its body flashing crimson in the sun, sang lustily for us. How did that wonderful bird intuit that we were deserving of such a concert? Lots of robins in there today, and even the hawk could be heard flying about. Maple and oak seedlings have begun to take advantage of the opportunity left by the storm-caused destruction of those old pines, we noted.

In the morning I had pitted all the cherries I'd bought a few days earlier. They weren't nearly as sweet as I'd hoped they would be, and I felt they would be more appreciated in a pie, and set about baking one. And prepared as well, a bread dough for tomorrow evening's pizza, one of our culinary traditions of long standing. After dinner we listened to an hour of golden oldies on the CBC. Jerry Grey and The Travellers, no less, singing old Pete Seeger and Woody Guthrie songs of the 30s and 40s. "If I Had a Hammer"; "This Land is Your Land"; "Kisses Sweeter Than Wine", among them.

A wonderful way to celebrate our 54th wedding anniversary. How did they know? I can recall as a 13 and 14-year-old kid sitting around the Friday night campfire at Camp Naivelt, listening to The Travellers, singing along with them on the chorus. And it was when we were both 14 that we first met, became inseparable companions, and remain that to the present day, our 54th anniversary of our marriage. Although we've been together far longer than that.