Growing conditions are difficult in Southern New Mexico, so I am always charmed and delighted when a volunteer plant shows up in our garden. This year several rock rose volunteers have appeared in the courtyard, and living up to their name, they have chosen the most rocky and difficult locations in which to appear. All are descendants from the one pot of rock roses that I planted last year.
Back in the mountains — after the evening rain, everything was shining in the sun this morning as I took my walk. The weeds were knee-high, hiding the subtle beauty that is easy to overlook.
I’m always on the lookout.
Every year, one of my potted arrangements outshines all the others. This year, my favorite pot is planted with Snapdragons, Marigolds, and Lobelias.
Alas, the magenta Calla Lilies (center back) and the pink Calibrachoa (back left) have finished blooming.
Gentle Reader, only God is perfect.
Yesterday, I worked in the garden until mid-afternoon. The heat of the sun made rivulets of salty sweat run down my face. I was too busy, too driven, too absorbed in my tasks to enjoy the day. Finally, satisfied with my labors, I retreated into the shade of the house to rest.
In the evening, I was drawn to walk in the garden. Suddenly, I was in Eden. I understood why God liked to walk in the garden in the evening. There was something about the soft evening light that made the colors of the blossoms and leaves so intensely vivid. The air was cool. Day was almost done.
There was beauty.
A couple of days ago, a friend gave me a Rose of Sharon bush. Today, the first blossom opened. Lovely.
The Rio Ruidoso was higher than I had ever seen it today on my morning walk. It was running over its banks in several places from the rain that had fallen on the Sierra Blanca, and the water was muddier than I had ever seen it, but it was good to see so much water — a precious commodity in Southern New Mexico.
In May I had looked in vain for the wild sweet peas, but today I found them in abundance on the forest floor, ranging from pale pink to vivid magenta. Ah-h-h.
“Morning Glories” © 2021 by Lynn K. Miyake
Our garden has been struggling lately in the heat. My Morning Glories refused to bloom, so I decided to create a virtual garden by sketching blossoms from my photos, first in pencil, then with ink and colored pencil added. I discovered that an imaginary garden can be almost as satisfying as the real thing.
Last week I visited Father Valentine. Upon leaving, he gave me a dozen multicolored eggs from his multicolored chickens — green, blue, white, brown, and speckled — a garden of eggs. Yum!
This morning after the Corpus Christi Mass, celebrating the Real Presence of Jesus in the Holy Eucharist, my garden looked particularly lovely. Pictured above on the left: Petunia and Calibrachoa. On the right: Sweet Potato Vine, Rose, and Lobelia.
Back up in the mountains, the local movie theatre has reopened after the long pandemic closure, but I’m still not ready to sit in a crowded theatre. The best show in town is my neighbor’s Calla Lily along with its howling coyote companion. Apparently, I am easily entertained.
I spent the week in the mountains. It was very dry, so I didn’t see many wildflowers. Before I left for the mountains, my new rose bush (bred specifically for growing in a pot) was covered with buds. When I returned, I found it in full bloom. Roses always make me think of Our Lady.
What is it about roses that makes them so special?