|See the little flower thief?|
It was pretty muggy indoors this afternoon, and the writing wasn’t going well, so I stepped outside to have a bite of lunch and look around. This is what I saw when I stepped out of the back door. Can’t see it? Look carefully between the fence and the base of the rose bush. Yup, that’s Fleur. When I came out, she was ripping leaves off of Buffy. I said, “Hey! What’re you doing?” and she dropped the leaf and said “Nuthin’.” Then she ran into the neighbor’s yard. I fear she’s been gnawing on Zoe; there are several blossoms on the ground right now.
I took a good look around and discovered that Tara is growing like the proverbial weed, and Willow is about to pop with at least half a dozen buds close to opening. Buffy has, probably, hundreds of buds in spite of having been trimmed back so Tara got some sunlight. Cordy is hanging in there. Zoe is limp except for the new growth, Fred has put out a new and somewhat erratically-placed cane, and Faith is budding out nicely. River is filled with buds and blooms but the flowers last about a day before they drop off. I pulled some grape vines and leaves down to give the girls more sun, and when I went to throw them away I discovered that someone had tossed a dead rat into our dumpster. The little pink feet made me feel very sad; I don’t care what you are, being thrown into the garbage is an ignominious end, and it’s a shame. Godspeed, M’sieu Raton.
Dorothy, the clematis is getting very tangly above the fence. We’re going to have to pull the vines apart and
train them down onto the fence if she’s not going to kill passers-by.
It was about then that Glinda texted me to ask if I’d gotten the severe weather alert on my phone. Just as I was saying I hadn’t, it popped up. She told me it had rained like crazy in the Loop. There’d been nothing around here even though the sky to the east of us looked pretty threatening. Out west, which is where our weather comes from (There’s a big factory in Rosemont.) it looked nice and sunny, big fluffy clouds and all. I sent her photos of the rhododendron, which has ten buds opening and only five that haven’t shown any color at all, and of
Josephine who, though she lagged behind some of the others in actually putting out a first bloom, had
suddenly gone crazy during the night and opened half a dozen blossoms.
Hermia and Mary, lush as they are, remain resolutely budded. Glinda observed later this evening that Hermia looks as if she aspires to be the Sleeping Beauty rose, forming a thick hedge wherever she grows. There’s a reason why Fleur hides under her. Mary is over four feet tall now. She’s one of those grandifloras, a long-stemmed lovely.
Morgan? Droopy. She’s going to need a new trellis and some trimming. Mistress Masham? Looking good, though still small. Rita? Gone. There’s no way she’s going to come back now. Kate and Karen, and Zephie in front all need some good, solid feeding. Kate and Zephie are looking quite pale. On the other hand, the fairy rose in front, Diana, is in competition with Hermia for most impenetrable wall of roses in the universe.
|Josephine again. You really should smell
this rose to know what a beauty she is.
By the time I’d finished taking pictures and sending them to Glinda, the sky had turned that eerie greenish gray that you see before storms, when the trees seem to glow against it. I thought it might be time to go inside but then I caught sight of Fleur again, eating grass in the next yard.
She nibbled for a bit, then saw a sparrow near the lilac, jumped up and rushed at it. Of course it flew away, so she ran in a circle, then ducked under the fence and into the yard beyond.
I look at her now and think how odd it is that she was the littlest, shyest baby of the three born in our raised bed. She still doesn’t want to leave, but I think now it’s more a case of knowing where the good munchies are.