Hurricane Irene came by

Hurricane Irene came into my neighborhood in the dead of Saturday night, bringing torrential rain and high winds. Unable to sleep, I repeatedly peered into my backyard. In the darkness, I could discern the gigantic horse chestnut, maples, and white pines swaying like rag dolls. "Please don't break," I muttered fervently. I heard the shish, shish of the rain as it beat down relentlessly and the whoo, whoo of the roaring wind.

Sunday morning dawned bright and clear--what a contrast to the day before. No, dear Reader, these trees did not topple. They stood tall. The ground, though, was littered with big and small branches and a gazillion twigs. Mop-up operation began and continues. So far, I've collected four bags of evidence of Irene's visit. Lots more twigs and branches to bag. Mmm ... this is a multi-day operation. It did not take long for the rain water from Irene to soak into the ground because summer has been so dry. All in all, my garden suffered no real damage from Irene. In fact, it received much needed rain.

However, many people throughout the east coast suffered heavy damage and my thoughts are with them. If your car was crushed by a tree, house siding blown off, roof cratered, and beach-front house washed away, it doesn't matter what category of hurricane Irene was. So let it not be said, as some have, that it was only a category one hurricane; be thankful instead that it is nothing more than that.   

Image by NASA Goddard Photo and Video via Flickr

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Herbs ... and Scarborough fair

My garden always includes a few herbs, not because I use them much in cooking ... well, maybe, just a little. I simply enjoy their intense fragrance and delicate flowers. Over the  years, they have become a part of my life. The prolific Greek oregano, gift of a friend, comes back year after year as does the shade-loving woodruff. Now, that woodruff has an interesting history. I originally planted it on a slight slope in the front garden. My expectation was that it would colonize the slope and free me from cutting grass there. Didn't work that way! For years, the poor thing barely survived. Finally, I dug  it up and replanted in a flat, shady area in the backyard. Lo! it flourished and multiplied. I planted the cilantro because its leaves are often used in Asian cooking. A reminder of home, you could say. Then there are the parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. The parsley, like the cilantro,  has to be planted anew each spring. The other three occasionally die and I replace them faithfully. I planted parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme because of a song--yes, a song. What song? Why, Simon and Garfunkel's Scarborough Fair! I am a great fan of theirs, by the way.

Click on the link to enjoy the song, uploaded by sardineunderacan on Nov. 9, 2008. Thanks sardineunderacan! 

Uploaded by sardineunderacan on Nov 9, 2008

http://youtu.be/nWu6ney5hYQ

Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme 
Photo: SockFoon

Not enough rainfall ... small pears

The weather has been ultra hot and dry in July and, so far, August is not much better. The sickle pears on the tree are small and scanty. Normally by this time,  they would be nearly twice as big and abundant. So, all my fertilizing from fall to spring did not yield a happy harvest. No pears to share with the neighbors and squirrels and to make pear sauce this year. But all is not lost. I have happy memories of a healthy pear tree in spring showing off its luxuriant leaves and flowers.

All this thought about a lack of rain and small pears brought to mind what a Greek tour guide said to me about the effect of Santorini's normally low rainfall on the island's produce. They tend to be small. The grapes that I saw, for example, were miniatures. I guess Mother nature is the ultimate boss.

Sickle pear
Photo: SockFoon

The prodigal pink azalea

Years ago, I bought several small azalea bushes (so I don't have  to dig big holes :)). One was a showy red, another a gorgeous tomato red, yet another a dainty pink, and, finally, a pure white. All but the pink azalea bloomed unfailingly every spring. The pink one, a May bloomer, I was told, blossomed just once. Despite regular dosages of bloom boosters, it just didn't bloom. Two years ago, I had one of the hated foundation bushes by the pink azalea cut down. As a result, the pinkie received more hours of direct sunlight. I kept my fingers crossed. At last, it burst forth with flowers in late May, an abundance of dainty pink against small, light green leaves! Take a look at this pressed pink azalea. Isn't it sweet?

Pressed pink azalea
Photo: SockFoon