Things That Go Crack In The Light

I am not in charge of most of what goes on out there. The best you could say is I have a strong influence on things. The plants, the animals, the weathers, all go on about their business completely mindless of me.

At any moment lily bulbs could be no more.

I plant things with a notion in mind and sometimes get lucky when all the players cooperate. One year perhaps, the liatris, yucca and Feather Reed grass will all bloom in unison. The foliage works for now.

A tiny Loesel's Twayblade orchid, Liparis loeselii, has decided it will live here. It has even decided to become two. I hope it decides to get bigger.

It took a little editing to get to this point. It took a little encouraging to get hosta planted in large masses instead of here there and everywhere.

Deep in the forest near the far back corner where the Yellow Lady Slipper lives is a place in the ridge top garden where my maintenance gardener self is calmed. It is possible.

It is possible for a Japaneses iris, Iris ensata, to bloom while engulfed in the Lush. Given some elbow room, it might do even better.

But many things just sow where they want and I let them be.

That's how it is for for most of the wild things. I decided a long time ago that the wisest way to garden here was if it wasn't annoying or in the way, just let it be. I have ended up with some most delightful native plants.

I love this little grass, Danthonia compressa. It is small, has narrow leaves, attractive bloom spikes and grows in a nice clump. It's also very easy to pull.

The are countless sedges growing wild. This is the first year I have taken the time to really look at the Porcupine Sedge, Carex hystericina. I like it. I have found three species with variations on the porcupine theme.

The sedges and grasses make good filler for the bottom layer of the Lush.

When a giant asparagus spear rises out of the ground, the wise thing to do is wait and see what it does. It makes little round balls of flowers and grabs on to things for support with vining tendrils.

Inhale deeply. What is it? Smilax herbacea, Carrion Flower, a real botanical oddity. I think I'll keep it.

The plants go about their business. All kind animals do to. The digger has been in the dung piles and in the Great Lawn. I do believe I have a tunneling mole now in the same general area where the tunneling voles spent the winter dining on the roots and tubers of more plants than I was aware of. I think a few liatris and coneflowers have gone missing.

Coming down the driveway this afternoon I had never seen the glass table top in the Great Lawn catch the light quite like that. When I got down there a bit later it was because the glass had cracked clean through and was leaning on the table top behind it. I sure did not see that this morning when I took a jug of water down there for a newly relocated Doghobble.

How on earth did that happen? There were no obvious clues. Earthquake? Collision? Stress fracture? Wind gust?

I replanted the glass and left the smaller broken off piece in the ground where it was for added texture. Even the junk art has a mind of its own.

Button, do you know anything about this?

What if I do?

The only sign of recent activity was the rotten iris log had been attacked again. It isn't long for this world. The big Pileated Woodpeckers could shred that log in a few hours. I didn't see any feathers on the ground or skid marks on the glass. The tile table top behind it should prevent fly throughs.

The crinum bulb I thought had been eaten by the voles is alive. It survived a milder winter. The other bulbs I planted closer to the somewhere intended are up. One of them even has a bloom stalk.

This year there will be lilies. I influenced that outcome.