The Color Blue

In The Land of the Crooked Shed

There is something other worldly about the pale blue color of asters in the evening light of a mountain forest's shadow. The dimensions of space and time grow distorted. I don't have the words to describe being immersed in something so peculiar and possibly unique at the moment. Click on a picture for the slide show. Go wander where Monet visits on the gentle breeze of a blue meadow.

Farewell Miss Collar

She was loved, a one human cat her entire life.

Back into the blue asters we wander.

Back into the earth that made us.

Down to the Great Lawn where the earth is deep and soft.

Farewell Miss Collar. You were loved with a posh life in the forest. There can be a memorial fire on another day. I need more sticks. They will fall, and the weather is turning cooler.

Button and Dinah had a chance to say goodbye. Then they ventured down for the burial.

Through the looking glass

That is where you will find her.

They buried cats with the Pharaohs.

Back into the blue waters.

Into the firepit bindi of Creation. 

Then the sticks fell in a mighty blow and the power went out for over twelve hours before I could finish the post. There will be sticks to pick up. Lots of sticks and branches.

Farewell Miss Collar. Into the blue asters we wander.

It Is Her Time

His name was Dr. Keith Reason. He was Ted Cruz's doppelganger. Life is the Twilight Zone. He said it is Miss Collars time to go. Her abdomen is filled with fluid and all the possibilities for that are fatal. I can do it now, he said.

I brought her back home for? It is time for Miss Collar to go.

For one more day of fresh mountain air. I'm not ready just yet it seems. I need to prepare. Collar appears content enough. The blue asters are just starting to bloom.

Everything has its time. The voodoo lilies tumble down as the days turn short. Just to the right are two new Paw Paw trees I accidently purchased. They will be planted along the edges of the future Turnip Fields next door.

The blue asters are starting to bloom. That is when, fourteen years ago, a mama cat and two kittens wandered out of the forest and into my life. It took a few months to get Collar's baby picture. She was a wild thing. Of the three, she is the one who stayed the longest.

Fly Away

You never know when your own moment of rapture will occur. One thing is certain, that day is getting closer.

How big will the heiau get before no more rocks are added to the pile?

What will become of the meadow as I tinker? This year I moved starts of Rodgersia and Syneilesis down to more sun. Some Ligularia fell out of the ground and followed me home. Everything is doing well in the wet bottom sunshine.

The meadows are constantly changing. I tinker. Nature provides reality.

Miss Collar is going back to the vet tomorrow. She is not well. I need to know if it is her time.

Reason.

I had a free-range childhood.

I found reason outside in the wild places.

4001

It is Bloom Day in the tall flower meadow and September has some of the best bloom of the year. Shall we wander out for a look?

 

I contemplated taking a bunch of flower closeups to show the huge variety of plants that bloom at the end of summer, but it seemed like too much work. The vibration of Monet lurks in the lower light of shortening days. Crisp closeups are hard to capture.

One flower doesn't say quite the same thing as a huge drift of Joe Pye anyway. The colors and textures of the big picture come alive in the lower light of a mountain's shadow.

Dusk is such a fine time to stroll the gardens with the meadow in full bloom.

Except for the blue asters. Another massive, end of season bloom is yet to come.

There are drifts of White Snakeroot and White Wood Aster across the entire mountain top. Several species of Goldenrod are in bloom.

The shiny berries of Spikenard.

Miss Dinah joined me. She feels safer that way. I have seen a coyote twice this month. Miss Collar is not allowed out unobserved. Collar can't run anymore. Or hear.

The Tall Flower Meadow is in high bloom. There are always even more flowers to be found at Bloom Day Headquarters.

4000

Fifteen years and a few short months later, this is post number 4000 from Outside Clyde. Welcome to the wild cultivated gardens.

It is perhaps noticeable that I have become a bit bored with the blog. I am feeling a bit bored with the gardens too. They don't need me. This is a very good thing for my approaching decrepitude.

A comfortable routine of editing and maintenance dictated by season and a willingness to let nature be in the time of vegetation, allows for a lot of down time with garden chores. The gardens don't need me to look beautiful. An open path will do.

The gardens bones are planted. I tinker now. New interesting plants still follow me home and get added to the mix. They must compete and endure winter to survive. Vernonia lettermanii, a miniature Ironweed, decided to bloom this year. That is not always the case.

I walk through wet meadows before it rains again looking in vain for something to pull. I find Elephantopus carolinianus is self-sowing and wandering about. A pale blue mist to mark the change of season could wash through the meadows one day. The Elephant's Foot is competing. I have been transplanting seedlings further afield.

There will always be Ironweed.

With Angelica.

Four thousand posts covering fifteen years of the development and growth of the wild cultivated gardens have been sent out on the interwebs for the world to read and see. It's all in the archives.

This is Ku'ulei 'Aina at 15, as seen from the dining room window in a gentle rain, where I tinker in nature's abundance.