It’s time to talk about the tiny garden on the north fence. It was created to give the Chinquapin oak more fertile ground in which to thrive. All seems to be going well. The upright rosemary is having a hard time, but most everyone else is doing fine. I have noticed something odd, however, and it has to do with the plant I like to call a Yellow Bells.

It’s sticker burr season. I think mine are sentient. I know the common ways they get into the house. Pants. Socks. Shoes. Pets. But we have no indoor pets, and I’ve found so many recently in the house that mine have to be traveling on their own. It’s either that or I’m being inordinately careless when it comes to my shoes and socks. I’m going with smart burrs.

There’s a plant growing in the middle of my driveway, with tiny, tiny white flowers, each touched with a dab of yellow, bunched around a lavender seed. You can see them on your hands and knees quite easily. I have no idea what prompted me to look closer, but I did and now I can’t unsee it. It’s attractive, and I believe I’ll try to grow more of it. It’s called Texas Frogfruit. It will fit right in with the Straggler Daisies, also known as Horseherb, that occupy most of my yard.

Another new plant has come to the garden, Ironweed, again courtesy of my arborist son. As with the bluebells, this is their second year but first to bloom. Maybe it was all the rain. Whatever the cause, the flowers are out and they look great. Now we hope they propagate. It’s not always as easy as one might think. Nature is relatively capricious that way. For instance, the false mallows he planted long ago, are still just two.

It’s been a wet June. Last night I woke up to thunder and lightning and found the rain gauges nearly full this morning, registering close to three inches. That’s a hard rain. My freshly mown grass likes it as do the plants. The Barbados cherry is now bearing fruit. I refer to it in the singular, but I’m fairly certain there are now seven or eight plants clumped together. Too bad the cherries are only slightly larger than pinheads.

The yard is in need of edging, which means grass is thick around the edges in various spots. But I got a new book the other day, and I’d much rather sit and read. Of course, that’s not really the responsible thing to do, but I wonder if I’m aging out of the need to be responsible, and is it really responsible? After all I am getting soft around the edges so maybe my yard can be soft around the edges. We’d be a matched pair.

I like some of the little vagrant plants that call my gardens home. One’s that caught my eye for several seasons is cutleaf evening primrose. It grows close to the ground with lovely little yellow flowers that are pinkish when they close up. Several plants call the north fence garden home. It makes sense they’d show up since the ground is freshly tilled and I’ve taken no steps to stop wild seeds from sprouting.

My wildflowers are certainly enjoying the cool embrace of our recent wet weather. The Lemon Bee Balm is coming up along with some Queen Annes Lace that was in one of the wildflower packets I sowed. Not many consider the Lace a wildflower. But there it is so I’ll take it. It bears a small resemblance in its flowers and leaves to hedge parsley, which I pull from my gardens when I can. We’ll see how the new visitor matures.

With the appearance of the sun, after days of rain, you can almost hear the engines revving in the gardens, and the flower’s shouting, “Let’s go, boys, time for some photosynthesis.” Water, light and carbon dioxide are ready to come crashing together. Roots will get fed, oxygen will pour out, and plants will raise arms of new growth and shout, “Alleluia!” These are the days of plenty.

I love flowers that thrive and surprise. My scarlet sage, the mealy sage, the spiderworts, gregg’s mist flowers, and the trees my son planted. All came as unknowns but took up residence once in the ground as though it were the culmination of their life’s work. Now I have another. The Scarlet Leather Flower (Clematis texensis). Gifted to me by a friend, for two seasons it pondered its future, before springing to life this spring. The vine climbed. The flowers bloomed. And now it’s showtime. As of this writing, the vine is up in the neighboring crape myrtle.

We’ve had days of rain and might have a few more. But the creek beds are still dry, and the lake levels low so no one’s celebrating. I think the storm to turn that tide will have to be epic, and even then, it might still fall short. Methinks it will be hard to overcome decreased rainfall and a population of thirty million people who like to drink water. That’s a lot of straws in the aquifer, and more are coming every day.

I bought nine plants yesterday. Four marigolds, three Spanish lavenders, and two prostrate rosemary’s. I planted them in groups because I think it will help them thrive to have a companion of the same species close at hand. After all, they grew up that way. I did the same last year with mealy sage a friend gifted me. I planted them in two groups, and they’re thriving.

Over the winter I spread wildflower seeds in my wildflower garden, basically it’s a patch of untended ground given over to what most would consider weeds. The first bloom to appear after the Bluebonnets was a California Poppy. It was a nice surprise. I hope more show up, and I may order some seeds to give it company because it is an attractive bloom, and I think it would look nice in my front yard.

It’s gardening time again. Yesterday, I planted a patch of Inland Sea Oats a friend gifted me, and I trimmed the deadwood from the Turks Caps along the front porch. The latter was tedious work and previously handled by my late wife. I usually remonstrated her with the remark that no one trimmed deadwood in the forest. But being on my own now, I see the value of the clean lines and a fresh start. I’ll do the lantanas today.

At the moment, it’s fair and 41. Yesterday we hit the nineties. One day you’re up, the next day you’re down. At least it’s not snowing, but we might touch freezing tonight. Not what the new buds on the plants need. But it’s only for one night, and it might not be long enough to do any damage. Most of the trees have been through this before. They’ll bounce back.

We, my arborist son and I, planted a stand of Loblolly pines in the back lots. Luckily, they grow an average of 24 inches a year. So, I might get to see them grow to a decent height, ten feet in five years, twenty in ten. Maturity is out of the question because I’m what you might call mature myself. And I don’t think another 40 years is in the cards. And I can’t say, but you never know, because I’m pretty sure I do.

We planted five oaks when we moved into this house sixteen years ago. Two Chinquapin. Four Lacy. And a Burr. The Lacys and one Chinquapin are part of the original planting. The Burr is the second of its kind, as is one of the Chinquapin. The current batch is doing well. I stand in their shade, strain to see the tops while there, and two of the Lacys are starting to overtop the drive, while another offers shade to our visitor parking spot.

A swarm of Monarch butterflies stopped by yesterday to visit. They dined on the blooms of the Evergreen Sumac growing at the east corner of the south porch. It’s a first, and I was happy to be of service as they made their way south to breed. Milkweed may be a favorite food, but they sure seemed happy with the Sumac’s flowers. It will be interesting to see if there are more today.

Love is in the air. At least for my orb weavers. Two female garden spiders are hanging out at my place. One is in the dog run, and the other is out by the pool. Each is flanked by webs spun by their male counterparts. I don’t know how they decide to get together or who comes calling on whom. All I know is the victorious male will die shortly after the deed is done. I wonder if he knows that? Does die happy? The female will then lay her eggs in a nice sack and probably pass on sometime after the first frost.

I’m in a pickle. I have a spot on a back lot where I want to create a little garden area. I’ve set up some old fence panels to act as a trellis. I’ve got seeds for vines to grow there. I have numerous flowering plants at my disposal. In the center, however, I want a tree, but if I want it to grow to any size while I’m still alive, it will have to be a fast grower, and I’m more a fan of slow. The latter are sturdy trees with fine grained wood, and long lived. The former are brittle, drop branches, and die quick.