Forbidden Flowers

Don called me to the window before full light the other morning to point out the large doe that was helping herself to our daylilies.  Apparently she didn't mind the Deer Off that I had sprayed them with recently.  She had eaten about half of the tender new shoots, and didn't move when I first stepped out the door, but when I said "Hey!" in my sternest voice, she hurried off.  I've dubbed her Lily and it's impossible to get too mad at her, because if I had to choose between daylilies and deer, I would most certainly take the deer.

Then, late that evening, for the first time this year, a doe brought her twin fawns into the field near the house where we feed them.  They were tiny and stayed, for the most part, close to their mother, but one of them was quite intrigued with a gobbler that dwarfed them.  

Last night, while fireflies danced in the meadow, Don and I waited for the full moon to rise over the eastern hills.  When it first appeared, it was huge, and we both drew in our breath involuntarily.  Not far from us, in the dim light, stood 5 deer, and they were watching with us.  For such company, a few daylilies seem a very reasonable price.

  

A Place to Swim

The water in the cove near us, where Barley often swims, is up in the trees now, and it's still covered with flotsam, so this morning before breakfast I took him across the lake where the water is clear.  I threw sticks for him, and he swam after them, shaking vigorously after each retrieve.  When he was tired, he trotted up to the car with his stick, still dripping like a loaded sponge.  The sun was just up, lighting the clouds to the south, and a small breeze made the morning most pleasant.  There was just enough time to take a few pictures before breakfast.  These were taken from near the Theodosia bridge, and to give a little perspective on the high water, the small tree out in the middle of the water belongs on the bank.

The lake at 37 feet above normal is beautiful, and strikingly different.  Barley seems blissfully unaware of all this.  He'll be content as long as there's still a place to swim after a stick.

Wild Bergamot Tea

Free Flowers

Abundant rain followed by a string of hot days has resulted in a better than usual wildflower crop this year.  These flowers, in shades of blue and purple, presented themselves to me along the road as Barley and I walked the other morning, so I brought them home and photographed them in front of the flat screen TV.  They are labeled below. I love the larkspur, holding their wings as if they are going to lift off momentarily.  The wild bergamot always remind me of aliens, with delicate fringes at the ends of their antennae, and a minty fragrance.  On the left of the bouquet is one flower I haven't been able to find in my wildflower books.  It is quite delicate, like baby's breath, and it's light lavender blossoms are shaped like bells with scalloped edges.  If you know its name, I'd love to hear from you.