Fire in the Wild Woods

The above photo is a shot taken of the woods across the road from my house. Beneath these tangled limbs is where my woodland garden is located. The fiery glow fortunately comes from the setting sun, approximately 93 million miles away, and my garden is quite safe!

I took that shot with my telephoto lens zoomed to its max. Below is the same view, taken with less zoom:

Another shot, across from my house, with the sunset reflected in the upper woodlands:

Earlier in the day, before the sunset, I took this photo of the woodland trees, viewed through the arch near my patio. The shrubs in the foreground are azaleas and yaupon hollies:

Winter, stripping the leaves, reveals the thickness of the wild woods. The forest has begrudged me a few paths and planting areas, but when I am gone, vines and woody tentacles will quickly reclaim the land I borrowed. There was an old saying that a squirrel could enter the state of Alabama on its northern border and travel from tree to tree, all the way to the coast without touching the ground. I believe a modern squirrel could do the same, though he might have to be creative in choosing his route.

I like the woods. They shelter my garden, and they provide homes for an abundance of wildlife. I love when the birds come out of the woods to visit my bird feeders. Below are a cardinal, a white throated Sparrow, and in the last photo, a black-capped chickadee, who seems to be asking the sparrow if he can have some too!

In a couple of months the bare branches will all have fresh new leaves, and the tangled mess of limbs will look simply lush. Every chance I get now, I walk the property to find signs of spring. But the evergreen plants that have persisted through the dreary winter catch my attention. The nandinas are spectacular. Note the white berries a single nandina in the woodland garden produces. All the others have the more common red berries.

And here are a few other plants that continue to provide winter interest:Top row: Variegated pittisporum; Autumn fern. Bottom row: Heuchera villosa 'Autumn Bride'; Azalea.

The urn in the lady garden still contains the remains of last year's Boston fern. The vignette, with the rusty bicycle in the background, has winter appeal:

Spring is coming, but when I see my wild woods lit up in the burning sunsets of winter, or when I admire plants that provide interest when others are dormant, I do not mind if this season lingers for a few more weeks. Yes, I said weeks!

Summer Skies

I like to watch the sky. Summer skies can be crystal blue or gray or white hot, and sometimes all in the same day. I can get lost in the clouds, dreaming of heavenly worlds or mystical creatures that float above the earth. Sometimes I search for angels. I have never seen one, but I know a man who says he once did.

As a gardener, it's one of the first things I do every day: open the door and look up to evaluate the weather. The summer sky is ever shifting, and as the day progresses, I watch the horizon.

Will it rain today? Is the hazy sky a prelude to afternoon thunderstorms? Will those black clouds bring hail and high winds?

Here in Helena we get about sixty inches of rain each year. Last week we had a fierce storm which brought down a large dead limb from an oak tree. I had eyed that limb before. It was up very high, and I knew someday it would come crashing to earth. It was about twenty feet long, and it landed in the middle of a path, just missing all the nearby hydrangea shrubs.

The days are long now, but around eight o'clock in the evening a pink and golden glow begins to spread from the west. It shines over the garden and house, tinting the world in rosy tones, a gentle hint at first, then more fervently painting the end of day.I like to walk in the garden then, listening to the rise and fall of cricket song and watching the lightening bugs twinkle in the fading light. Soon it will be time to go inside, to prepare for another day.

May beautiful skies shine over you and bring blessings to your land.   Deborah