#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
Bugle Weed, Carpet Bugle
. . . that purple bugleweed can replace a lawn and foster bees; iris, prone to rhizome rot and borers, like dry soil; daylilies, if you divide them every leap year, will never let you down; that your best garden may come from plants that plant themselves—volunteers!—columbine, buttercups, bachelor buttons, coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, spurge— for a weed is only named as such if you don’t like it. . .
~ Excerpt from Sara Backer, “A Stranger Asks”
We have a wonderful wide patch of bugle weed that blooms in mid-May every year near the base of a tree. It calls the bees. I went past it this morning, up early on a short walk. There was so much to do in the yard with clean up. Frank and I worked in the humid air, growing hot. Satisfaction from the night before. The graduate stayed over; my in-laws departed; such a bustle of morning. A baby shower to attend for my niece, which I got to go to with my daughters, another festive summer celebration. Then, when I got some time for myself, I walked to Farm Pond, which was very crowded in the intense heat of the day. I took a cold dip and then a very very long nap in the shade. Even the happy and loud rambunctious children running around my head could not keep me awake. Then, I woke to massive burst of thunder over my head. Ah! I have missed my good swim I’d hoped to take. A scramble among us to exit the beach; some braver and slower than others, like me, who swiftly hiked back to the parking lot, calling my daughter a few minutes away for a ride. What a summer storm swept up! The heat broke, and the cold rain fell on my bare arms and feet as I walked up the road toward home, thunder rumbling, wind blowing. My daughter appeared, just as I jumped in the car another blast of thunder at my back! She could barely see to drive in the rain and the hail and the wind tossing the green leaves out of the trees. But we made it quickly home, and the storm passed after giving every living thing nearby a good drink. After dinner, a sweet gathering by a fire in the yard with all of my children and Frank. Our personal, quieter, special time with the graduate, to offer our good wishes. It was dark when the fire burned out and the mosquitoes came, and we went indoors for our well deserved rests.