The view from my kitchen window in the early morning light.
A perfectly symmetrical Monarch sunning herself on grape leaves.
Saturday.
Photo by Enchanted Seashells. Taken with my Canon Rebel T3i
After The Caterpillar…
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Tag Archives: garden
Home Sweet Home
In quarantine? Isolation? Distancing?
Happy to have a home to go home to, no matter what it looks like, that’s the message I’m getting from this little bird, being grateful for what we have.
Every spring, for years and years, this dedicated vireo mom builds and rebuilds her home in my garden. If I count them all up, I’ve been grandma to approximately one hundred babies.
As you can see, her home looks a bit shabby. It really needs to be repainted and I attempted to fix the bottom with string because it was starting to fall apart. I’m not much of a handyman (woman) but it’s OK for now.
Going home
Checking out the view
Breakfast is ready!
Rock Rose
I love roses of all kinds but this one has nothing to do with Rowdy Rosie; a nickname I acquired in another life during a brief stay in Steamboat Springs. (Read about it here: https://enchantedseashells.com/2013/07/02/the-story-of-rowdy-rosie/)
This one’s a hardy garden rose that does well in drought conditions.
Cistus is a genus of flowering plants in the rockrose family Cistaceae, of which there are about twenty varieties.
It’s a perennial shrub found on dry or rocky soils throughout the Mediterranean region, from Morocco and Portugal through to the Middle East, and also on the Canary Islands; they do really well in my SoCal garden.
I’ve had really good success propagating them, too. Here’s how I do it:
- Snip 6-inch cuttings off stems that have not yet flowered.
- Remove lower pairs of leaves, keeping only the topmost one or two pairs at the crest.
- Dipping the cuttings in powdered rooting hormones spurs root growth.
Perfect for a hot summer garden with no rain in sight.
“…that which we call a rose…
…would smell as sweet.
First Robert Burns, and now Shakespeare?
During this Covid-19 pandemic, I seem to be living in an alternate universe of poetry and literature. Pretty soon, my brain will start to spontaneously remember all my years of French, and I’ll be ready for my trip to France to pay homage to the one and only Coco Chanel.
Once upon a time, in another lifetime, I memorized Juliet’s lines, Act 2, Scene 2, for an audition.
Nope, I didn’t win the role that time, but the words have never left me.
It’s a bit of a cliche considering my name, but a rose is a rose is a rose, according to Gertrude Stein.
JULIET
O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.
’Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? It is nor hand nor foot,
Nor arm nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other word would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for thy name, which is no part of thee,
Take all myself.
My love’s like a red, red rose
Robert Burns, of course.
I’ve been posting a lot about the beautiful flowers in my garden because I know how short lived it al is and I want to enjoy it while I can…soon the hot sun and blistering Santa Ana winds will dry up all the lush blooms. We had so much rain this season that it really looks like a floral fairyland at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
Another day, another rose, a very red one, not yet open.
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
O my luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June;
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I;
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a’ the seas gang dry.
Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi’ the sun:
O I will love thee still, my dear,
While the sands o’ life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve,
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my luve,
Though it were ten thousand mile.
And almost completely gone but still drunk with a dancer’s graceful elegance:
Self-isolating roses
All the rain we had in SoCal a couple weeks ago caused my roses to grow like crazy.
Planted at least six feet apart in order to comply with all social distancing orders, here’s a couple of little bouquets displayed in a Waterford crystal sugar and creamer, just because…
…and my magical secret garden with a working windmill…
…as well as an afternoon visit for snacks from Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, also complying with social distancing directives!
I hope you’re enjoying a lovely weekend!
The Day I Caressed a Butterfly
That was today, actually.
It was around noon. I was in the garden, watering because it’s uncomfortably hot here in SoCal. Not as bad as Paris, cos there’s still a bit of an ocean breeze, but HOT.
A pretty orange and black spotted Monarch butterfly began to follow the spray of water from the hose, and she and I had a little chat.
Well, she listened while I talked to her.
“Hey, pretty girl, are you thirsty?”
By way of response, she floated to the ground and folded up her wings like a beautiful fan. Or like pressed together hands in namaste.
“Are you OK?” “Are you injured anywhere?” At the same time I wondered how in the world I could take a butterfly to the emergency vet.
I turned off the water and crouched down to get a closer look.
“What do you need? Are you having a little rest?”
Again, no response, but I inched closer and slowly sat down, hardly daring to breathe.
We stayed that way for a moment or two, each of us motionless.
“Can I touch you?” I asked. “I won’t hurt your wings, I promise.”
(By the way, the powder on the wings of a butterfly or moth is actually tiny scales made from modified hairs, and it doesn’t actually damage them if they’re touched.)
Ever so tentatively I reached out my right hand and ever so gently touched the charcoal gray folded up underside of her fan wings, and then I simply sat still as a statue.
After a few seconds in which time stopped, she opened her wings once, twice, three times, and then lifted off the ground and fluttered away.
Thank you” I whispered, and held my heart to keep the love from spilling out.
It was nothing short of an amazing encounter, don’t you agree? One of my most enchanting and enchanted days.
Gangsta Butterfly
Rain of any kind in SoCal is something to be grateful for because for a brief moment, we can enjoy green and lush hills and gardens.
Now that we’re back to sunshiny blue skies again, I took pics of the lawn ‘cos it’ll never look this velvety smooth again.
Even though I have the flu or some version of it in spite of a flu shot, no way would I miss spending an entire day working in the garden. Dirty hands, twigs in my hair, muddy shoes. HEAVENLY.
But I wasn’t alone.
This happy gangsta butterfly not only followed me everywhere I was, but sat on my head for a few marvelous seconds, too! It’s too bad I couldn’t snap a pic but it was impossible, so you’ll have to trust me. Fluttering and flapping wings all around my face and head. And listen to the birds! So much joy.
Was there a message or a lesson the butterfly was attempting to convey? Or maybe just a shared joie de vivre?
We can coexist in peace, my friendly Mourning Cloak butterfly.
Yes, s/he was upside down or maybe I was upside down? It’s all in your perspective. Totally LOVING the apple blossoms.
Knowing that our rains are brief, all the plants put their best foot forward. The rosemary is a riot of blue flowers and bees.
Bees, so many bees!
Happy all planets direct and Super Blood Wolf Moon eclipse tonight!
Garden Treasures. Winter Gratitude.
Freshly picked gifts from Mother Earth in all the brilliant colors of the season.
Red leaf lettuce, peppery arugula, baby romaine, and baby kale fill a pristine white bowl.
Accompanied by steamed brown rice and a glass of crisp chardonnay, it’s a purely simple and fulfilling dinner.
Drama In The ‘Hood
For the last week or so, there’s been something otherwordly going on in the gardens at Casa de Enchanted Seashells.
At approximately 6:30 on another beautiful and shiny blue sky morning, I was on the verge of that first gratifying sip of freshly ground and brewed French roast coffee (no Starbucks for me, I like to be in total control of my java) and as I looked out the kitchen window, THIS was perched on my patio umbrella:
I could barely hold my camera steady as you can see by the blurriness. I mean, that was just a few feet away from me!
As she flew away from the deck to the ash tree, she was joined by another one!
Now there were two hawks!
And they were VERY interested in this juvenile crow who was all alone, very unconcerned, blithely eating his fill of mulberries one by one from the tree and the grass:
Hello, Mr. Crow!
Just hanging out…along with one of the bunnies that lives under the deck…
The bunny ran away,
For a couple of hours, there was a lot of drama, some of it happened so fast, I couldn’t catch it with a camera. The hawks hung around, flying from one spot to the next, here on the roof of the shed…
…walking around on the GROUND in front of the shed!!!
And picking up a mulberry leaf that had fallen on the lawn. He flew away with it in his beak! Again, sorry for the bad photos, but it was impossible to capture it all perfectly.
There seemed to be a sort of relationship emerging between the crow and the hawks.. Although typically they’re not known to be friendly with each other, but when it does occur, there are mystical and magical meanings attached to the encounters.
First, the hawks would swoop and dive at the crow who seemed fearless; totally ignoring the faux attack, but then did the same exact thing to the two hawks perched on that same branch. It looked like they were playing and having fun; there was no aggression.
And then they shared a branch together. All in harmony!
I did a little research on the phenomenon of crows and hawks playing, and found this: http://www.thenerge.com/bird-nerge/crows-and-hawks-playing/
Crazy, huh?
This similar scenario replayed for the next few mornings; the crow is still here, but I haven’t seen the hawks.
However, one thing’s for sure, it doesn’t take much to make me happy, but I think I really really need to hone my photography skills. Hee hee.
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 