How Does Our Garden Grow?

You know what we haven't talked about in quite some time?  My flowers.  (That's right, Derek.  Dismissed.  You may go.)


After an unusually hot week- in the 90's and humid- some of the daylilies are finally opening up, unlike the residents of Iowa, who act like they are dying if it gets anywhere above 89.  This would be comical if I were not now one of those people.  I have officially acclimated to a cooler climate.

Remember how my mom's husband's niece (or... something) let my mom have a bunch of daylilies, some of which were then donated to The Cause, The Cause being packing as many free flowers into our yard as humanly possible?  Well, we planted those a couple years ago, and only two types flowered, making me think I'd have to transplant all those under the giant Tree of Doom to a sunnier locale.  But nay!  This year nearly all have bloomed!

"Supersonic Prize."  Who the heck names these things?

"Firepower" 

Not a daylily, but tiger lilies are one of my sister Steph's favorites.  Who can deny Stephanie?

Our coneflowers, one of my favorite flowers to watch because of all the activity they're home to every year, are also in full bloom.  Today it was this little guy that caught my attention, as he went from bloom to bloom, walking the full circle of tiny, yellow, starry... anthers?  Stamen?  Elementary school science was so long ago and I can't remember my kids' birthdays half the time.  Anyway, he circuited those, um, pollen holder thingies, on each cone before moving on to the next.

So, uh... anyone have any idea what that thing is?  The green + black and white stripes on his body threw me off; is that a bee or not?  Additionally I can provide you with:  He was pretty heavily pollen-laden, and he could fly.  Amateur biologist, I am not.

My biggest container of flowers already looks pretty scraggly this time a year; June is really its best time:

And now, another case of Name That Flower!

These began blooming in late May and flowered heavily for a full month.  They're maybe a foot tall, and not very fragrant, at least that I can tell.  The thing is, I know I planted this last summer or maybe the one before; it started out as a small, $0.99 perennial and has obviously taken off this year.  I'm good at the planting, not so good at the keeping track of just what it is that I'm plunking into the ground.  This same concept is the reason we don't have a large number of children.

Ruuuuun!

Near our house, crouched in a tree, is a large insect nest.

It's been there for months.  I spent weeks mistaking it for a piece litter, believing it to be a plastic grocery sack tangled in the winter branches of the tree.  Then a friend mentioned that she couldn't figure out why the City hadn't done something about that massive beehive, it was in a park, wasn't it, and right next to a school bus stop.

Since then I've ventured right up to the trunk several times, inspecting the hive, as if I'll be able to tell anything by a closer look.  Here is what my expert hive/nest observation skills have netted thus far:

• It's really big.
• It has one circular opening.
• The outside seems to be made of a papery substance.

That's right.  I took pictures for you.

I'm not actually convinced it is a beehive; couldn't it just as likely be a wasp's nest?  If it's a beehive, I hope the City can get some kind of bee expert, um, person, in there to relocate it.  Shouldn't they be doing that now, while it's cold?  Do bees experience a season of dormancy in the winter?  Are you beginning to see I should never have gone near this thing?  If it is a wasp's nest, I say kill them all, although a quick google search tells me that some people want to Save The Wasps.  I'm not convinced; just thinking about the way they drone around with those creepy legs dangling underneath them makes me shudder.  And besides, according to this Arizona Extension agent (and apparent wasp lover):

"The benefits of wasps usually outweigh potential for harm unless a nest is in a high traffic area such as a doorway or outdoor living area. When approached, paper wasps leave the nest and dive bomb intruders occasionally inflicting painful stings. Both wasps and yellow jackets can sting multiple times."

Our kids are at that bus stop twice a day, five days a week, and as much fun as fleeing dive-bombing wasps sounds, I think I'll be stopping into city hall tomorrow to have a word with whomever is unfortunate enough to have to deal with this kind of thing.

Okay, so I can't just stop there, because the more I google about wasps, the weirder/funnier it gets.  Michigan State University Extension says,

"The larger nests of yellowjackets and baldfaced hornets that are protected by a paper mache envelope are more challenging and best left to pest control professionals. But, if you are bound and determined to try yourself, then in addition to nest location, your speed and agility should be honestly evaluated. [!!!!] The slow and clumsy should seriously reconsider hiring a pest control company. [!!!!!] No attempt should be made to kill a nest that is located high in the upper branches of a tree if you think a ladder will be required to reach the nest. For reasons that should be obvious, a nest full of angry wasps and a fool on a ladder is a potentially dangerous and life-threatening combination.[!!!!!] If the nest is located close to the ground in a tree, shrub or on a building, then you may have a fighting chance to survive the experience. [!!!!!]"    

[Bracketed exclamation points added by yours truly to denote every time I laughed/gasped in horror while reading this.]

I'm thinking I'm going to ask to be alerted if they do try and remove that nest- Cade and I will have to round up our binoculars and go watch, from a suitable distance, with 911 ready on my phone.  I've seen My Girl, and I know how slow and clumsy I can be.   

No good can come of this.

A Coffee Timeline

September 30th:  Drink coffee.  So good.

October 1st:  Drink coffee.  Mmm.

October 2nd:  Drink coffee.  Southern butter pecan creamer, you complete me.

October 3rd:  Drink coffee.  Feel a tiny niggle of... something... deep in the recesses of my brain.

October 4th:  Drink coffee.  Ah, yes.  I know what that is:  Paranoia.  Hello, old chum.

October 5th:  Drink coffee.  Dismiss paranoia and its associated nonsense regarding my coffee.

October 6th:  Drink coffee.  Attempt to dismiss paranoia.  Stare distrustfully into my coffee cup.

October 7th:  Drink half a cup of coffee.  Upgrade paranoia to suspicion.

October 8th:  Do a google search.  Find this article, begin to roll my eyes, believing it to be yet another "All your food is evil and also chemicals" post (newsflash, internet:  EVERYTHING is chemicals), but its source is an NPR interview.  Confirm I have been drinking essence of cockroach.

October 9th:  Discover this handy/terrifying chart illustrating how much ground insect the FDA allows in ground coffee.  Retch.

October 10th:  Buy bag of whole coffee beans.  Use canny little mini-blender thing I got for Christmas last year but have never used.  It has a grinding blade!  It's a (10 month overdue) Christmas miracle!

October 11th:  Drink coffee.  Yes to the creamer but hold the cockroaches, please.

Oh, that?  That's just a teensy piece of roach carapace, daughter mine.  Drinky, drinky.