Lone assailant or teamwork? I don’t think the hummingbirds did this.
At least the raccoon(s) was/were polite enough to carefully leave the bottom of the feeder sitting on the railing instead of callously tossing it aside. I’m very curious about the mechanics of this operation—whether it was the work of one dexterous individual carefully unscrewing the base at the limits or their reach, or whether there was some kind of support from a friend (hanging on? standing on shoulders?) to make the work easier.
Sometimes I feel like I’m going to break down.
Around here everyone (thing) is part of the family!
This artichoke plant is taking over the whole bed in which it was planted.
I planted a tiny artichoke plant last fall and now I’m starting to wish I had planted it somewhere else. It’s only mid March and the plant is already huge. Shooting this plant from above led to some fun working with the shadows.
Cabbage, cabbage where’s my cabbage?
Can you find the tiny cabbage in the shadow of the out of bounds artichoke? This plant might be shading the whole house by the time summer rolls around.
Who dares to venture into the ancient dark forest of artichoke?
Up close it makes me think of some kind of prehistoric plant.
I was thinking of putting “Your Ad Here” on the stone next to my rain gauge.
Much of what I think about water these days has to do with rain. When I grew up in south Louisiana, I took water for granted. It rained a lot, we lived right next to a bayou and there was water nearby in every direction.
Now I appreciate every drop. Gardening viability, tree health, drinking water supplies — these things are on my mind frequently. The first real post on this blog was about rain.
This is a rain gauge that Julie gave me for our anniversary. Who knew that 21 years is frog yard art! So far I’ve been very glad to see this little garden helper get plenty of action. The frog seems okay with it too.
This always ready frog and I love the same things – being in the garden and rain.
Down past the feral cat village and the compost pile lies the bamboo grove. The mysterious path, best navigated if you are less than a foot tall, winds on down Critter Avenue past the tree where the pair of Great Horned Owls share their song on even the darkest of nights. In the daytime hawks and crows cast unfriendly glances toward each other and each evening the possums and raccoons hurry along in route to the scroungers buffet. Who knows what else traverses this urban nature passage…
This path is an urban wildlife thoroughfare.