The Summer of '25

The big projects for this season were 1) rebuild the old deck & 2) sit out there all afternoon.
{Mission accomplished!}

Deathly still in the garden this morning. Not a breath of air. The occasional chirp of an optimistic chickadee. The lazy buzz of a weary bumble bee, flitting through the Hollyhocks ~ too hot, too tired, to work very hard. Lots of my perennials feel the same, many have given up. Shifting into survival mode. Relentless heat taking it's toll. [These photos were snapped throughout the season. This summer's greatest hits.] 

93 degrees. It hasn't rained in 48 days.

It wouldn't be summertime without a few Heavenly Blues.

I'm pretty worn out, too. I think you have to live with severe drought, in order to understand how it messes with your mood. For me, green makes everything feel better. More normal, less dire. And cooler, too! Crunching through a dead field where the horses can’t find a blade of grass to nibble on, where the only happy critter is a grasshopper… Well, that’s no fun. Though that's where we're at, during this hot mean season.

The heat has been relentless. The monsoons passed us by. Not a drop of rain.

In spite of all that… I’m calling this a truly terrific summer.

Heat-loving Yarrow

Stayed home all season, which is highly unusual for me. Enjoying the peace and contentment of sitting still. Having learned our lessons from prior years, we’re vacationing in late autumn. When, hopefully, the crowds of tourists, on vacation, have already gone home. [Hmmm... what are the odds?] That free time felt so peaceful ~ and it's a big reason why the gardens were looking extra pretty this year.

A summer where I started early, with a lengthy list of big fun projects. And I got most of them done!

Italian Heather. Didn't know there was such a thing.
Just FYI? I killed this so fast. Dead within a week of transplanting. A new bad gardener record!

Last night. When I stepped out of the shower, I saw something brand new. And quite surprising.   

Is… that… a… muscle? I asked myself, while looking in the mirror. Both naked arms bent above and behind my head, futzing with barrettes to clip back my wispy hair. Wow. Both upper arms missing the flabby skin from yesteryear. Both sporting well-defined muscles. I guess I have succeeded with one improvement during this let’s lose 20 pounds, or gain 5, as is my lot in life, blue collar summer. Three cheers for one fabulous success story. Or. Let’s make it two.

Wild 4 o'clocks. The most waterwise perennial in my garden.
She's not actually in my garden, she lives in the ditch, in front of my house.
But I still take credit for her gorgeous flowers.

The side-of-the-house garden (yes, I know, that's kind of a lame name) has rarely looked more beautiful. A joy to the senses as I hand-watered the hard to reach spots, oohed and aahed over the first Hollyhock blossoms. People often ask what’s my favorite color. It’s typically beyond their level of comprehension when I reply: My favorite color is the color of the flower that I'm looking at right now.

Like this morning. When I fell madly in love with Miss Hollyhock’s Petal Pink. Wondering if, perhaps, my complexion has changed after all these long years and maybe now I can wear petal pink. [That's still a big no.]

We've got Columbines coming out our ears this summer.
Tip: If you deadhead they will bloom all season long.

Every fun discovery in the gardens, prompts another project. Seeing the gangly Hollyhock, taller than me, optimistically hoping she could outgrow the aspen tree… I trimmed aspen branches to gift her more sunshine. 

Heirloom roses

All the while enjoying the subtle, yet quite delightful, scent of the John Cabot Roses, who bloom all summer, in spite of the heat. An entire hot pink wall – 8 feet tall and 10 feet wide. [How did that happen? Covid, that's how! There was nothing else to do so I planted a wall of roses.]

When the winds rustled the branches, it looked like a hundred pink butterflies, fluttering in the breeze. My blouse covered in rose petals.

John Cabot Roses bloom all summer long.

On hot exhausting days. Which has been pretty much all of them. My gardens look like a rag tag mess of bright color, with no planning whatsoever. Overly critical people (is there any other kind these days?) will often ask: why did you plant these perennials in this strange place? 

What makes you think I had anything to do with this? Quite a few of them planted themselves. 

The weeds wouldn’t be nearly so difficult to manage if I laid down fabric and mountains of mulch. But if I did that, important seeds couldn't take root. The wildflower ladies, who reseed themselves, make or break this garden every season. 

Wild Blue Penstemon

Such as the sky blue wild Penstemon - seeds snitched from the Yellowstone backcountry on that glorious week long trail ride with my horse, Sable. Just a handful of seeds, pilfered when no one was looking. This stunning blue wildflower has birthed at least 50 offspring plants, because I gifted her the freedom do whatever she pleases. 

Hollyhocks reseed themselves, too.
Tip: Avoid purchasing packages of seed; they rarely do well.
Collect seeds from friends and neighbors. Or me. I'll send you some, just let me know.

Like cats, you can’t really tell a wildflower what to do. She will survive, or not, as she wishes. I can begin with what I feel is the right location, but chances are pretty good she’ll reject my hospitality. I scatter the seeds, cross my fingers and hope she appreciates the home I have provided for her.

Paintbrush (pruinosa)
* Careful with this one; she's parasitic.

And even when she does appreciate the spot I have chosen, that doesn’t mean she’ll come back in the same place every year. 

Last season, half of the Penstemon decided to bloom beneath the garden bench. Preventing me from sitting out there and enjoying all my hard work. This year, the pink Columbines have chosen to sprout in cracks in the sidewalk. Of which I have many. 

Russian Sage loves the heat.

The wild Asters and - yes I bought one but now I have dozens - Russian Sage literally walked away from the well-watered garden bed, preferring to bloom in the bone dry dirt on the outside of the fence. 

And those Hollyhocks? I think they’re on a mission to abandon my yard entirely. Every year, they move farther west. Possibly eyeing the vast meadow across the road from me.

I  💜 Volunteers!
These little cuties are annuals, but they reseed and re-fill my planter every summer. Never need to buy more.

The term “any way the wind blows” was more than likely invented by a wildflower gardener. Because we’re not in charge and rarely consulted. 

Wild Chamomile + hybridized Kniphofia Flamenco

Though some years it comes together so beautifully that it’s almost like the plants held a big group meeting. Hammered out a clever strategic plan and ~ for once in their long lives ~ obeyed the timetable. Flowers unfolding at the same time. In all the right places.

Knautia Macedonica ~ Not a Pincushion Flower, though they look like twins.

As I dash back and forth amongst the blossoms, dodging the hummingbirds, avoiding the bees, grinning at the butterflies, snapping dozens and dozens of photos… it’s almost like I can hear ‘em whisper. Don’t get too excited. This garden will look totally different. Same time. Next year.

I will leave you with my $250.00 tomatoes. All 6 of them. I felt they needed a really fancy planter in order to do well. But this is all I got for my trouble. Honestly, I don't even know why I bother.

Here's hoping you're enjoying a marvelous gardening season.