December; A long, hot Summer;

Summer days in the country are butterflies and bees, the rich, green  smell of nature expanding its wings;  wanting to dance to the tune of sun and rain. Ts

Summer days in the city, the hot breath of  asphalt,  the sound of tired feet and fast wheels, empty water bottles and discarded fast food wrappers lay defeated in the gutter. The city retreats into itself shivering from over exposure to sun light.Ts

Sunrise in the Valley;

Self sown miniature Zinnia in the herb garden.

“Summer's lease hath all too short a date.” 

William Shakespeare

Rosa Iceberg, can be propagated from cuttings;

My mother had a beautiful white rose bush in her garden, as a child I loved to bury my nose into the fragrance with the result to be stung by a bee. As I am allergic against bee stings, my nose swelled to look like a small potato. It was very uncomfortable and painful  and I had to get a calcium injection.

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Rosa "Elina" is a light yellow Hybrid Tea introduced by Dickson Roses in 1983.
 Cultivars Nana Mouskouri X Lolita.

I have grown this one from a cutting.

 Small mammals, like Possums use Elkhorn ferns as nesting place.

For my birthday the girls gave me a big blue pot, now it has become a fountain.

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“Life is short, Break the Rules.

Forgive quickly, Kiss SLOWLY.

Love truly. Laugh uncontrollably

And never regret ANYTHING

That makes you smile.” 

Mark Twain

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Giant Heliconia, its spectacular flowers are emerging in summer;

Summer days; nothing  in any  season rings so much of careless, fun filled hours of sunlight , like lazy, warm  summer days; Ts

Love thy Labour

 Mangoes; this variety is called Kwan and is very tasty,

The pomegranate, Punica granatum, is a fruit-bearing deciduous shrub or small tree growing between 5–8  tall.

  I covered it with a fine net to protect the fruit from birds, bats and fruitfly; nothig will be left of the fruit if not protected.

Cantaloupe Melons;

Apples ripe in December in the subtropics.

Chllies, scots bonnets; slice finely and add some fire to the salads. They are actually quite mild when the seed and membranes are removed. they are also ornamental.

Small, pear shaped Tomatoes; the tastiest tomato around fresh, or used for sauces, salsa and soups, freeze also very well.

Morning Symphony;

I'm a very early riser, and I love to watch the sun rising over the hill infusing a new day with its light.

Mussaenda, a tropical shrub, semi climber finds its way through and up trees, winking from above with its red bracts.

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“it's a smile, it's a kiss, it's a sip of wine ... it's summertime!” 

 Kenny Chesney

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Sunset colours, tall hibiscus from Cuba.

Great is the sun, and wide he goes

Through empty heaven with repose;

And in the blue and glowing days

More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull

To keep the shady parlour cool,

Yet he will find a chink or two

To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad

He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;

And through the broken edge of tiles

Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around

He bares to all the garden ground,

And sheds a warm and glittering look

Among the ivy’s inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,

Round the bright air with footing true,

To please the child, to paint the rose,

The gardener of the World, he goes.

Summer Sun

from A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson (1885)

A basket filled with summer's colour;

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Believe it or not:

One swallow does not make a summer; Aristotle;

©2013 Photos/ some texts and quotes Ts/ Lavender & Vanilla.

November; Gems found in my garden;

Flowers, admire and lament their short beauty;  ©Ts 2013

The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.  ~Basho

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FLOWER-SALUTE. by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,--

Greets thee a thousand times!
Oft stoop'd I, and caress'd it,

Ah! full a thousand times,
And 'gainst my bosom press'd it

A hundred thousand times!

1815.

Lichen on bush rock

I think all flowers are  full of hope,  despite they do not own  tomorrow; ©Ts 2013

Fungi garden.

'Tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes!
~William Wordsworth, "Lines Written in Early Spring," Lyrical Ballads, 1798

  I wished for nothing but a garden at sunrise to watch the flowers awaken. ©Ts 2013

Flowers... are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty out values all the utilities of the world.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson, 1844

Flowers of the Cuban royal palm.

The fungi garden;

The flower offered of itself
And eloquently spoke
Of Gods
In languages of rainbows
Perfumes
And secret silence...
~Phillip Pulfrey, from Love, Abstraction and other Speculations,

Believe it or not:

Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.  ~Gerard de Nerval


©Photos from my garden Ts.

September; Spring in the wild garden;

Mainly native Australian trees, shrubs and flowers.

Warratah, flowering tree from the Atherton Tableland.

The mountain road goes up and down

From Gundagai to Tumut Town

And, branching off, there runs a track

Across the foothills grim and black,

Melaleuca, small, silvery white bottle brush flowers;

Across the plains and ranges grey

To Sydney city far away.

It came by chance one day that I

From Tumut rode to Gundagai,

Melaleuca, the tree covered in flowers.

And reached about the evening tide

The crossing where the roads divide;

And, waiting at the crossing place,

I saw a maiden fair of face,

Natural mulch;

Casuarina bark;

With eyes of deepest violet blue,

And cheeks to match the rose in hue –

Attractive Wilsonia, Shrub or rather small tree grows  slowly up with weeping branches.

The fairest maids Australia knows

Are bred among the mountain snows.

Rainforest tree Sloanea australis; Maiden's blush;  the flowers;

Sloanea australis tree; generously covered with these gorgeous flowers.

Then, fearing I might go astray,

I asked if she could show the way.

Her voice might well a man bewitch – 

Its tones so supple, deep, and rich.

Bauhinia variegata; white orchid tree;

 "The tracks are clear," she made reply,
"And this goes down to Sydney Town,
And that one goes to Gundagai."

Canopy;

Then slowly, looking coyly back,
She went along the Sydney track

Rainforest tree;

And I for one was well content
To go the road the lady went;

Cicada skins, hanging on a Staghornfern.

Like small ghosts,  just the skin is left, waiting for what?

Come summer they sing again the song of the bush;

But round the turn a swain she met – 

The kiss she gave him haunts me yet!

I turned and travelled with a sigh

The lonely road to Gundagai.

...and so the story ends...

The Road to Gundagai, Poetry by Banjo Patterson (1864-1941)

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Believe it or not:

Vegemite

An Aussie icon food with 90% of Aussies having a jar in the pantry. 

© Ts Lavender & Vanilla/Photos my garden;