Summer Mornings in the Smoke

Last week, during the Smoke Attack, I took some pictures of my front garden. The smoke, whatever its evil health effects, made the sun less harsh, but did not, unfortunately, improve the quality of my pictures.
We planted it in October and for the next six months I fretted that the plants might be dying. This wasn't true; they were just resting and waiting for warmer weather and more sun. In April the plants sprang into action--growing, blooming, trying to liberate territory from their neighbors. The butterfly bush is a bit gangly, and has attracted only one butterfly (a swallowtail), but is providing food for the hummingbirds presently residing in the eucalyptus and all the local bees.

The very large agastache may have to move, as there's a rose that only grew to two feet behind it, but I'll wait until fall before I make J dig them up and move them. (I once made him dig up and move a plant six inches. He allowed that my re-placement of the azalea was better, but asked that I make these decisions before he planted the plants the first time.)

You can see the low-hanging smoke in the butterfly bush picture. At one point the air quality was so bad that it was "extremely unhealthy for everyone," and people were urged to limit outdoor time to an hour or less at a time.

I have discovered, of course, that pictures that seemed like a good idea at the time should be deleted as awful. In fact, I should probably consider hiring a good photographer to take pictures...


I've also developed a devotion to soaker hoses, the tenant's version of the drip irrigation system. It allows for deeper watering of the plants, so they don't wilt quite so much during our heat waves.