The summer weather was more severe, but life in summer continued as so many before it. Those beleaguered heirloom tomatoes did eventually come along, in September. And they were good, but fewer in number and a few weeks later.
But, this year, the garden delivered something new. The melon vines loved the hot weather and by early September I had collected six edible, lovely and delicious Charentais melons. This was quite a success and I may plant these again next year.
Penne with fresh tomatoes and Basil (from the hundreds of plants!)
Visitors
Twenty years ago when I first moved here, I would sit outside on the those peaceful summer nights and the bats would begin to appear about 7:00pm. They would begin to fly lower as the darkness came, until those little bats would often fly right in front me, just a few feet away.
And then a few years later they vanished and I have never seen them again.
Yes, it has been many years, but almost every night in the summer I very briefly look for them. So, each evening begins a little sadly when I sit to finish my dinner wine. I am always a little melancholy. I never forget them and always look up into the trees in the western sky from where I once saw them approach. I am hoping that they have returned. That thought makes me unhappy because they have not.
Something so ancient no longer appears in its natural and proper place, when and where it has existed for an incomprehensible amount of time.
But I have other visitors who come, attracted to the hundreds of zinnias that bloom in my three flower gardens. The wondrous and nearly magical little creatures visit fairly often, and I know something is still right with the world when they visit. I always stop immediately and watch them. Sometimes I can photograph them, but it is nothing to look at the photo when compared to meeting them in person. I’ve read that the oldest fossils of these magical creatures date to 50 million years ago.
Many things on this unfathomable ancient earth continue and my life has more meaning because I am part of it.
It is Summer 2025 and the weather has given two distinct seasons through June and July. The first was very hot and dry with temperatures consistently near 90. Next, came the deluge of rain. It feels like a tropical forest during the last several weeks. The weather is so moist, humid, warm and dense that I have found white fungus patches growing in the soil near several plants. A deluge of rain.
“Apres moi, le deluge.” The King’s famous statement was not made in reference to the weather, but every time I think of the word “deluge” that phrase comes to mind. While Louis XV made his remorseless statement about the destructive effect that the powerful will leave behind after their departure, in our case, the deluge was exactly what we needed!
“After the flood, the tomatoes!”
My main concern was that my favorite heirloom tomato plants were barren of fruits until July 21st. I have not seen this in many years and felt a little unhappy each morning as I examined the weary plants. Heirlooms are not hybrid plants, and therefore are not artificially disease resistant, and certainly not heat resistant. They refused any pollination until the temperature mercifully dropped for a few days, and 7 days later they had many little tomatoes. If the temperature is too hot, they get tired and rather listless.
The one who dislikes intense heat, may catch a disease or two, or become bored or weary. Yet, somewhere within this being lies a feeling of purpose in the present, the desire to survive and possibly even flourish.
These conditions seem familiar, don’t they? The real world tells the truth if we can see it and learn from it.
Still, next year I will plant less of this variety of tomato as I have learned that our local climate seems wrong for it. It may thrive in a milder or more suitable climate. Sometimes we are forced to change. Knowing when to change is a valuable skill to have. However, it can be a rather painful one to learn.
Well, as the tomato branches slept the melon vines crept, and what entertaining plants they are! If I sat in the middle of the this dense chaos for one night, I would expect to be held captive by these Vines Of Charentais, dragged through the Field of Lillies, into the Dark Wood. I don’t know what would happen then, but I do think about it.
The Vines of Charentais melons, threatening to cover everything in sight!
As of today, these lovely vines are a perfectly harmless variety of honeydew melon cultivated in France. These started from seeds in early May and they, unlike some of their neghbor plants, seem to enjoy our climate this summer.
These seeds came from Botanical Interests seed company, and they have many interesting plants you will never find at a garden center.
“Heirloom” seeds are handed off from one generation of gardeners to another. I think “heirloom” may not be an accurate adjective, but it is accepted. There is a much greater effort than trading and selling seed packets. “Heirloom” seed companies are agricultural entities. There are associations across the USA such as organic farming and sustainable agriculture groups that have a great interest in cultivating and spreading the use of organic seeds. The organic farming and food movements are growing every year, all over the world and what a very good thing that is.
The real heirlooms, the past.
There are other types of heirlooms, the various objects that have been present in our lives for decades. In that sense, this is certainly an heirloom, but it is more than that. This girl’s image has been known to people for over 4 centuries. (Rembrandt, or his studio, 1645).
This Rembrandt print, in its ornate antique wooden frame, has been watching me for as long as I can remember. I think I have lived with it for my entire life. I am not sure really when it appeared. It was in my parent’s house, found its place later into my first house, and has been watching my living room in the present place for the last 21 years.
Unlike a family heirloom it doesn’t remind me of my past. It is a view of the ancient past but its effect is in the present. That could be said of all great art, I suppose. But stranger yet, it will outlive me and look over someone else one day.
Here is to the present and last night’s home-made pesto, a real Chardonnay and waning bird songs in the evening.
The Gardens of August 2025
One day, I will take a good photograph of a hummingbird. It is very difficult to do, but now it is a daily activity to wait for these incredible little creatures. I sit with my Canon 250mm lens in hand, and relax in the sun waiting for their rare appearences.
The Civilized Man 