Tonight at Iten's Acres: Majesty September 24, 2014

It's almost 10:30 on a Monday evening, and I just got home from school--open house night. It's a clear, cool night in north central Ohio. I slid out of the car and looked up: "The heavens are telling of the glory of God; and their expanse is declaring the works of His hands."
And He calls them all by name!!!!!
O Lord,our Lord! How majestic is Thy name in all the earth, who hast set Thy splendor above the heavens!"

Yes! "Our Lord."

Today at Iten's Acres: Work Detail September 20. 2014

oday at Iten's Acres: In a word--tired. No, more than tired--spent. No, not spent, I got some change for my labors. Exhausted. Aren't you delighted that God came up with the idea of manual labor? Work is such a balm for the soul.
Actually today at Iten's Acres started on Thursday. We had two days of teachers' meetings this week. (Thirty minutes listening to Troy, Tom, and Buzz is worth a year of ACSI meetings. Food for the brain. Food for the soul. A good two days.)
But having the meetings changes my daytime hours--8-4 becomes 9-3. What that means is that Thursday I got back to The Acres early enough to mow the back of the property--meadow, orchard, wild area, back 40. That gave me at least two hours of time that I didn't have to use today to do the mowing. (Sadly, though I still enjoy it, it is merely mowing this time of year. The blue velvet jets must have headed South already.) And Friday I got home early enough to move a ton of the stones I used today to re-do and to create new beds. Another two hour gift of time.
How did I use it? A lovely lazy morning--in preparation for my afternoon toil, of course. Sat for awhile by the front window. Homesteader joined me. Read. Always a good time. Walked The Acres. Had a delightful chat with my neighbor and friend Dennis. (Pray for him as he tries to sell his house and move closer to Columbus.) Pontificated awhile on the green throne at the top of the hill. Even though the leaves aren't changing yet--well, one third of the ancient red maple is on fire--beauty is everywhere at The Acres. Phlox, morning glory will grace the place till frost. Hibiscus and Rose of Sharon are still blooming some. The annuals in the planters are holding their own--in fact, the begonia, snapdragons, and petunia are exhilarated by the chillier temps. I have no idea how long the pond will be "blooming." And the autumn wild area is still wild--yellow, purple, pink, blue, white. If I didn't have work to do, I could have spent the afternoon on--or would it be over--the hill.
My goals for this fall were to expand the rock garden and one of the pot bunkers, re-do one large bed, re-do four pot bunkers completely, and add three more. (And, of course, there are always flowers to move and bulbs to plant. Hey, I have a whole new area next to the house to fill in where the pine tree once stood.) Today, from about noon until four or five, I managed to get some of that done. Rock garden. Done. Two pot bunkers re-done. One new one added. The re-doing is the most difficult--even after the stones have been moved to where I need them. Whew. Aches and pains to remind me of my ancientness. But I feel like a newly restored antique. No, no. Nothing you would see on the Road Show. But next week--you will find this old soul still working--creaking around--on The Acres. (In the afternoon anyway. Mornings are for lazy.)

Annual Report 2014 The Year of the Vortex Part Three: Wild Things

Annual Report 2014 The Year of the Vortex Part Three:  Wild Things

My favorite area on The Acres is, of course, The Wild Area--an acre or so of God's artistry.  I suppose some of it is perspective.  The beds on the front area of the property are filled with wild flowers by this time of year.  For some reason that irritates me some and makes me think that I need to just re-do all the beds; raising them, I tell myself (who else would listen), will make it easier for me to keep them weeded.  I have no idea whether that's true or not, but it sounds good. Meanwhile, I am thrilled at the plethora of those same wildflowers gorgeousfying my wild area.  Weird human, eh? Thousands of goldenrod--over my head--in some areas are dazzling as I meander the paths of wild things.  Purple and pink clumps of asters, tall deep purple iron weed, even taller pink thistles, patches of blue lobelia and verain, patches of pink monarda, and a border of thousands of white heath asters makes autumn the glory days of The Wild Area.  Throw in some honey bees for background music, lots of butterflies and dragon flies for fluttering ribbons, and it's a marvelous place for a slow stroll on a September afternoon--as slowly as possible is the only acceptable "speed." Obviously The Vortex had no impact on the wilds of autumn. 
In fact, I would assert that the wild area smirked at The Vortex's attempt to freeze her out.  The crocus came up in mid-March as always. 500 (or more) daffodils danced their way through April--even the miniature golden bell daffodils returned after a couple years of hiding.  A dozen hyacinth added their color--with a little of their aroma therapy.  In May the wild hyacinth--camassia is their regal name--graced the wettest spots. In June the spiderwort quadrupled itself from last spring and summer--blue everywhere. A great number of daylilies spiced up June as well--even some new ones that the Gardening Angels must have added to the area just to spite El Vortex. July brought coneflowers, phlox, black-eyed Susan, pink liatris (for the first time ever), and three times as much monarda as in 2014. And from August to frost will be the closing symphony described above.
Ah, poor, poor Vortex.  Not only were the wild things e. e. cummings splendiferous this year--they were even more spendiferous than last year!
I wonder what my Gardening Angels look like when they smirk? 

Today at Iten's Acres: Decisions, Decisions September 7, 2014

I keep looking at the grass and thinking, "I really need to mow." I keep looking at the stack of papers I need to grade and thinking, "I really need to stay on top of my grading." I keep looking around the house and thinking, "I really need to vacuum and clean up a little bit (a whole lot actually.)" I keep reflecting on next week and thinking, "I really need to finish up my lesson plans." Decisions, decisions, decisions. What's an old bald hermit to do? Go for a walk in The Acres, of course. And spend a little time relaxing on the green throne at the top of the hill enjoying the beauty I love easy decisions.

The Annual Report for 2014: Part Two The Year of the Vortex: The East--Land of the Rising Sun September 6, 2014

Annual Report:  The Year of The Vortex Part Two:  The East

The eastern side of The Acres from County Road 25 to The Bog is also a wet zone.  At least once or twice during the spring and summer, I can't even mow part of this area as it approaches The Bog--way too wet.  Splashy wet when you walk wet.  I'm sure that in one summer if I decided to become the ultimate hermit and quit mowing, The Abode would be swallowed by the Bog.   Hmmmm.  Just one summer . . . Ah well, God it would seem has a different assignment for me--more students to torture. 
Anyway, my greatest paranoia in this area was that the witch hazel would be a victim of the Vortex. (I worried, too, about the hardy hibiscus.  How hardy are they really?)  The witch hazel hasn't bloomed, yet; in fact, it hasn't shown much growth, but I have my dreams for it.  I'm waiting for an early spring outbreak of yellow.  Who won the winter battle, you ask?  Witch hazel one; Vortex zero.  Yep, it came back--still no blooms, but where's there's life, there's hope.  Next spring, perhaps? 
Several trees of various sizes grace this area.  And their age seems to have little impact on their height. A white paper birch that has been around for years is barely over a foot tall--if that.  If I live to be a hundred--perish the thought--it will probably still be a foot tall.  At least, maybe by then it will turn white.  Two river birch reside here as well.  One is, at least, twenty feet tall and the other three. The taller one already has its winter brown papery look--lovely.  The smaller one--looks like a stick.  Two willows live here also.  One I just planted this summer so it is understandably small. The other is impressive.  Fifty feet tall, slender and lithe like most willows. Loves the wet, I'm sure. In the summer when the wind is blowing, it sways and the leaves have a silvery flickering sheen. Beautiful.  I promise.  Is it possible to watch a tree dance in the breeze or cavort to the blast of a summer storm and feel serenity?  Yes.
Bloom wise, there are three distinct flowery times down east.  In May, a delicate pink flowering almond begins the show.  Next to it is a flowering plum--small, but full of delicate white blooms that enhance the deep purple of the tree's leaves. The Master Designer knows how to blend His colors.  Late in May, the thicket near The Bog turns pink--a curtain of everlasting sweet pea, planted by someone's Gardening Angels before I even arrived--beautify the area.   The deep green of their leaves adds to the display.  And they last into late July!  Phase two begins in late June.  An ever expanding row of orange daylilies spring to life in front of the thicket impervious to the competition.  And at the same time the red swamp milkweed enters the picture.  They should continue to spread too. Deep pink, red--nice combination as well, eh?  Phase three? In early August--and still going strong are the hibiscus--five or six of them (I've lost count). White with maroon centers, pink, deep red. Four or five feet tall--playing in the Morrow County breeze.  A delightful way to end the summer.  And hardy hibiscus they are--everyone of them ignored the Vortex; and they are even more immense this summer than they were last.
And there are three lovelies that have yet to bloom here on the eastern edge of The Acres:  a still growing hawthorn (white in late April when its time comes), a tiny Rose of Sharon to help the hibiscus in August, and two more orange daylily for more June color.  {And there's a pot bunker bed over here as well, but that's for another story.)
All in all, The Vortex, frigid, wet, wild was completely ignored.  Take that FAS.

The Annual Report for 2014: Part One--The Front September 1, 2014

The Year of the Vortex:  The Front 2014

Winter 2013-2014 was ugly.  Cold doesn't even begin to describe it.  And the cold was accompanied by the winds of Antarctica.  Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.  Naturally, being the eternal anticipator, I had visions of a flowerless spring, summer, and fall at The Acres.  Naturally, my fears were ungrounded--for the most part.  Nature is tough!  Tougher than a chubby, old bald man I know. I thought in celebration of The Year of the Vortex, I would run through The Blooms of the Year area by area at the old homestead.  No, advice from The Homesteader is not included in these ramblings, though plenty of advice has been offered as always. 
Let's start at the Front. The problem with the front of the property is always the same:  it is so wet.  And since The Vortex was followed by The Monsoon of Spring, my paranoia was magnified.  Not to worry old faithless one.  The corkscrew willow, of course, loves the wet.  Sitting on it's little island surrounded by water, the beauty grows magnificently every year. It is a beauty.  The maples are doing acceptably. If I had the equipment, I would probably move the two smaller ones--they are not enamored with wet feet it appears.  The taller of the three seems to be just fine.  Soon they will all add a little color to The Acres.  Autumn is coming, you know.
I had hoped the largest of the hawthorn would bloom this year, but alas, not so.  Ten years old now, healthy, but no blooms.  The cardinals and robins will have to wait at least one more year for a feast of berries. The hawthorn and I have been here from the beginning.  When it happens, I anticipate a celebration of fruitfulness.  A plan coming to fruition, so to speak.  The other wee hawthorn is years away from contributing.  I doubt if I'll see that happen.  The Rose of Sharon that endured years--yes, years, of battles with the lawn mower is healthy, but no blooms.  I think that it is trying not to draw attention to itself lest the mower attack again.  I must reassure it that the mower is not the enemy; it's the numbskull that operates it. And he knows you are there, and has no intention of repeating his stupidity in cutting you down.  Bloom my friend, bloom!  Carry on Mom's legacy on The Acres.
The color of The Front is lovely,  It starts in May with the yellow flag iris.  Stunning deep yellow and the blooms hang around for weeks.  Then, in June come the lilies and Siberian iris.  A combo mauve and cream starts the show--I love that lily, and it is expanding like mad.  It almost always the first of the day lilies to bloom anywhere on The Acres.  (Yes, I have hidden a few elsewhere--duh).  The rest of June belongs to the "common" orange daylily.  Lots of those, too, up front--and spreading.  For variety, a lovely blue Siberian iris blooms in mid-June.  Ruffled Velvet is its name--which says it all.  July belongs to the double orange daylily.  Yes, lots of those as well--and spreading.  And there is also one banana yellow day lily behind some of the double orange.  (The orange and double orange are part of Mom's legacy, as well.)  The last thing--other than wild flowers--to bloom up front this year was a white hibiscus. It doesn't come along until the end of August--just as the double oranges are calling it a summer.  So, the color scheme for The Front is:  brilliant yellow, followed by islands of mauve and cream, followed by the archipelago of orange and double orange islands with a touch of deep blue center stage, followed by over-sized white beauty. And those islands in the seas of The Front are widening every year.
And I, of course, never content in the world of flowers, have added a few things in hopes of an even more colorful spring, summer, and fall in 2015.  I've added a blue flag iris for May, a few more lilies, and another Siberian iris--red (yes, red!) for June and July, and a rose mallow--think wild version of hibiscus--for August. Now if the hawthorn can add its white blooms in early May, and the Rose of Sharon can add its double pinks in August and September, the panorama will be complete.
FAS suggests that another vortex is scheduled for this winter.  We--the old man, the trees, the flowers, and The Homesteader--are unafraid. (She, of course, never fears anything.)