I fancy myself a gardener now. These are my baby beans just sprouting up from the ground. I have done a lot of things wrong with my first serious gardening attempt, but having enthusiasm isn’t one of them.
I planted beans, peas, carrots, radishes, lettuce, onions, potatoes, spinach, peppers, tomatoes, basil, parsley and dill. I am either going to have a great harvest, or I am going to find out I am a terrible gardener.
My Christmas cactus is in full bloom this year. Last year was my first year with it, and it bloomed around February instead of December, so I guess we’re all on the same month now. It hangs on my front porch in a macramé hanger. I haven’t had one of those since the 1970s!
According to the Farmer’s Almanac, this is not a dry desert cactus, but a rainforest cactus. So, it’s a succulent that likes its humidity and grows in trees. Maybe I should move it? It seems to be happy where it is, and with me, the less I fuss with something, the less likely it is to die.
Back in the woods after a mile or so hike, if you don’t count the extra couple miles getting lost, you will find this Tri-State marker that lets you set foot in Massachusetts, Connecticut and Rhode Island all by dancing around this pole. It was one of the last few states that I had not set foot in. Now, to complete my lower 48 journey, I must touch Texas and New Mexico.
A view from the cliffs surrounding the Atlantic Ocean at Acadia Park in Maine. This rugged coastline is so much different than the usual sandy beaches that I see here at home in Florida. Same ocean, same rocks, just a lot smaller. It was the first few days after Hurricane Ian had gone through the area, so everyone was enjoying the sun for a change.
In St. Francisville, IL, you will find the other end of this one lane wooden bridge. You’ll also find a toll keeper who wants a dollar or so to let you off the bridge.
It is said that this bridge is haunted, and it is the first of two sections. It passes over the Wabash River and appropriately named the Wabash Cannonball Bridge even though no such train ever went over it. It can be reached from Vincennes, IN, but you have to look for it.
After living in Florida for decades, I finally took a day and went to the local zoo where I found this furry face. To say that the giraffes are spoiled is an understatement. They stand along the edge of a platform and wait for you to buy leaves to feed them.
I am not sure that they even bother to get their own leaves any more. It was a hot day, but lots of fun. The Brevard Zoo is a great place to visit and they help to conserve the Florida native plants and animals.
I don’t know what strange things were going on in the hibiscus when this one bloomed, but first, it’s on an orange bush, and second, my red bush is way, way, way far away from the plant, and third, I don’t even have a yellow hibiscus!
Wild and beautiful all at once.
This is a long story, but it’s going to have to be a blog post because it’s still ongoing. Here on the end of that leaf is a tiny (like a quarter of an inch) Monarch caterpillar.
It’s on a milkweed plant that I had a lot of trouble keeping, and this little guy was the first caterpillar that I had seen on the plant since it was chopped down and revived. It had become infested with milkweed beetles and aphids.
For the moment, I felt a small yay of triumph when I saw this guy. The story continues …
I could only hope that this was not another one of those hateful, poison-filled caterpillars that crawls all over the porch and my flowers because the face was too cute to be dangerous.
Sure. Sure. The saddleback is a delightfully colorful caterpillar, too. However, this guy seems to be a moth caterpillar.
It is called a Laugher Moth Caterpillar because the adult moth appears to have a man laughing on the wings. I have seen the adults around, but I don’t see anything remotely close to a laughing man on the wings. They are more marbled in muted tones than anything.
Grown from seed, these Black Eyed Susans are more of a midwestern plant, but if you do it just right, you can get some nice flowers down here for at least a little while. I don’t know how long these will last; summer is brutal on all things alive, but maybe they will last into the late fall.
Julie L. Cleveland 