In the Days of the Golden Rod

(All photos taken at or near Cassandra's upstate New York farmhouse.)

Across the meadow in brooding shadow
I walk to drink of the autumn's wine­
The charm of story, the artist's glory,
To-day on these silvering hills is mine;
On height, in hollow, where'er I follow,
By mellow hillside and searing sod,
Its plumes uplifting, in light winds drifting,
I see the glimmer of golden-rod.

In this latest comer the vanished summer
Has left its sunshine the world to cheer,
And bids us remember in late September
What beauty mates with the passing year.
The days that are fleetest are still the sweetest,
And life is near to the heart of God,
And the peace of heaven to earth is given
In this wonderful time of the golden-rod.

 by Lucy Maud Montgomery

It’s Lilac Time!

I am thinking of the lilac-trees,
That shook their purple plumes,

And when the sash was open,

Shed fragrance through the room.

~ Anna S. Stephens

A lilac-themed corner in Cassandra's farmhouse parlor



I recently learned, via a gardening article in our local newspaper, why lilac blossoms are not as profuse in our Nation’s Capital region as at our upstate New York farm. Lilacs do not flower well in the Agriculture Department’s Zone 7 and in warmer hardiness zones. These zones also provide perfect conditions for powdery mildew to develop due to the oppressive heat of the summer months.

When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,

And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,

I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

~ Walt Whitman—When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom’d. I. Leaves of Grass. 5

Lilacs must be planted to receive full sun, cold winter weather, and mild weather with good air circulation in spring and summer.  No wonder our New York lilacs are so beautiful – they were planted years ago in the perfect conditions!  How I love gathering huge bouquets of the sweetly fragrant blossoms...

Lilacs characteristically develop a mass of roots.  Lilac cuttings easily root if taken in mid-June.  The cuttings should be 8 to 10 inches long, dipped in a rooting hormone, and placed in a sand medium under mist.  Since lilac blooms occur on stems that formed last year, branches should only be pruned in late spring as flowers fade from these stems.  I don’t believe our New York lilacs have been pruned for years, but I look forward to wielding my pruning shears next month!

With every leaf a miracle … and from this bush in the door-yard,
With delicate-colour’d blossoms, and heart-shaped leaves of rich green

A sprig, with its flower, I break.

Walt Whitman—When Lilacs Last in the Door-Yard Bloom’d. III. Leaves of Grass.

Two of Cassandra's Lilac-themed Decorative Bookcovers:

The lilac spread
Odorous essence.

~ Jean Ingelow—Laurance. Pt. III.

It's "Daisy-Time..."

And what's romance? Usually, a nice little tale where you have everything as you like it, where rain never wets your jacket and gnats never bite your nose, and it's always daisy-time.
D.H. Lawrence



The Field Daisy

I'm a pretty little thing,
Always coming with the spring;
In the meadows green I'm found,
Peeping just above the ground,
And my stalk is cover'd flat
With a white and yellow hat.

Little Mary, when you pass
Lightly o'er the tender grass,
Skip about, but do not tread
On my bright but lowly head,
For I always seem to say,
"Summer is here to stay."

By Ann Taylor (1782-1886)

The Beauty of July at Our Farm

O earth! Thou hast not any wind that blows
Which is not music; every week of thine
Pressed rightly flows in aromatic wine;
And every humble hedgerow flower that grows,
And every little brown bird that doth sing,
Hath something greater than itself, and bears
A living word to every living thing,
Albeit it holds the message unaware,
All shapes and sound have something which is not
Of them: a Spirit broods amid the grass;
Vague outlines of the Everlasting Thought
Lie in the melting shadows as they pass;
The touch of an Eternal Presence thrills
The fringes of the sunsets and the hills.
By Richard Realf

Those Quaint, Old-Fashioned Hollyhocks

All the names I know from nurse:
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady Hollyhock.
~ Robert Louis Stevenson

As a child I loved making hollyhock dolls from those quintessentially quaint summer flowers growing in my Indiana backyard. All that was needed was a wooden toothpick, one hollyhock blossom, one bud with some color just peeking out, and some tiny fern-like leaves if you wanted your Lady Hollyhock to have arms.





















After creating our hollyhock ladies, my sister and I would fashion villages in our sandbox in which they could live - at least for the rest of the afternoon…until they wilted in the summer sun…




















Below is my collection of decorative publishers’ editions featuring hollyhocks…each of which bring back memories of those hollyhock summer days of childhood.

May Wildflowers in Texas

We are obligated to leave the country looking as good if not better than we found it… ~ Lady Bird Johnson








I can understand why Lady Bird Johnson was an ardent fan of wildflowers! The hills of Austin are alive in April and May with wonderful colorful and varied blossoms. Although too late for the famous bluebonnets, I have been surprised this week during my Austin visit at the variety of beautiful wildflowers...and what fun names they have – in addition to blue bonnets, there’s horsemint, Indian paintbrush, Indian blanket, firewheel, branched broom rape, white prickly poppy and scarlet guara. With camera in hand yesterday morning during my walk around the southeastern part of Lake Travis, I captured the lovely fleeting blossoms below. You might also want to check out the website for Lady Bird’s Wildflower Center located near Austin. http://www.wildflower.org/ Thank you, Lady Bird!

Lavender, Lovely Lavender

Ladies fair, I bring to you
lavender with spikes of blue;
sweeter plant was never found
growing on our English ground.
~ Caryl Battersby

Lavender Shortbread

This recipe is for a rich but not too sweet shortbread cookie with a hint of sweet lavender fragrance and flavor. Serve with tea or with lemonade laced and garnished with fresh lavender flowers. These shortbreads are wonderful to share with friends and family in pretty boxes or tins lined with lacy paper doilies, lace napkins or hankies. Don’t forget to write out this recipe to include with your gift!

Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups (2 sticks) butter (no substitutes!), at room temperature
2/3 cup sugar
2 tablespoons very finely chopped lavender flowers (fresh or dried)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh mint
2 1/3 cups flour
1/2 cup cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon salt
Preheat oven to 325°F.

Cover bottoms of two baking sheets with parchment or brown paper. In a large bowl, cream together the butter, sugar, lavender, and mint with an electric mixer. Mix until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add flour, cornstarch, and salt and beat until incorporated. Divide dough in half. Flatten into squares and wrap in plastic. Chill until firm.

On a floured board, roll or pat out each square to a thickness of 1/2 inch. Cut the dough into 1 1/2 -inch squares or rounds. Transfer to baking sheets, spacing cookies about 1 inch apart. Prick each cookie several times with a fork. Bake 20 to 25 minutes until pale golden (do not brown). Cool slightly, then transfer to a rack. Sprinkle with lavender powdered sugar, made by putting 4 or 5 springs of lavender flowers in a sealed jar with powdered sugar for a day before using the sugar.

Makes about 4 dozen.


An Antique Margaret Armstrong Decorative Cover from Cassandra's Collection

Here’s your sweet lavender
sixteen sprigs a penny
that you’ll find my ladies
will smell as sweet as any...
~ Lavender Sellers’s Cry, London England, circa 1900

Hanged up in houses,
it doth very well attemper the aire,
coole and make fresh the place to the delight
and comfort of such as are therein.
~ John Gerard, 1597

Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green,
When you are King, dilly dilly, I'll be your queen,
Who told me so, dilly dilly, how can I know,
I told myself, dilly dilly, love told me so.
~ Traditional Song, circa 1680

Peak Perfect Peonies...

(All photos taken during my trip Mother's day weekend to my hometown of Indianapolis, Indiana...)



















This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open ---
pools of lace,
white and pink ---
and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away

to their dark, underground cities ---
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again ---
beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?
~ Mary Oliver

A Field of Buttercups

Reach for the sky my yellow buttercup;
Towards the sun spread your petals wide.
Let its warmth and vitality blossom you;
To your Creator, spread your happy glow in pride.
Amid the clouds you stand in brilliance,
Growing without the aid of human hands.
Beaming like a sun blossom on the ground;
Flourishing colorfully in green grass you stand.
Author Unknown



Yesterday afternoon while rushing around doing errands I happened to pass by a field full of bright yellow buttercups, genus Ranunculus. I stopped to gaze upon the cheerful sight, remembering how I, as a child each spring, would gather bouquets of these sunny spring weeds.

Once home, I did a little research and thought it interesting to find out that, in the U.S. and Canada, there are 36 wild-growing buttercup species and that all buttercups are poisonous when eaten fresh by cattle, horses, and other livestock. Their acrid taste and the blistering of the mouth caused by their poison means they are usually left uneaten.