I'd have to confess I often come here believing I'm all alone... alone in some sorts of a strange vast Universe where I sit throwing thoughts to the great big cosmos; collecting feelings and believes—pieces of a life lost in this black hole in space-time where gravity prevents anything, including people from seeing me. THANK YOU for letting me know I'm not really alone.
And thus... the Shasta daisies in my garden have decided they like it better on the floor, and had taken half the pathway to the garden’s entrance...
I love the freshness and sultriness of Shasta daisies...
...but they had to be pruned back. Your Shasta daisies will still thrive if not regularly pruned, but they won't blossom as profusely.
Even after they’ve been trimmed off and put in the trash, they still looked lovely to me…
And there are the vines too—all those grapevines growing in every corner of the garden. Vines are a creepy thing. I’ve always sense a mysterious meaning in vines. Perhaps it’s the deep green what enthralls me? Or maybe it’s the association with mysterious secluded places such as abandoned castles and deep shaded forest, or maybe it’s just the way they have of reaching out to things; clinging almost in the air... leaves, fruit clusters, flowers, shoots, canes and tendrils coiling around fences and objects; bestowing this sense of arms and hands and fingers... a living thing, indeed. I just love them.
I am almost certain that the grapevine covering my back porch knows me, and even rejoices when it sees me... when I pass by it, it stirs and moves and stretches out its thin arms to touch me and even grab my hair... I can almost hear it laughing at me at times.
I love this mysterious lushness that grapevine possess. If you look around my garden you’ll find many a vine posing as living screens or as a wall or even a roof. They have so much to offer. They get huge round August, and have barricaded the back porch, making it feels dark and cozy and a perfect place to sit, relax and dream summer dreams... Oh and a great place to sleep too!
Remember our misfortune a couple of week ago with a broken central air-conditioning? Spending our nights under the grapevine was not only the logical thing to do; it was the finest and a most delightful ocurrence ever!
Darkness descended slowly upon the garden and with the last light came the enthralling call of night creatures. Choruses of crickets down the garden path initiated the extravaganza; filling the night air with wonder and magic.
From our improvised bed in the porch, I could see the moon amidst tree branches gliding the night sky ever so enchantingly—a queen amongst zillions of shinny maidens.
I wish I could have been able to really captured all that beauty the moon allowed me to see from my own little place in this world—the dark and relatively featureless lunar plains which can clearly be seen with the naked eye by anyone, but I'm not the best of photographer, as you can see. Still, I love what I was able to captured... the mystery of the moon behind shivering leaves. Just amazing!
Once we had settled down and everything got quiet, to my left ear came the sweetest music of a lonesome cricket-singer. Hiding amidst the big leaves of the grapevine he sang his lovely tunes until the Man Peter Pan, having no conscience for such things decided he had enough of it, got up, and went looking for the poor creature round each corner; for sleep would not come to him being serenaded as we were by such unaccustomed melodies.
I laughed secretly when he came back to our bed grumbling something… glad to hear the cricket had won and, retaking its position, soon lulled me to sweet unconsciousness with a most enchanting tune. Truly magical.
Thank you so much for taking a stroll with me, I hope you had a lovely time, and that for a moment, you really were here…
