It’s Garden Blogger’s Bloom Day (GBBD). On the 15th of each month, Carol at May Dreams Gardens invites garden bloggers from all over the world to share what is blooming in their gardens.

You may be wondering what a Maine gardener can possibly write about blooms in December. After all, we’ve already had a couple of months of frosts and freezes here. We’ve had snow and ice and overnight temperatures below 10F. My garden is all tucked in under its white winter blanket.

Winter interest is provided by a couple of hardy evergreen rhododendrons, by seedheads, and by spent foliage rising above the snow.

In the blue and yellow border, the brown and withered foliage of the tall Rudbeckia ‘Herbstsonne’ is standing almost knee-deep in snow, with its seedheads providing the only evidence that this is a flowering plant.

But wait. Do you see it? There, at the end of that stem hanging down.
The little flower that could, still blooming! Where does this little flower think it is?

In some years, my garden would already be under a blanket of snow by December 1. But this year, we’ve had an unusually mild November, and despite frost and freezes, there are still many signs of life in my garden.   Most surprising is this Rudbeckia ‘Herbstsonne’ flower, blooming on an otherwise brown and withered plant. I have been thinking of this as “the little flower that could.”

Sedum ‘Autumn Joy’ still has some color in its flower/seed heads

…and Sedum ‘Matrona’ is getting a head start on next year’s growth.

During the mild temperatures of November, a number of plants have put up new growth,

including Linum ‘Perenne’

… and Geranium x cantabrigiense

Green sprigs of rosemary and thyme are still peeking out through a blanket of fallen leaves,

and the evergreen foliage of rhododendron is looking lively in temperatures above freezing.

In the cold, this one will conserve its energy by drooping,	and this one will curl its leaves so tightly that they’ll look like needles.

Gardeners love to share – their knowledge and advice, their blogs , their garden photos, and especially their plants.

Every area of my garden includes plants that began as divisions from the gardens of friends and relatives. The planting on the steep slope by the back door is anchored by divisions of hosta and rhododendron that my mother gave me from her garden more than twenty years ago when I was a new homeowner.

From my friend Joyce, who has been my primary gardening mentor, I have three different varieties of Siberian iris (including two that were initially divisions from her aunt’s garden), hosta ‘Hyacinthina,’ rudbeckia ‘Herbstsonne,’ peonies, and (most recently) a new as-yet-unidentified hardy geranium.   I have my friend Anne to thank for the fragrant yellow daylilies that are planted along the front of my property, and my friend Jan gave me the divisions of tawny daylily that are now naturalizing along the side of the driveway.

I also love to share my plants with others. When my friend Joyce bought a new house and had to leave many beloved plants behind at the old garden, I had the pleasure of re-gifting divisions of the Siberian irises that she had given me several years earlier. When I created a new garden for my mother to fill the scarred space left after a huge blue spruce tree blew down, I included divisions of many plants from my own garden. Recently, I was a guest at my brother’s house; and when I looked out the guest room window in the morning, I realized that I was looking down on two clumps of geranium ‘Biokovo’ that had begun as divisions from my garden.

One August, in an attempt to deal more creatively with my overabundance of Biokovo thinnings, I brought two large plastic shopping bags full of bare-root plants with me to Gettysburg when I returned for the beginning of school. I put out an announcement on the college’s electronic digest offering free plants and then held open house in my office while dozens of people came by to collect them. This was a great deal of fun; I got to meet co-workers that I hadn’t previously known and made some new gardening friends along the way.

I found my “plant giveaway” such an enjoyable and gratifying experience that I wonder if there would be a way to replicate it on a larger scale. Could we devise a way for gardeners to share their extra plant divisions (or seeds) with would-be gardeners, especially those who might be financially strapped? I know of garden groups that swap plants with one another and of groups that hold plant sales as fundraisers, but has anyone come up with a scheme to give away plants to strangers? I’m imagining an event where plants would come with photos and information on how to use them (I loved Violet Fern’s image of the gift seed packs with photos) and where experienced gardeners would be on hand to provide consultation on how to get started, what to pay attention to, and how to combine plants effectively. This might be a great project for a Master Gardeners group. Does anyone know of any attempts (successful or not) to do something like this?

I almost always bring the camera when I go for a walk, just to see what I find.
Now you can go with me on a walk and see my findings in my neighborhood

These hoverflies are pretty.

and so are dandelions

some more weed, a Epilobium hirsutum is lovely too

Well a small feater is worth a photo

And some Lingonberry among grass and moss

Empty shell and leaves in an oaktree

And an evening star also know as Oenothera biennis

A softball or dandelion dressed in white

A sunlit mapleleaf is a joy to look at too

A look at the alotmentgardens is always a joy – here is a rudbeckia

And a white cosmos

Sometime one is lucky and the sun is shining perfectly at a Astrantia

The lawn behind the house has funny things too,

like this little funguswith red hat

A small family of four golden ones

this browne fungus look like a bowl

Fungus Sopp could be a porcini in Swedish “karljohan svamp”

Someone has taken a bite or two of this one

And here are some we all know the amanita

And some big ones

Flies like fungi too

Midland hawthorneberries are lovely in the sun

some singled out

Sunshine on yellow leafs and weed are lovely

An old tree stump with funny patterns and colours

Aronia berries after rain

And aronia berries in the sun

At my balcony window a green lacewing is trying to find shelter from the rain

I do hope you too enjoyed the walk.

Have a lovely weekend.

]]> http://patientgardener.wordpress.com/2009/10/15/gbbd-sept-2009-2/ Thu, 15 Oct 2009 07:31:47 +0000 patientgardener http://patientgardener.wordpress.com/2009/10/15/gbbd-sept-2009-2/

There is still some colour in the garden most of it hot, like this Fuschia Thalia which has really come into its own in the last week.  I was about to move it into the greenhouse but am risking it outdoors abit longer.

The annnual Rudbeckias are still flowering away and seem to have a limitless supple of new buds waiting in the wings.  I take bunches of them into work to cheer up my office and they are lasting up to two weeks in water which I think is excellent.  The white flower just out of the shot is Dahlia Honka which I have written about before and which has been a real treat.

I think this is Helianthus Lemon Queen.  I know there is mixed opinion on it and that some people find it to be abit of a thug but I really like it.  I will be relocating this in the spring to a better position probably with the grasses I am planning to plant for a late summer border.

I discovered this Welsh Poppy flowering today.  It must have been confused by the warm weather we have had recently but I thought it looked rather sweet nestled between the Japanese Painted Fern and a grass.

Whilst the flowers add colour and a certain dynamism to the garden it is the fading perennials that really interest me at the moment.  I love the way that as the leaves fade and decay the details of the veins etc become more defined.

For more Garden Blooger Bloom Day posts visit Carol at May Dreams Gardens

For perennials (plants whose life span extends more than three growing seasons), now is the time to divide and conquer. My garden, which was a vacant expanse less than five years ago, has begun to fill in and become crowded. Perennials have reproduced by creating new plants and I intend to take full advantage.

By digging up perennials that have become dense and have created thick clumps, have spread too far, or died out in the center, the frugal gardener can experience “economic euphoria”. From a single division, new plants can be created, expanding your garden at the mere cost of sweat and muscle pain, a small payment for those suffering “nursery nervosa”. Dividing “clumping perennials” and creating new plants is called “propagation through root division”.

A generous neighbor gave me divisions of ‘Stella d’Oro’ daylilies. The plants now fill a border garden. When divided, they will fill another. Yarrows, globe thistle, Shasta daisy, catmint, Rudbeckia (black-eyed Susan and coneflower), and the pretty Campanula (bellflower) benefit from frequent division. If your plant has sent out runners, simply cut it from the mother plant and transplant it to a desirable location. If the perennial is a “clumping” variety, dig it up and carefully pull it apart. Roots that are too intertwined to separate can be pried apart using two garden forks. The double-fork method of prying the roots apart works especially well for Shasta daisies, hosta, daylilies, and agapanthus.

Dividing perennials from your garden is like putting money in the bank. You can fill in spaces or pot them up and draw upon your cache when you start a new flower bed or need to fill in an occasional gap. Offer your newly created plants to friends. Share the wealth.

The middle of one of my rudbeckia Prairie Sun has developed some strange green growths in the middle of the seed part…..

It started out looking like this…

In a recent post (Try this Rudbeckia!), I encouraged gardeners who like rudbeckia to think beyond the ubiquitous black-eyed susans and try the cultivar ‘Herbstsonne.’ I also noted, however, that Herbstsonne is a big plant and might not be suitable for every garden. Now I have happy news for those who, like me, love the yellow and green colors of Herbstsonne, but who don’t have the space for a plant this large.

During my recent visit to the Butchart Gardens in British Columbia (see Gardens Worth Visiting), I discovered a variety of rudbeckia previously unknown to me – one with the coloring of Herbstsonne, but with the size and habits of black-eyed susans. Butchart Gardens staffer Thea Hegland, who promptly and graciously replied to my email inquiry about this plant, tells me that they actually have two rudbeckia cultivars that answer this description, ‘Prairie Sun’ and ‘Irish Spring.’ Both of these seem to be varieties of the species Rudbeckia hirta.

There’s disagreement about whether R. hirta is an annual or a perennial. Allan Armitage, in the 2nd edition of Herbaceous Perennial Plants classifies it as an annual, but the folks at the Missouri Botanical Garden’s Kemper Center for Home Gardening classify it as a short-lived perennial, hardy in zones 3-8. I think the boundary between perennial and annual is blurry here for several reasons. First, this is not the kind of plant that will live for decades once established; it is short-lived. Second, most reproduction of this plant seems to be from seed (like an annual) rather than by vegetative divisions. Third, you can plant seeds of Rudbeckia hirta varieties in spring and have flowers by summer. So, if you can’t find nursery plants, you can grow this from seed.

I think these plants are gorgeous. My only caution would be that, like their black-eyed susan cousins, these flowers will self-sow and “naturalize” readily if the conditions are right. This means that they can become invasive and won’t necessarily be good citizens in the flower border. You can get more information about both Prairie Sun and Irish Spring from the Kemper Center for Home Gardening.

Just when the season of gardening is coming to an end, the opportunity is here for the planning of next year plantings.  Now we can evaluate what worked, which plants were placed in their ideal location for optimum performance, or in some cases, the realization that some plants will have to be moved.  Many perennials will need to be divided like crowded Bearded Irises that can be lifted now, separated and relocated.  Spring blooming bulbs should go in this fall to allow the roots to get established.  Keep after those weeds and do not allow them to bloom and set seed for next year!  You will save yourself a lot of work in the spring.  In the picture bellow, Rudbeckia or Coneflower, has just about finished blooming, I like to leave the seed heads for winter interest.  The Goldfinches love to perch on the stem and feed on the seeds. Here Rudbeckia was under planted with Aster amelus. At it’s feet, a young Ceratostigma plumbaginoides.

Its interesting that although there appears to be alot of colour in the garden at the moment it is coming from fewer plants than in previous months.  One of my favourites at this time of year is the Japanese Anemone.  They really sparkling in the twilight and are quite a nice foil to other flowers such as Lobelia Tupa.

Another favourite is this Cimicifuga racemosa ‘Atropurpurea’ which has a wonderful scent.

Alot of colour is coming from these Rudbeckia Marmalade.  They are annual Rudbeckias.  Whist they are very attractive I dont like them as much as the Rudbeckia Cappacino I grew last year.

I’m pleased with this dainty Kniphofia called Toffee Nosed.  Hopefully now it has settled into its new home it will start to bulk up and I will get more than one flower.

I was late in sowing my calendula this year and then slow in planting them out so they are only just now getting going which is a shame as they will have a short flowering season.  I liked this flower as it looked rather shy!

The Sedums are proving to be very popular with the insects at the moment, although they didnt stay still long enough to feature in the photo above.  I think the Sedums are such good doers that we dont really notice how much colour they are contributing in their own subtle way..

The real star of the show at the moment is my Dahlia Chat Noir which has been flowering for at least a month and is still full of buds.

For more Garden Bloggers Bloom Day posts visit Carol at May Dreams

In New England, late summer is the time for rudbeckia. The rudbeckia most people are familiar with are “Black-Eyed Susans” – either the annual wildflowers of this name (Rudbeckia hirta) or their cultivated perennial cousins. At this time of year, big clumps of black-eyed susans are blooming in gardens, and it is not unusual to see large drifts of them growing in fields and meadows. But I want to call your attention to a much less well known rudbeckia, the cultivar called ‘Herbstsonne’ or ’Autumn Sun’.

Herbstsonne is a stately, more elegant member of the rudbeckia family. It is a big plant, growing 6’-7’ tall, and with a 3’-4’ spread. Its flowers are lemon yellow, rather than the more familiar gold of black-eyed susans. And the centers of these flowers are a fresh green, rather than dark brown or black (although, as the cones develop, they become more brown). Even when the flowers are not in bloom, the big foliage of this plant, growing about 5’ tall, is an impressive presence in the garden, making this what garden designers call an “architectural plant.”

A gardener using a plant this big in the garden needs to think about issues of scale and appropriate companion plants. I would be wary about growing Herbstsonne in a small flower bed with much smaller plants; I think it would just look like a looming giant. On the other hand, driving around the back roads of Maine, I have seen some people growing this rudbeckia alone as a specimen plant, treating it as a shrub, which definitely works. In the right partly shady space, it might be nice to grow Herbstsonne with Dicentra spectabilis (bleeding hearts), another big shrub-like perennial, but one that blooms in spring and goes dormant by mid-summer.  I have Herbstsonne growing at the back of my blue and yellow border, with tall trees behind it and a somewhat shorter (5’) Heliopsis (false sunflower) growing in front of it. Because this part of my garden backs up to dense woods, it needs big, bold plants to set off the garden from the trees. Herbstsonne shares this space with other big plants, including tall spires of delphinium, Phlox paniculata (when the woodchuck doesn’t eat them ; see “The Lost Garden Season”,” August 2009) and a 4’ clump of Amsonia tabernaemontana (blue star flower). My friend Joyce, who first introduced me to Herbstsonne and gave me a division of it from her garden, has a very large three-storey house and grows this plant at the back of the border, up against the side of the house, where big plants balance the scale of the house. At Perfect Perennials in York, Pennsylvania, Diane Kendig has Herbstsonne growing side-by-side with the daylily ‘Autumn Minaret.’ (See “Extending the Daylily Season,” August 2009). I can see the logic of growing these two plants with similar heights and similar bloom times together, but I feel as though the bold personality of Herbstsonne swamps the more delicate beauty of Autumn Minaret. In the new fence border, I am planning to use Herbstsonne and Autumn Minaret to anchor the two ends of the fence at the back of the border, echoing one another, but with about 10’ between them giving both plants a chance to shine. Blue morning glories growing on the fence behind and beside Herbstsonne should provide contrast and balance its height and spread.

Who says you need a rainbow to find a pot of gold?

"August Gold" (Rudbeckia fulgida 'Goldsturm' aka Black-eyed Susan) Nikon D300, 70mm, F/10, 1/125s, -0.7EV, ISO 400, SB800 w/Gary Fong Lightsphere Cloud, -0.7EV

I had some fun in the gardens this week.  It’s not that easy to pick the right combination of images for an effective montage and I haven’t learned how to do them on the computer yet. The above were all done in camera.

Late August bloom

Rudbeckia

I'm seeing a lot of orange- and yellow-colored flowers

Dark sunflower

Orange and yellow gaillardia

I’m noticing a lot of yellows and oranges in the flowers of late summer.  It’s as if they are casting a sunset glow on the passing of summer.

Late August
by John Bohrn

Let me enjoy
this late-summer day of my heart
while the leaves are still green
and I won’t look so close
as to see that first tint
of pale yellow slowly creep in.
I will cease endless running
and then look to the sky
ask the sun to embrace me
and then hope she won’t tell
of tomorrows less long than today.
Let me spend just this time
in the slow-cooling glow
of warm afternoon light
and I’d think
I will still have the strength
for just one more
last fling of my heart.

So now it’s the end of August.   Hydrangeas are fading, gardens everywhere are looking at little tattered and thirsty in the heat, our eyes are suddenly on the Tropics as we watch the first hurricanes of the year forming – and one of them, Bill – seems to be taking aim at our part of the world.  We’ll see what happens there; the Cape is long overdue, though hopefully we will continue to be spared.   But my point is, the sun is setting earlier, the greenhead flies are holding forth and the summer is clearly ebbing away.

“And how, ” I hear you asking, “are you doing?  What about the Surgery?” you want to know.   Yes, that.   I’m doing fine, though I guess it’s no surprise that the whole experience put me a little off my game for a bit.   As the two week mark arrives, I am getting it back together, but feh.   If I had only two words to sum up the whole business, I’ d have to go with “F**king OUCH”, although I suppose I could also live with “Okay, fine”…or maybe…”Lorna Doones”.

Fortunately, bein’ a blogger, there’s no reason to go with just two words.    Really, overall, t’was not the worst experience I’ve ever had.  Though, too, I did think that it was annoying, invasive, painful, a bit of a mind-f*ck and not at all something I’d have chosen from a list of potential August activities.  But people who’ve had more of the stuff than me (and so know better) tell me that it was a piece of cake, that I’m probably far ahead of the game and I’m doing great.   So what do I know?

The whole hospital experience was a short one – we were on our way back home an hour and twenty minutes after the surgery – so at least there was no overnight time.   Mom and Dad were along to keep me company, which was just great (and they were kind enough not to eat and drink in front of me, since I was fasting).  A few well-chosen graphic novels helped tend to my good mental health (the indestructible alien Superman to fill me with hope as I waited before the surgery…and the unstoppable human Batman to power through the pain of the good drugs wearing off later that night) and distract me from tying myself in knots.

The nurse who saw me through my “induction” to the surgical waiting area was a bit of a stormtrooper, and sadly was also the person responsible for shaving me.   I think I could’ve done a more efficient job myself and it was clear neither of us wanted her to be doing it.   I resisted the temptation to offer much constructive criticism, though, since I was uncertain what access she might have to me with the shaving implements while I was out.   Naturally, she still managed to leave more than enough fur to anchor adhesive gauze onto.   Grrrr.

But everyone else there was pretty lovely and the gang in the operating room were a merry bunch.   They actually walked me into the operating room, something I wasn’t at all sure I actually wanted to see.  As we walked down the hallway I said, “Well, this addresses that irrational fear I had about being accidentally dropped while I was out.”, which the nurse and anethesiologist both thought was pretty funny.

My photo blogger instincts were trying to kick in, even without coffee, and I remember wishing that I’d brought my camera along, so I could take a picture of the operating room lights.   The configuration of the two different units (like the one pictured here) reminded me of a dried flower arrangement, but I couldn’t think of the name of the brown seedpods these made me think of.   And I remember thinking that I should start to tell a joke, that they’re not having heard the punchline would be my insurance that I’d come out on the other side, and there was a little pulse in the IV in the back of my hand…

…and then there was an icy glass of Coca Cola and a package of Lorna Doones (the name of which my mind sung in exactly the way that Lerner and Loewe would have preferred) and I was in the recovery room and almost before I knew it we were making the trip home.   I know I was doped up pretty well, because I felt great and was hungry as anything.   But it certainly was great to get back to the Nest and see my Gray Pal and you’ll recall I blogged briefly right off.

The first couple of days aren’t worth looking at too closely, really.   There was some pretty serious pain (and fortunately, vicodin) and a bit of swelling and I didn’t really want to do much more than lay around and read and snuggle with Nurse Scratch-It, who never left my side.

In between that, there were also some good times with Mom and Dad, whose visit extended through the weekend and they made sure I was fed and watered properly and they are just terrific company.  They also saw me through the twin indignities of post-surgical constipation and seemingly-endless hiccups (Thanks to all the Facebook buds who wrote with their favorite hiccups remedies, even if a few seemed a little extreme.  A couple of them even worked, for a little while, anyway.), which we managed to turn into a few laughs.   Yep, just no end to the toe-tappin’ fun around here that weekend.

Actually, on Sunday, which was Day 3 after the surgery, we did have a bit of fun, when I went out on an adventure with Mom and Dad.   Just before this visit to the Cape, Mom had learned of the existence of the Cape Cod Lavendar Farm, in nearby Harwich.   I note with some irony that the Midnight Gardener was somehow seemingly the LAST person on Cape Cod to know of this place’s existence.    But I’m happy to say I know about it now…and I look forward to going back again real soon!

And also, I hope to get there next year around mid-summer, when these fields (there’s 12 acres) are purple with blooming lavendar.   I imagine the whole place redolent with the scent which, when we visited, was mostly found in the small shop where all the lavendar and related lavendar products are sold.   Oh, what a joyous cloud of fragrance walking in there!  Mmmmmm.

This fantastic little cottage is the shop where all the fresh and dried lavendar, potted plants and related lavendar products (hand creams, body wash, lotions, candles, dreaming pillows, sashays…) were available.  It was a little overwhelming, really, but soothingly so.   I sort of took things in a little superficially, I’ll admit, and will enjoy my next visit to the place.   There’s a fairy-themed garden in the woods which I look forward to exploring next time, but really didn’t feel up to on that particular day.

Here’s Dad outside the lavendar shop as we enjoyed some sunshine while Mom collected some purchases.  Hi Dad!

[In a meager first attempt to bring the dimension of Scent to the Midnight Garden blog, one of you lucky readers has been chosen completely at random to participate in an experiment.   To prevent petty jealousy, the lucky recipient of the lavendar sashay will remain anonymous...but should hold that fragrance delivery device near their nose and inhale deeply right about now.]

After leaving the farm, we rendezvoused with our friends Tom and Sue, who’ve recently relocated to the Cape from the Adirondacks at their place (the daylilies featured above are from Sue’s front walk garden, actually), where we visited a bit before heading off to Sesuit Harbor in Dennis, where we had lunch at this terrific waterfront eatery inside the marina there.

It’s a pretty casual affair, you order your food inside, get your beverages and then pick a picnic table along the shore and eventually, they bring your food out to you.   We all ordered lobster rolls, since its apparently the thing that people go there for.   Understandably so, they were darned good.

But <sarcasm>apparently they kill and cook the lobsters to order</sarcasm>, since it took a pretty long time for that food to find us.    Still, it’s August on the Cape, so such waits are to be expected… and we were luckier than some in that we had truly good company to pass the time with and a lovely day going on around us.

I wasn’t keen on all that much sitting, so I got up and walked around a few times, snapping a few photos of things that amused me.  I was fond of these five sparrows sitting on the  rope fence, especially.

Our lunches were certainly worth waiting for (so very good) and as I said, we had a terrific time.  We even found someone to get a photo of us all to prove it to you!

Mom and Dad headed for home on Monday.   Their departure coincided with the arrival of some Serious Warm for our area, and so I was happy to just lay around quietly with The Catsby, finding breezes in front of the fans and applying ice packs and lying almost close enough to touch…but not touching, it being so warm and all.

Badum was quite happy to have my company full-time and eagerly shared with me some of the details about just what it is he does at home all day long.   As you might imagine, it’s a pretty attractive lifestyle.

In the morning, after breakfast, there’s a nap in the sun in the dining room, then another nap in the sun a little later in the front bedroom…and then after lunch, there’s a nice long nap on the bed, followed almost right away by another nap…after which there’s a bit of a stretch and a walk-around, checking out various windows to make sure the world’s carrying on the way it should…and then back for another little bit of a nap before dinner.

This, was Nurse Kitty at his finest.

And now, as they say, Tempus Fugit, baby.   Time flies.   I’ve been back to work for a week.   After all the Kitty-ing, that was a bit of an adjustment.   I’d  been trying to take it easy a bit, not wanting to do too much, but by the same token wanting to get things back to something like normal.   I miss my walks to the bay and bike rides and stuff and will be happy to reintroduce those into my regular routines as I continue to heal and feel more comfortable with that stuff again.

The hot weather’s been coming and going.   We had just enough rain to keep us from enjoying much of this year’s Perseid Meteor Showers (although I did see one or two from the deck last weekend) and now with the hot weather’s return, we track the progress of Hurricane Bill.

Next year, I swear, I will convert all my deck pots with self-watering conversion kits.   It seems no matter how often I water those guys, the hot sun just saps them and things are looking a little weary out there on the deck in more than a few of those pots, owing to the extremes we’ve seemed to enjoy.

Thank goodness for macro-focus!

One success story, though, is the planter where the  morning glories are growing.   They have been joined in the last twenty-four hours, by the first cardinal climber flowers, which you can see here (Thanks, again, Theresa, for the seeds!!).   There’s a host more buds poised to bloom tomorrow and other things are happening in the planter, as well.

Down at the feet of the vines, I seeded in some bachelors buttons, which are little more than seedlings just now, but should bring me plenty of flowers for September and early October.   To my surprise, some of the yellow violas from the other planters have seeded their way in there and have already come into bloom, as well!

Not far away, a planter full of dwarf cosmos have begun to sing a song of August.

This is the Rudbeckia flower in its final stages of bloom.

De ståtliga solhattarna växte i en koloniträdgård vid Karlbergskanalen, Kungsholmssidan. Jag stod i eviga tider och hängde på staketet, fångande den ena humlan efter den andra, och så några fjärilar. Blommorna växte på en precis lagom nivå för långa mig, skönt att slippa åbäka sig runt på marken för en gångs skull.

Förstår ni att jag önskar mig ett macroobjektiv. HETT önskar jag. Tänk vad man kunde göra med ett sånt…