On Summer Surprises

JAN: As I often lament, I'm the world's worst gardener. This is possibly because I hate gardening so much. My husband insists the poor young plants I put in the earth can actually feel my hatred. That's why so many of them just don't thrive. (The not watering part, and just trying to get it over with part, may also play a role)

Anyway, years ago I planted a hydrangea that just wouldn't flower. I went back to the lawn and garden guy who told me it was probably where I had planted it, and suggested that I put burlap around it in the winter to protect it from the high winds. Of course, hating gardening as much as I do, I was not about to go out and buy burlap and stake it around the hydrangea, so I ignored the lawn and garden guy. The hydrangea grew to an unruly size and dominated my rock garden without a single flower. So I got even with the hydrangea, and told my husband to dig it up and get rid of it.

He dug the entire thing up by the root ball and moved it to the front yard. The next year, a small plant appeared where the old hydrangea had been. I was too lazy to weed it. This year, after the worst harshest winter, the hydrangea reappeared, fully size, beautiful and fully flowered.

So despite my hatred, my neglect, and my ultimate revenge, it returned to bloom like a bastard. For me, that's the best surprise of the summer.

What's your best seasonal surprise?

HANK: Well, you know about the ducks, but that's spring. This year, though, we have WONDERFUL BIRDS! We saw Baltimore Orioles, amazing. And a couple of nuthatches, catbirds, flickers, whole families of cardinals: flashy brilliant dads, dowdy moms, and doofus little ones. Hundreds, literally, of robins. (Bobbing along.) And the wrenny gray doves, all in pairs, skittering around and making that little noise when anything startles them. And everything does, of course.

Am I hopelessly old to care about birds? Should I be writing about my new, ah, I don't know, motorcycle or ball gown or something?

DEBS: I must be having the most boring summer imaginable . . . I'm with Hank on the birds--we've had FLOCKS of hummingbirds, which I absolutely love. (Do hummingbirds flock??) But I think perhaps my biggest surprise is re-discovering how much I love root beer floats, thanks to one of our rather rambling JR blogs. In fact, I think another trip to Whole Foods Market for the goodies may be in order this weekend . . .

Oh, and we got a new grill, and I am surprised by how much I LOVE it. I didn't know you could be in transports over a grill. You just turn the knob and push the button and it's lit. And everything cooks perfectly! (Well, expect for the pizza, but that's another story . . .)

JAN: Anyone else have any summer surprises you'd like to share?

ROBERTA/LUCY: There's a new fox in town. Oh we've had families of fox before but this guy appears to be an adolescent--completely fearless. One day we saw him on the beach where he'd stolen a large fish from a seagull, who circled overhead screaming. Other days he's trotted through our yard or up our lane as if he was part of the family. Tonka's chased him a couple of times but he comes right back to pick up whatever game he dropped. The bad part is now I worry about him as if he is family....

By the way, I love the hydrangea story Jan--don't think I ever knew that about you and gardening!

JULIA: Jan, you are a gardener after my own heart. Unless Ross takes care of it, any plant in the vicinity of our farmhouse has to fend for itself. Occasionally, when my conscience is touched by our neighbors' orderly flowerbeds, I refer to this neglect as "naturescaping."

My surprise this summer has to do with the Saco River. There's a wonderful town park with a narrow riverine beach that the children and I go to several times a week during the summer. In years past, I've stayed close to shore, intimidated by the challenge of going well into a river that's over thirty feet deep and has a decided current. But this summer, much to my surprise, all the laps I did at the YMCA over the winter have paid off! I can go half-way across and then back again several times. Someday soon, sisters, I'm going to cross to the opposite shore.