I love to sprinkle the garden; the sound of water hitting the ground, the smell of earth that rises to one’s senses, the twittering of robins close by, hoping for a quick dip in a puddle. It is my time for thinking all those put aside thoughts and daydreams, observing the minutia of plant life.
I water mostly in two stages; one day the front, the next the back. Then, there is the deck, which is just about every day, especially come midsummer. While I don’t like the long hauling of hoses, once I’m at where I need to be, I enjoy the idleness of soaking my plants, especially the hostas, who perk right up with their leaves, as if praising the heavens when given a drink. They show their gratitude with the most amount of grace. The hydrangea take a bit longer, with rewards of giant blooms for just a nip or two, but after a spell. The whole garden enjoys a good , long soaking, especially after the 95° days we’ve been experiencing.
I’ve gotten ahead of myself, however. There I was, a few days ago, before the big heat arrived, watering a big batch of brunnera. The sun was aslant as it does ’round ’bout four, and I neared the milkweed in bloom.
Have you ever smelled milkweed in bloom? Its scent is aromatic, especially toward dusk; a perfect, intoxicating invitation to insects, particularly the monarch butterfly.
A few smaller butterflies have flitted about, mostly cabbage whites, along with an army of ants and a lone bumblebee. I’m worried, truly alarmed. There was a shadow on the underside of one leaf as I watered. Upon a closer look, I could see something wiggling about. He (or she) was slowly moving up the leaf, antennae groping, back legs slowly pushing forward.
Had I not been watering, I would not have seen this little green bug, toiling away, his shadow visible under a milkweed leaf. I watched him for a time, garden hose in one hand, camera in the other, imagination full speed ahead . . .
. . . yep. I like to water the garden. How about you?
Well, time to water again – and see what is lurking under the milkweed.