Summer 2023 Ends with a Good Weekend

Aug. 13–Droplets on Morning Glory in back garden.

This is the week that, for me, summer has completely ended. I’m back at work full-time, basically all week, although classes start the week after.

And so today I was in a contemplative mood, adding up summer 2023. It’s been, from a weather perspective, pretty crazy globally. Canada and Hawaii, which don’t share a lot in common, both dealing with historic wildfires. Phoenix baking in dangerous heat for weeks. And where I live, while luckily it wasn’t always super hot, we often had poor air due to Canadian smoke. What we didn’t often have was rain.

A drought. The dead zone in the Gulf of Mexico being smaller, not because we’ve cleaned up our state, but because rain didn’t wash our dirt into the Mississippi.

Luckily, we’ve had a bit of rain lately. As my wife and I ate breakfast late this morning (after church), there was a patter of drops on our sun room roof. There is a good chance of rain tonight, thankfully. We need it.

Aug. 13, 2023–Moisture on Hibiscus flower.

This has been a good weekend for me, with yesterday occupied with fun with grandchildren—a swimming outing and a nice cookout at a daughter’s house.

The Mass this morning included that Old Testament passage where Isaiah encountered God not in the wind, earthquake or fire, but in the whisper.

I went in back to empty full water containers from basement dehumidifiers. I decided to do that chore before going on an afternoon bicycle ride.

And I was enchanted. We had just had rain, and plants were wet with droplets. There have not been that many walks in the yard like this during this drought summer. Green grass. Damp flowers. The air feeling a little crisp and fresh.

Wet Oak leaf.

As I made images of the damp leaves, I started to think about luck. One sign of luck is a four-leaf clover, and I was wandering around, making images, but glancing down, seeking but not finding that elusive pattern.

I didn’t find it, and I started to decide that it didn’t matter. Luck doesn’t come from an anomaly in clover leaves. I don’t think it comes entirely from ourselves, either. I can improve my odds with making good life choices, but luck is capricious, too.

And looking for positive signs in the universe maybe is to ignore the whisper. The universe itself is a positive sign, even as the world heats up and we need to recognize the need for collective actions to reverse our destructive trends.

So, I decided it didn’t matter if I found a lucky clover. It’s been a lucky weekend for me, full of family and swimming and good food. That has to be enough.

And, of course, after I decided that it didn’t matter, was this a whisper?

With Sudden Hot Summer, Baby Cat Arrives

Prairie Park Fishery seen on a hike this week–summer is suddenly here. Today there weren’t any clouds. A dry week, little rain in the 10-day forecast.

We’re on the edge of a drought here in eastern Iowa, with hot days and little chance of rain in the forecast. June is normally the wettest month here, and so far, it’s looking pretty dry.

And hot. It got to the 90s today, and despite the lack of rain, was also humid—ah, the Iowa summer one-two punch, hot days where the wet air feels used, like it was just exhaled by an angry hippo.

Well, we’re merely dry, at this point. Maybe the summer pattern will shift and some of that humidity that makes the days so miserable will form clouds and rain and wet the arid ground.

The gardening news is good, at least. Two trees look like they are busy dying from indirect derecho damage—a willow and a ginkgo tree badly chewed by deer this winter and don’t appear to have made it. But the three new trees supplied by the county are all doing well—one oak faded for a time, but after watering has come back and looks good.

And we have some new irises blooming, which I am happy to see.

New iris in front.

Lots of weeds in the back garden—I’ve been busy with family things and have not adequately weeded. With the giant maple gone, what was mostly a shady garden is now filled with sunshine, and perhaps all the wild seeds are taking advantage.

Still, there is a lot to like in the outdoors. Clover planted last year has come on strong. New clover planted this spring is also looking good, but not blooming yet. It appears our yard is more clover than grass friendly, as the backyard, in particular, has never looked so lush and green.

I was a bit taken aback this spring, because many plants came on strong, which is nice, but not milkweed. So, I asked Mr. Google, and the internet reminded me that milkweed is notoriously late, one of the last perennials to emerge. By the last part of May, what had been AWOL was suddenly showing itself—and once milkweed started, it suddenly came on strong. I don’t think I lost any of the butterfly flower varieties, the swamp milkweed in the side garden suddenly began to push past the lilies that are crowding it, and common milkweed is uncommonly aggressive.

Common Iowa milkweed spreads by root underground—my brother-in-law said it migrated in his gardens, and it certainly has spread a bit in my gardens this year.

And today, I felt some sense of fulfillment. My wife and I bought 4 perennial plants Friday, and I put them in—a shasta daisy because we have some on one side of the birch tree in front, and I’m trying to balance that garden a bit, two new butterfly flowers to add by the mailbox (I plant some milkweed every year), and an iris—with the back garden being sunnier, I am trying some there.

• 

• 

• 

• 

Two butterfly flowers (a variety of milkweed), shasta daisy and bearded iris planted today.

Planting is nice, but that’s not what felt so fulfilling.

I noticed it, and pointed it out to a 5-year-old grandson, whose reaction was just right. He had to run into the house and shout for grandma to come and see it!

A baby monarch, there on a leaf of a milkweed plant. I have not seen lots of butterflies yet this summer, but clearly they are around.

On milkweed in front garden, baby seen today, June 5, 2021.

A Change Is In the Air on a Wet Sunday

Maple leaves on deck. The big tree is just starting.

Well, more than one inch of rain can be an impressive thing. Fall break, a short two days off of classes, is scheduled this week, as is the monsoon season—they should coincide.

I would feel bad, just as  I would feel bad about two days of rain that sucked the outdoor fun out of this weekend, but, honestly, I cannot. It has been so darn dry for so long and I’ll gladly sacrifice a Saturday to the Rain Spirits–and, go ahead, take my Sunday, too.

The prettiest part of our fall is coming to an end. The golden ashes, which so jazzed everybody about the colors of this unusual autumn, are mostly bare grey branches now. The early maples have shed their leaves.

Not that fall is over—luckily, no. The sweet gum tree I’ve been watching on my way to work each morning has, so far, remained resolutely green. While the oaks in my back yard have prematurely browned, and the big tulip is finally yellow for fall, the giant maple tree, which will bury our backyard in an impressive three or four inches of yellow and brown leaves, is just now turning color and getting started.

So there for sure is more raking, and perhaps more splashes of color, ahead.

But for now, as a gardener, as we shift from color to brown, I’m grateful for a few sequential wet days, for water in Dry Creek, for a sense that spring flowers may have a bit of moisture to work with as long as some wetness continues before the ground freezes.

Rain. Hip, hip, hooray!

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

For The Second Time In Two Weeks, I Mow

Bee on flower this afternoon. Second honey bee sighting in my garden this year.

Mow, mow, mow. How you like how you like it, mow, mow, mow.

If my evil plan worked, then some of my sisters now have a disco-era earworm going. You’re welcome.

Today was a combination of summer falling into fall. We had rain twice this week (twice!), and so this weekend I had to mow. I know that in years past, mowing each weekend seemed like the norm, but this year is far from normal and mowing felt a little weird, like voting for a Republican or some other improbable fluke of the universe. (Don’t get your hopes up Mitt. Ain’t gonna happen. I thought you did OK on your Tampa speech, by the way, but it was before a whole room full of crazy, and Barack, by comparison, knocked your argyle socks off in Charlotte).

Anyway, I usually walk the yard with a big blue bucket in hand, collecting spare sticks courtesy of the 30 trees in my tiny yard (not much of an exaggeration, by the way) before I mow. But, although the trees are still green, they’ve dropped an unusual number of early leaves, so I had to rake before mowing.

Well, I guess raking in September doesn’t seem like a weird thing to do. So I did rake. My philosophy on raking is to limit it to only a couple of times a season, so this did feel like an extra rake, but necessary given the early carpet. And, given the growth of young trees from years past, honestly I’ll have to get used to a lot more raking in the future.

Then, I mowed, and trimmed. The yard looks pretty green and spiffy right now.

Don’t recall this flower’s name–Silva? Salva? Saliva? Help, blog fans. Anyway, this perennial is in bloom for the second time year. Note how neatly trimmed the yard is behind it . True story.

Not that there aren’t some signs of the drought that dominated our weather this year. Of the eight young trees I planted this year, only four survive. The latest to apparently expire was the lone oak, which is a bit of a shame because I don’t have any colorful oaks, and I was hoping this one would survive. I’ll leave it until spring, in the hopes that it went dormant early and didn’t really kick the bucket, but, honestly, I think it’s pushing daisies.

What survive are a dogwood, a sweet gum (that I’m not sure Audrey is aware of, shhhh) and two maples. One of the maples is in the garden because it was a “spare” tree that I put there to transplant later in case the mortality rate among trees in the yard was high.

High, it was. Next spring, little maple friend, it’s likely that you will have a move—but we’ll wait until spring to see what’s dead and what’s alive (and honestly, my little tree friend, of all the four survivors, you’re the lamest and least likely to make it through winter, but you’re alive today, so good luck).

Anyway, what did I think of while raking and mowing? Maybe I was just grateful that Audrey was painting our bedroom and I was raking and mowing. True story.

Maybe I was thinking of all the school work I should be doing rather than playing outside on this fine fall day. Another true story.

Maybe I was hoping the Hawks would succumb to the Cyclones. I’m not much of a sports fan, but in the in-state rivalry, I’m for the U I went to for a year and that two of my kids attended or are attending. I is for ISU. Another true story, and guess what, LOL, smiley face—go Cyclones!

Though, as some might observe, rather than watching the game I was watching the grass grow as I cut it off. Again, true.

Well, enough truth for today. Some flowers are still blooming, and while nights are cooling, summer isn’t really totally gone yet. Even migrating birds are hanging out still—I saw a hummingbird on my Rose o f Sharon this morning. Summer will be gone when the hummingbirds are, and when the big maple kicks in and there’s six inches of leaves on the deck.

Then, raking won’t be a quick, pleasant 45-minute walk in the yard before a mow, but an all-day, back-testing chore.

No wonder I only want to do it twice in a fall!

A Tale Of Two Skies

Sky looking north over Rockwell-Collins in Cedar Rapids on Tuesday.

Tuesday on the way home, I shot the picture of the unsual looking cloud off to the north.

There was a chance of rain that night, but it looked sadly as if the rain was staying out of Cedar Rapids. However, last night storms rumbled through and dumped a fair amount of rain. This morning I was unsure of biking into work—should I take a chance or should I drive?

I rode my bike, and it sprinkled on me and I got a bit damp. But, just about ¼ mile south of my house, where F Avenue NE crosses Collins Road to enter Rockwell-Collins parking lots, the rain abated—I was traveling south of a narrow band of rain that remained to my north.

And the sky just looked very interesting, with the sunrise peeking around the clouds.

I noticed that there was water running in Dry Creek again. I won’t have to water my gardens for a couple of days, and that’s nice.

And the interesting skies were good to look at, too.

Wednesday morning, looking east along Collins Road at F Avenue NE in Cedar Rapids.

Tune for Tuesday: How I Feel About Iowa Weather

You wouldn’t know it based on the red-headed Scottish singer who fronts this group, but Garbage formed in Madison, Wisconsin.  So that makes them local enough to sing about our Iowa drought (although, no doubt, they didn’t know that’s what they were singing about at the time).

A Little Rain Respite in this Dry Year

Rain at Mount Mercy University campus, around 8:15 p.m. Aug. 8–not used to seeing wet and clouds. Rain felt good–can we have more, please?

I felt as if I didn’t recall what rain looked like. It fell over the weekend and I was inside, remote from it, and Saturday’s rain tumbled down so quickly that it seemed over before it started.

Wednesday was different—several bouts of rain, including morning sprinkles and a pretty good downpour at sunset.  I was out to observe and feel the rain both times.

And when the grandchildren came over to play this morning, the leaves on the trees were all wet, and when the breeze stirred them, drops of water came tumbling down.

Yet, the ground seemed try. I get the feeling Audrey would not have had the kids play outside—because she said, from the deck, that it “looks muddy.”

It was not. Dry Creek is almost again dry, despite what The Weather Channel says was 0.89 inches of rain yesterday.

The ground just soaked it up, and the top layer of ground is already looking a bit dry. It’s amazing what a drought will do.

Anyway, at least most bushes and trees look happier today. We have a break from extreme heat, and some moisture in the ground.

We also had a chance of rain today, although the sun is shining this afternoon. I hope some moisture from the sky yet finds us, as we can sure use the rain.

Agriculture Secretary Tom Vilsack set off a minor fuss when he said he is praying for rain—but other than prayer, what is a federal official to do?

Fight climate change, I suppose.

Anyway, as long as we’re praying, a pause to say thanks for the rain that has fallen this week. It’s been the wettest week in Cedar Rapids since, well, sometime in May, I suppose. Two rainy days in under seven days.

Dare I hope for more? Might I offer up a prayer this afternoon?

Rain, rain, come today, gladly I would forfeit play. Amen.

Life on Mars, My Garden and Other Arid Places

From NASA web site, artist’s image of Curiosity rover on Martian surface. May it be so.

The NASA web site provides a countdown, and as of this writing, it’s under four hours until we find out if Curiosity gets to the red planet or Mars kills Curiosity.

Here’s hoping all goes well. Mars is now like Iowa in summer 2012—devoid of water. Well, sure, the drought on Mars has gone on for a few million years more, and the corn there looks even worse, by a bit.

But, in this arid summer of 2012, it’s great that humans are (knock on wood) landing another rover on Mars. Our curiosity about our own universe is a positive thing—and one of the few public policy areas where I very much disagree with the Obama administration.

Sure, many government belts ought to be tightened. But not the one that fuels basic scientific research and tells us about ourselves. NASA ought not be starved for funds, even in a recession.

And I worry what might happen if Curiosity crashes. The billions spent on sending the rover were not a “waste,” even in that case, because space exploration requires some costly gambles.

Anyway, I hope, dear readers, by the time most of you see this, that the first images from Curiosity are being posted by NASA.

Back on Planet Earth, Iowa got some much needed rain Saturday. About two inches fell, the first significant rain since May. The blessing was not unmixed—high winds at one point left 16,000 people in Cedar Rapids in the dark when tumbling trees severed power lines—but we’ll take the rain and wish for more.

In my gardens, there are some plants hanging on and others suffering. I fear I may lose some ferns—we had a nice patch peeking through our rock retaining wall, but most of the wall ferns are withered and brown. Even some “in-ground” ferns are looking sick or dead, despite the watering I’ve been doing in the garden. Today, after the rain, a few of the “dead” ones are sending up new growth, so there is hope as long as the 100-degree arid days don’t stretch on again.

Astilbe is suffering, and some clumps have died. Hydrangea are dropping, and the largest of these bushes, on the northwest corner of the house, has more dead than live parts (but may survive, since a bush may come back if any of it lives). The crab apples in front are panting for water and slowly retreating. The older ones in back are tougher, but still don’t look happy.

Most Hostas are OK, but a few, even in shady areas, look sunburned.

And then there are the baby trees. I had some Catalpa started from seeds, most of which have expired (not the transplant from Mimi’s yard, however, which is going strong). I planted seven Arbor Day Foundation trees this spring (in a pack of ten, three died over the winter), and three are OK, one is barely hanging on, one has lost all its leaves but seems to be trying to come back, and two seem to be just about knocking on heaven’s door.

Well, all in all, it felt a bit odd today to mow. I have not done that in more than a month—this is the first July in my memory where it was so dry all month long that the grass didn’t grow and didn’t have to be mowed. It was a big chore because I had to rake six weeks worth of fallen sticks and an unusual covering of mid-summer leaves from the yard before the mow.

I can only hope that August might bring a few more mows. And some good news from our arid red neighbor. Even if I am fretting about my not-wet garden, I’m also thinking of you, Curiosity.

August 6 update:  Well, as you know, NASA did it.  Kudos.  I found this video which outlines what NASA did.  Despite the cheesy background music, I do think it’s quite an accomplishment:

New York Times story describes the challenge well, too.

Tune For Tuesday is Melting in the Dark

All the sweet green icing flowing down …

I used a “water weasel,” a kind of child’s toy sprinkler, to water selected sections of my yard Monday. No, I’m not trying to make the grass green—it can stay brown and dormant until the drought eases. But, my hose watering has mostly benefited the youngest of my trees, those planted this year, and the new plants in my gardens.

The drought has gone on so long that moderate-sized trees are showing stress. The tulip tree, a large-looking tree at around 25 feet tall, but still a youngster in tree-age terms, is turning yellow.

That may not be a terrible sign—one survival strategy that native North American trees employ is to check out early on a drought year—to go dormant for the long winter sleep in summer and hope for better times next year. Still, it’s hard to tell dormancy from death, and there’s a fine line in a drought such as this.

So the water weasel was making a few selected regions of my yard damp for the sake of adolescent trees, such as the tulip, some stressed bushes and sad-looking crab apples. My idea is to maybe do this once a week—because these larger trees have more capacity to survive than the little babies that get watered every other day, and because it just takes too darn much water to soak a region deeply so as to do trees of any size any good.

Anyway, the grandkids were over playing and running through the weasel. For some reason, that made Audrey and I think of MacArthur Park, which we sang snatches of. Ben was home from Ames for his between summer and fall interlude, and he’s never heard “MacArthur Park.”

Above is the “pure” version. It’s the sort of song that truly needs no remake, so of course the disco queen had to do one, below.  Ben, you must listen to both, and don’t cheat and check out early.  And yes, you can help Donna sing.  Here’s hoping that our sweet green icing will be flowing down soon, as we need some rain to leave our cakes out in …

For #MMUrides: Early tune for Tuesday

CR Garden Joe will be on break for a while, a hiatus, while I trek across northern Iowa on my bicycle doing RAGBRAI.

It will be more than 400 blistering miles. For at least half of next week, forecast highs in Iowa are in triple digits—we are in the midst of a historic drought and heat wave.

Still, if I feel macho doing RAGBRAI, I can put it in perspective by reading this Gazette story about a World War II vet doing his first RAGBRAI. You go, Clarence!

Anyway, a bit early for next Tuesday, when I will be in the midst of my hot break off the grid, yeah, I’m sure it’s expected, but here’s the early tune for Tuesday: