Tan is the color of the season

Not much is happening in our garden these days — except that the lawn becomes more and more tan-colored as the long dry season continues.

This year, we stopped watering it about the end of June. It seemed wrong to maintain green grass while the hills in our view were brown, and some city neighborhoods were having their water cut off during the daytime.

Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

Above is a view of the upper and lower lawns.

I took these pictures this morning.  The sky was actually full of grey, rather menacing clouds (and dusty haze), and there was some wind.   This is not unusual for August, but we haven’t had any rain since May, except very briefly about three weeks ago and almost all night two weeks ago. That last one was nice, and the grass seemed to get a little greener within 12 hours, but it didn’t last.   The long rainy season normally begins in early September.

We do still water the flower borders, although not very generously.  Kniphofia, daylilies, gerbera daisies, lantana, Missouri primrose, and small shrub roses are blooming steadily.  But, of course, most plants are in a “holding pattern” and not really increasing in size.  I want to make some changes and additions to the borders, but I’ll wait until we have a rain or two.  Then, we need to work quickly before the soil becomes too soggy.

Below is the lower lawn, looking south at the steps at the center of the lawn. Actually, the tan is kind of pretty.

Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

Below, a closeup.  I know it will come back, but it’s hard not to get out the sprinkler.Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

Below,  from the upper lawn, looking back across the lawn to the northwest — with a hazy view of central Kigali.

Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

I’ve been working more on the vegetable garden lately.  This summer winter, we’ve divided it into many small* raised beds instead of a few really large ones.  It’s easier to manage now, and the kale, strawberries, basil, dill, arugula, lettuce, and rosemary are doing well — in the photo below.

Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

That’s one of our two compost piles in the back.  You can just see a bamboo pole sticking out of it.  I pull the pole out occasionally and feel it.  If it’s warm and damp, the pile should be cooking nicely.

Below are my still-green cherry tomatoes; I planted both red and yellow.  The plants look good now, but when the rains start, they may suffer from too little sun and too much water. The dry season (with watering) is a good time for tomatoes and basil, but I should have started them sooner.Our garden in the dry season/enclos*ure

Finally, below, this is a little sad.  It’s an child’s stuffed toy — no head, no legs — that the hawks in the tree above pushed out of their nest.

Toy dropped by hawk/enclos*ure

The nest is at least 3′ across and seems to be made of as much waste paper and cloth as of sticks and twigs.  A few weeks ago, I found someone’s bank statement under the tree, complete with name, account number, and balance.  It’s now shredded and in the compost pile; I gave this little fellow a burial there too.

When we get our first big rain and wind storm, I expect to be picking up all sorts of things.


*3′ or 4′ x 5′ (more or less)

Vintage hibiscus blossoms

Wordless Wednesday at enclos*ure -- Hibiscus blossoms, ca. 1900-15, Detroit Publishing Co., via Library of CongressPalm Beach, Florida, ca. 1900-15, by Detroit Publishing Co., via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.

Where the hibiscus flares would cymbals clash. . . .

— Grace Hazard Conkling, from “Symphony of a Mexican Garden

The Sunday porch: Strawberry Hill

Vintage Photo of Strawberry Hill, Forkland vic., Greene County, Alabama, via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division Strawberry Hill, Greene County, Alabama, in 1939.  Photo by Frances Benjamin Johnston, via the Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division. (Click on the image for a larger view.)

I’ve been looking at and bookmarking a lot of old photographs of beautiful porches lately, so today, I’m starting a Sunday series for these pictures.

The porch, particularly the front porch, connects — with a pause — the private interior of the house with the communal landscape beyond it.   Andrew Jackson Downing wrote:

A porch strengthens or conveys expression of purpose, because, instead of leaving the entrance door bare, as in manufactories and buildings of inferior description, it serves both as a note of preparation, and an effectual shelter and protection to the entrance. . . .

The unclouded splendor and fierce heat of our summer sun, render this general appendage a source of real comfort and enjoyment; and the long veranda round many of our country residences stands instead of the paved terraces of the English mansions as the place for promenade; while during the warmer portions of the season, half of the days or evenings are there passed in the enjoyment of cool breezes, secure under the low roofs supported by the open colonnade, from the solar rays, or the dews of night.

In his pattern books of the 1840s and 50s, Downing popularized the front porch for the American home as a link to nature.

I see it as a box seat for the theater of the garden or of the street.  Although the one above seems to have half drawn its curtains against the buzzing and chirping action of the cottage garden below.

The porch — and 1821 house attached — still exist, although without the vines and flowers.  The surrounding land is now a cattle ranch. In fact, it is currently for sale for about $3.8 million.

A study in steps: coffee

Coffee sacks stairs, Rwanda Trading Company:enclos*ureThis is a little stairway to heaven for me.

Coffee sacks stairs, Rwanda Trading Company:enclos*ureYesterday, I joined a group visiting the Kigali processing plant of the Rwanda Trading Company, an American-owned coffee exporter.

The company handles about 20% of Rwanda’s coffee.

Parchment coffee, Rwanda Trading Company:enclos*ureThe sacks are full of “parchment” coffee — dried, but unhulled beans.

In the U.S., you can buy Rwanda Trading Company’s coffee at Wal-Mart or Sam’s Club or online here.

. . . Coffee steam rises in a stream, clouds the silver tea-service with mist, and twists up into the sunlight, revolved, involuted, suspiring higher and higher, fluting in a thin spiral up the high blue sky. A crow flies by and croaks at the coffee steam. The day is new and fair with good smells in the air.

— Amy Lowell, from “Spring Day