A repeat porch from June 2014. . .
“Remains of log dogtrot house near Webberville Road. . . Austin Texas,” 1935, probably by Fannie Ratchford, via Texas State Archives.
Unfortunately, it’s a little out of focus, but still beautiful.
. . . I woo the wind
That still delays his coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life!— William Cullen Bryant, from “Summer Wind“
The outdoor theater of the Piranhurst estate of Henry Ernest and Ellen Chabot Bothin, Montecito, California, 1917, hand-colored glass lantern slides by Frances Benjamin Johnston, via Library of Congress Prints and Photographs Division.
The Bothin’s fortune was made in coffee and spices (San Francisco), real estate, and water. Their estate became famous in the 1920s for the parties and performances held in its 350-acre “Tea Gardens” — which included the clipped cypress theater shown here.
Today, the site is in ruins and is part of the Mar Y Cel open space preserve. There are histories of the property here and here.
“Flower bed (blomsterrabatt) with gladiolus at Trädgårdsföreningen, The Garden Society of Gothenburg, founded in 1842,” Göteborg (Gothenburg), Sweden, 1944, a color slide by Fredrik Bruno, via Swedish National Heritage Board Commons on flickr.
The glads offer no solution:
being—falling—
you mustn’t count the days—
fulfillment
livid, tattered, or beautiful.— Gottfried Benn, from “Gladioli“
“Three women, Lysekil, Sweden,” 1880s, a cyanotype by Carl Curman, via Swedish National Heritage Board Commons on flickr.
The woman at the top of the picture is Calla Curman, wife of the photographer.
For more images like this one, check out one of my favorite blogs, It’s About Time, which is currently posting a series, “Summer Women” — beautiful mostly 19th century paintings of women and children in the garden.
We spent July 15 in France — driving home across Champagne, Lorraine, and Alsace. For almost eight hours, we looked at the gorgeous wildflowers along the sides of the highways (a lot of Queen Anne’s lace) and listened to sad, reflective compositions on the classical radio station, Musique. It was the best comfort they could offer, the announcer said, for the awful news from Nice.
But for the previous three days, we had been in Normandy, where these bright hollyhocks were blooming in the little gravel courtyard of the house where we were staying.
To see the mid-July flowers of other garden bloggers, please visit Carol at May Dreams Gardens.
