June Garden Journal

Today’s temperature was 104°, a record high for San Antonio. These photos were taken earlier in the month. I’ve harvested the tomatoes and given up on the squash, but the flowers are still beautiful. The city expects to go to Stage 3 water restrictions this week, so unless a tropical storm hits the Gulf of Mexico and floats north, summer gardening is over until September. For now, I’m enjoying what my next-door neighbor calls my “urban oasis.”

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Butterflies are abundant this month. This guy is perched on a plant called Mist. Since my garden is pesticide free, and I purposely planted extra parsley for the caterpillars, we see more than ever.

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This pot has held nearly every kind of plant without success. I should have tried strawberries first! I started too late for a real crop, but I'm inspired for next year. 4 o'clocks round out the rest of the bed.

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Echinacea are in the foreground. Salvia, basil and roses grow in the back. I love this jumble of blooms.

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Esparanza love the heat. Grandpa Ott's Morning Glories climb the fence on strings of jute.

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I managed to harvest quite a few Celebrity tomatoes before the sun roasted the plants. The heat from the brick wall is a problem in this bed.

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The canna in the bathtub is a conversation piece. Our goldfish eat the mosquitoes off the surface.

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I've been warned about the invasive nature of Cypress Vine, but I couldn't resist planting my patio window boxes. The leaves are lacy and green, and a tiny red flower blooms like a star.


Redux: Day 4

waterlilly

  • This water lilly is blooming in my bathtub fish pond. The goldfish like to hang out just under the lilly’s petals.
  • I spent most of the day at a doctor’s appointment, so it wasn’t much of a writing day.  I edited a few pages in the waiting room, but I didn’t make any real progress.
  • I planned to take this day off from writing, so I’m not behind.

The Goldfish Bowl

Since 1997, I’ve been the owner of an antique bathtub.  It’s a large white-enameled vessel, bigger than most. It sits on a platform instead of claw feet.  The tub migrated to my house from the school where I used to teach. It was a play prop that lived in my garage, and later, my backyard.  It held tomato plants once.  When that didn’t work out, it sat in the flower bed, empty.  Well, almost empty. I’m not counting random leaves or occasional gecko.

Every time my dad saw it, he suggested I give it to my sister to use as a watering trough for her cows. Never mind that my sister lives 500 miles away or that the tub is gargantuan-heavy, or that I paid good money for it. Dad couldn’t be dissuaded.  As far as he was concerned, it was good for watering cows.

I once had delusions about remodeling my bathroom. I fantasized soaking in the massive white basin, filled with fragrant bubbles, while I read trashy novels and ate bonbons.  Like that would ever happen.  

Bacon joked about making it into a fish pond.  This week his dream came true.  I plugged the drain, filled the tub with water, and made a dozen trips to Lowe’s for pond supplies.  After three days of work and one emergency call to Cowgirl Crisp (my sister), I am the proud owner of a ginormous goldfish bowl.  


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