Ramblers, climbers and vines

The New Dawn is still blooming. It did not have its best year. That would have been two Junes ago, when they lived in the mist for the month of June. Now, with falling petals,  I vacuum the terrace. Really. The Iceberg has the worst blackspot of its life. Not for nothing is blackspot part my blog's 'manifesto'. Right now the rose is three quarters bald. It may work for Frenchmen but it doesn't work for roses. The truth is, this happens every year. But I forget.

I have been deadheading it scrupulously, giving it a chance to bring on a second flush, for you know who (I'm not supposed to talk about it anymore)...I am having rash thoughts.

I am very happy with Etoile de Violette. I find large-flowered clematis stunning, but these simple, wilder, older flowers appealed to me a bit more, as did the longer season of bloom - after its peak it will rebloom into September.

And on the roof the cucumbers have taken off, at last. The melons show some promise, too: At least four of the 'Sugar Babies' and three of the charentais grown from seed seem to be hanging in there, though the last are still small. I think hot weather will cure that. Frank's tomatoes are thriving, my seed-grown ones are catching up - and I will be inventing a lot of tomato-based drinks, sorbets, soup and salads, come...late July? August? And then we will be sick of them. But for now...we have forgotten, and need reminding.

Flâneuse

On my way to drop off a package at Betty's home, upstream,  in Brooklyn Heights, I walked down some streets I don't visit every day. Past cars and dogs and walkers, and nannies and strollers and UPS men and Men In Black iii set handlers, and gardens.

I love foxgloves. In this garden, which has been newly planted (last fall, perhaps?), someone cuts back an old fig to the ground, every year, then wraps it in plastic. It's not necessary any more, but I wonder if it was, then. Curious. Note-under-door time. Perhaps I should have some printed.

An actual rose arbor.

Lovely geranium. The black fence makes it pop.

Tomorrow, we'll check on the Dumbo Juneberries on our way to visit Eric and Mimi's studio on one of its cobbled streets. Perhaps I could give them a sackletful of ripe fruit.

Shelterpop gardens

Click the link to see my weekly gardening posts at Shelterpop.

At present we are doing a Plant of the Week (every week, naturally!), a Green Spotlight every two weeks, highlighting a garden or part of a garden that has caught my eye, and a Q and A with gardeners from all works of life.

Berries that ripen in June

The Juneberries (servicebrries, shad, shad blow - all Amelanchier species) have ripened on cue.

I passed four trees on Hicks Street, a couple dripping with red and dark purple fruit. I picked, I ate. They seem very plump this year, and I tasted apple. Next week Ellen and I will meet for some companionable picking from our favourite Brooklyn trees. Look for Edible Brooklyn with its berry cover! The timing could not have been more appropriate. Also check out the trees in Tear Drop Park near Ground Zero...sweet, delicious treats.

As I was photographing the berries above a guy hesitated, stepped forward, held up his iPhone and said, There's an App for that! It can tell you the species (maybe he meant genus)! He looked so excited and happy. Like a fool I said, But I know the species (I meant genus). Of course you do, he said, crestfallen. I think he was ready to demonstrate and I cut him off. Now I am sorry. Stupid. I have not seen it in action and it would have been fun. Then again having an iPhone would be fun.

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All sad, now.

Consequences

Well, the little snake tongues of hate have started to wag with The Times piece. A few mails, a comment. Inevitable, really, but it doesn't make it easier when you realize how much vitriole is out there - that impotent, anonymous variety, which could come from anyone, high, low, powerful, nervous, weak, sad, in hiding, or under your nose. This energy could be put to more positive use.

Funny, Elissa Gootman said in her article that we - our group of volunteers -  must all be optimists. I am not an optimist. But we're here, and we have to make the best of it. So what does that make me? Shame on you, said a recent comment on this blog. Called me privileged. Well, perhaps the profile picture of the glass of bubbly is provocative! But please. Called me racist. When I think of the fights I have got into because of racism, it's rather hysterically funny. But it's not.

Good grief.

That was May

...in Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens and Manhattan (sorry Staten Island. Next time).

Litter Mob 2

Litter over exposure? This is the last of it until...next week! But we did see some pretty things, too, that day, and I wanted to hold off showing it all until The Times story had run.

Tulip trees. I have never been in the park when they drop, and last week there was a crocheted carpet of them as we walked. I had not see one since I was a little girl in Bloemfontein, where the Josephs, who lived across the street from us, had a huge tulip tree shading their driveway. Mrs Joseph taught my mother to make dolmades. Tulip trees = dolmades. Anyone got any grape leaves?

I had also never seen coral fungi (second picture), which turned out to be edible, when I looked it up (can't tell genus or species) No, I left them there. This litter has put a serious dampener on my foraging...

The enormous dryad's saddle (Polyporus squamosus, and apparently quite good to eat when  young), a bracket fungi, was growing on a fallen tree. Exactly like a saddle, once they are this large and perhaps at night the dryads emerge from the trees and ride off into the stars above Brooklyn. Perhaps one day the mosaic above will be all flowers and fruit and fungi.