The Color Purple & Flying Worms

The wisteria that nearly covers two sides of the garden fence is now in full bloom, the lovely lavender flowers punctuated by the bright gold California poppies nearly buried in the weeds (another project for another day).  There's a story behind this wisteria vine.  When I bought the house in West Sacramento, I put in a wisteria that took hold and grew.  I lived there for eighteen years.  Not once in eighteen years did that plant put out even one flower.  I was so disappointed.  Steve and I moved up here.  Running errands in town one year, I noted several nurseries and the blooming wisterias and mentioned to Steve that at least one could tell if they were getting a plant that would flower.  Some while later, he and a friend went to town and came back with a small wisteria vine as a surprise for me, probably the one vine in the nursery without any blossoms or buds, and I silently thought, "Oh, no.  Here we go again."  It took several years for this plant to come into its own, but once it did....  It was so pleasant out on the point that I stayed and weeded out three of the smaller barrels.  The chickens are always so pleased when I take on this chore, as they always get big piles of succulent greens as I go back to the house.

One of the best decisions I've made was to plant these lilacs in front of the kitchen windows.  This is, of course, the time of year when they are at their most spectacular, their sweet perfume wafting in on the breeze.  Butterflies flit among the purple flowers, and birds of many varieties sit in the branches right at eye level.  The bushes have grown tall enough now to provide some shade in the summer from the strong afternoon sun.

It is the season of the flying worms.  I have no idea what these little bright-green wigglers become, but they come every year.  They float through the air on strands of what look like cobweb.  When I was flying a small plane, I would see them as high as five thousand feet up, pretty amazing.

Putting the girls to bed in the barn last night, I checked the nest for the baby mice.  I'd looked in the morning and they were all there and alive.  In the evening, not a sign of even one.  Since this is my story and I can make up any ending I wish, I've decided that the mama mouse came and carried them, one at a time, to a safer place of her own choosing.  I like happy endings.