I think we've got some ying and yang going, Ink, optimism/pessimism. Of course, nobody cut down the trees across from me... I wrote this 8/28 and called it "Hanging on to Summer". Summer is probably the favorite time of year for most tropical gardeners. After all, it's the time the garden looks its best. Day to day growth is noticeable: palm spears kick up and open, bromeliads pup profusely, gingers bloom, bananas fruit, aromatic flowers perfume the air. The early morning warmth foretelling a bright and sunny day, and the lingering heat of the evening are cherished by the tropical gardener. But there is more to the love-affair with summer than peak season in the garden. The small pleasures and rituals of summer contribute to a feeling of well-being. Weekend mornings enjoying coffee and a newspaper while lounging outdoors barefoot, perhaps a light breeze ruffling the 'Travel' section as we peruse life's possibilities. The casual, abbreviated clothes outside the office: never more than flip flops on the feet, some baggy shorts or a loose skirt, arms freed from sleeves, a cocky hat to shade the sun. Summer calls for frivolous violet toenails, a light tan warms the skin, a few streaks of gold appear in the hair, I can taste salt on my lips. The abundance of seasonal fruits offers strawberries with breakfast, blueberries and canteloupe with lunch, and watermelon with dinner. The neighbors give us bags of avocados from their trees and tomatoes from their vines. The long reach of the sun allows for an early morning surf in the ocean before the crowds arrive and early evening hikes in the hills to enjoy a bit of shade and a light breeze on the trail. In summer I feel my healthiest, my strongest. It makes me feel optimistic about things that might be worrisome in winter. My mind is uncluttered and decisions are clear. The evidence is here, though; August is on the wane. The heat of day is dissipating earlier, the sunset comes too soon. The late day shadows are longer, and the color of the light is changing. While the shining wet expanse of sand on the beach is still flat and broad from the languid waves of summer, scattered with shell bits and pebbles, there is a hint of freshness in the water, an unexpected coolness on the feet. I feel an urge to grasp at every last bit of summer, squeeze out every drop. The weekend plans are piling up fast, jumbled on the calendar, can we fit it all in before October slams the door on summer? I feel a twinge of resentment about having to work five days a week during the finest time of the year. But even the youngsters who have played in the ocean all summer must resign themselves to returning to classrooms and regimented schedules. Maybe we enjoy summer so much because we cannot have it all the time. There are other things to look forward to in the coming seasons. The vanda has a bloom spike with buds expanding daily, and the laelia has sent out a tall wand, promising purple flowers in October. Maybe the fall will remain warm, maybe the winter will be mild, maybe the palms will grow through the winter, maybe the rains will be plentiful. A hummingbird swoops toward me and pauses in flight to investigate my hair, my face. He approaches, then backs off a bit, glancing up and down, purple throat flashing, wings singing, then speeds away to search for something new. I will take a sip of wine and watch the wisps of clouds turn pink.

I keep getting these images of Doug, Tom, and Diane visiting my house. As they walk out into my yard, Doug clutches his chest ("oh my...!"), Tom scratches his head ("I don't really know where to start,..."), and Diane starts counting the holes ("here a hole, there a hole..."). Anyway, many of my choices thus far have been based on feasibility and convienence: the fact that I am renting, I don't know where all the awesome gardening stores are located, I'm just now figuring out that I can plant veggies this late in the year, etc :) I think I will keep what I started with and see what happens. This weekend I will plant some more veggies but in different types of pots and with bark. In the mean time I will make sure that I move the lettuce into a more shady spot and keep the cucs, tomatoes, etc on the bottom. I will also start seeds in the next couple of weeks. And to top it off, I will start a journal as you all suggested. I might also have to start a dictionary for all these "fancy" terms you all throw around: "leggy", "damping off", "perched water",...

Another GREAT (if slightly OT but who cares) idea! Here's the blueberry buckle (courtesy of Lyman Orchards): Cake: 3/4 cup sugar 1/2 cup softened butter 1 egg 1/2 cup milk (whole or skim, doesn't matter) 2 cups flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries Blend sugar and butter together until fluffy. Add egg and mix well. Blend in milk and remaining dry ingredients. Add blueberries. Spread batter (which will be VERY thick and stiff -- don't worry, just push it into the pan with brute force!) into a greased 9x9 inch pan. Sprinkle topping (recipe below) over batter and bake at 375 degrees for 45-50 minutes. Topping: 1/2 cup sugar 1/3 cup flour 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon 1/4 cup soft butter Mix ingredients (food processor is fine - just pulse) until crumbly. Can't wait to try all these - thanks! (More on-topic: who brought the big clump of elephant ears? When I went to repot them today, I found a plastic bag of bulbs tucked at the base...any idea who was to have those and/or what they are? If they were brought for someone, I'll happily mail them on if you send me the address... I feel guilty enough already with a garage full of plants!) / Marty

I am back with a question. These did not have the sender's name on the packet so I have to address my query generally. I received a packet labeled simply "creeping yellow daisy". It may be just what I have been looking for. Would whoever sent that please let me know what it is-just the Genus would be a big help! As far as I know it could be a Sanvitalia, Wedelia trilobata, or Chrysanthemum paludosum, but I am sure there are other possibilities. Thanks! Alana