It's a hot July day in the gardens of Rosehaven Cottage

Today is a the kind of day we often get in July. The temperature is hovering around 95F (35C). Even though I'm thankful the temps haven't gone up into the triple digits (above 38C), it's still hot with the sun baking everything.

The fennel's as high as an elephant's eye (to borrow a line from Oklahoma), and on days like this the pollinators are out in full force swarming around the blooms (above). If we cooked with fennel pollen like some of the chic chefs we've seen on the Food Network, we'd be set.

The air is often still without a breeze leaving the flag undisturbed--not even a flutter.

The rudbeckia that's been in bloom since January is showing some signs that it really preferred the cool weather to this heat.

When the days are hot and cloudless, the birds and bees are very thirsty. That means for frequent visitors to the bird fountains.

It also means there will be frequent fights at the bird fountains--even between the normally amiable Mr. and Mrs. Finch (and family).

There are places of respite like in the shade of the pomegranate, plum and lemon trees around the pond. Blue damselflies find places to light on the saucer-sized lily pads growing over the entire surface of the pond while naturalized mosquito fish and goldfish dart around in the water underneath.

And an unseasonal California poppy volunteer, that would usually only be growing in February or March, finds a cool shady spot to put forth the tiniest of blossoms.

As for me, once I take my stroll around the garden to check on everything, I go back inside where the air conditioning keeps out the heat. I'll wait until evening before I venture back out again.

Under the canopy of the Cecile Brunner

Used a modified version of the Lomo action from Addicted to Design

Used texture from Dyrk.Wyst

That's where the contractor was trying to find relief from today's heat... under the canopy of the Cecile Brunner. It's been too warm today--over 80F (27C). That's way too intense for March around here. I'm hoping this is just a small heatwave with a cool-down to follow because I really don't want to have to deal with temps like this until they're supposed to come in May.

Every time it starts to warm up like this early in the year, I start to feel a bit panicked with thoughts like, "I didn't get everything done I needed to get done in the garden before the heat set in! It better cool down so I can get the other big projects done. Otherwise, I have to wait until November!"

Hubby calls it "awful-izing".

Fortunately, the days are longer so I can sneak out in the evening after the sun is farther down in the sky. I'm not supposed to have to play this game with the sun until May though. Okay... I'm awful-izing. I'll stop now.

At least SOMETHING likes this heat!

At 11:40 a.m. this morning, I was dismayed to see that the digital thermometer read 100 F (38 C). I love the sun but not when it beats down at temps this high. According to weather reporters, today could potentially reach 115 F (46 C). Our climate is considered a Mediterranean climate, but even at that, these temps are off the charts.

Fortunately, living in very close proximity to the waters of the San Francisco Bay has its advantages during our summer heatwaves. The water usually has a cooling effect once the sun slips over the horizon, causing our temps to dip down overnight often as much as a full 30-40 degrees. So although our heatwaves rival those of a desert clime, they are far more tolerable.

The water and the hilly geography of the San Francisco Bay Area creates many micro-climates within a relatively small radius less than a hundred miles. Even though San Francisco is only about 45 miles (72 km) away, it is a world away as far as its growing zone. And Oakland is only 30 miles (48 km) away but still there is a vast difference between there and here.

This overriding consideration for micro-climates leads to some tricky calculating when one is at a nursery picking out plants. If I'm at a nursery anywhere too far outside my micro-climate, the selection will not be appropriate for my home garden even though I may only be a half hour drive away from home. The Sunset Western Garden Book eventually becomes any serious Bay Area gardener's best friend for this very reason. There's usually a copy at every nursery I go to in case I need to make a quick check before buying something I'm not familiar with.

One of the plants that can either thrive or fade depending on which Bay Area micro-climate it's planted in is bougainvillea. Bougainvillea LOVES heat! In San Francisco proper, some strains of bougainvillea may not do so well because of the city's famous foggy skies and cooler temps (hence the infamous quote "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco" [often inaccurately attributed to Mark Twain]).

Well, here in our little micro-climate the bougainvillea only struggles through a few freezes and frosts every winter and then comes back like gangbusters once spring has sprung. By summer, it is trying to take over the driveway that borders the white picket fence the bougainvillea climbs for support. I whack it back regularly so Hubby and his car aren't injured by the deadly inch-long thorns, and it just keeps growing. The reflected heat from the concrete driveway and the full sun location make it thrive.

One particularly bad freeze a couple of winters ago zapped all of bougainvillea so bad that I'd thought for sure I'd lost them. Even the big 3-4 inch trunks died. But the bougainvillea came back sending shoots out from its roots--which is why I have no idea which varieties I still have except for the obviously identifiable Raspberry Ice with its variegated leaves (see top photo). The rest are now a mystery.

So on this day of record-breaking high temps, there will be at least one living thing thriving and basking in the heat out in the garden. And that will be the bougainvillea.

As for me, I'm hibernating inside in my studio with a paintbrush in hand. The bougainvillea can have my share of the outside for today.

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After the heat is over...

After the heat is over as the sun slips over the western horizon and the moon comes peeking through the branches of pomegranate blossoms...








...the garden remains awake and alive for every last second of light.

The bees take their last sips of water at the pond's edge to take back to the hive where they will rest for the night.










Oreo, the garden kitty, emerges from her cool napping spot that has kept her protected from the day's scorching heat.

She patrols her garden before nightfall, pausing to take a little drink of refreshing water from the pond before she moves on to sniff all the smells she missed during her daytime slumber.

















Although it is getting dark soon, the bougainvillea are happy after having soaked in a good dose of heat and sunshine throughout the day.



The Bells of Ireland stand green and cool as if the heat didn't even touch their corner of the garden. Green and lush reminders that spring was not so long ago, these bells must be quietly tolling the day's end for only the garden to hear.













The Japanese Water Iris in their stately purple robes stand majestically against the twilight in the western sky.

The deep cool tones of blue and purple will soon be mirrored in the summer night sky.

Cool Flowers on a Hot Sunday Garden Walk

Above: The view today of the front garden path leading from our front door out to the pergola

This weekend is unseasonably warm in our part of the world. The sun is bright and the air is bordering on oppressively hot. We're having to run the air-conditioner for the first time this year because the temperature monitor reads 87 F (30.5 C) in the shade. We get the odd hot weekend in spring here in the Bay Area so this isn't really unusual. It will cool off again in a day or so as the winds shift and the cool air blows in from off the Pacific Ocean.

Despite the heat, I went out in the garden to take photos of some of the spectacular blooms that have been coaxed open quickly by the warmth of the sun. And I found little pockets of "cool" in the blues and purples of the blooms around the garden. I've written before that I have a weakness for all blooms that are blue or blue-ish in hue. You can imagine how tickled "blue" I am with the current state of the garden.

My bearded iris are doing very well this year. In fact, many of them are blooming for the first time EVER despite being in the ground and producing spears for years prior to this. I'd begun to lose hope that I'd ever see a bloom and figured I'd just have to enjoy the great dagger-shaped foliage of the iris (which I love).

But this year has been a good year for the bearded iris (guess they just needed to get acclimated). And as they've bloomed they've each been a little tiny surprise package for me because I had forgotten what colors I planted! Add to that all the moves I'd done to the rhizomes from one part of the garden to another, and I've lost track of everything all together in the bearded iris department! I know. Master gardeners much be cringing as they read this. At least I'm admitting it right?


Anyway...

This bearded iris may be a Dover Beach (I know I planted that variety at one time) but I don't think it is because the Dover Beach has a whiter top to it and less yellow on the beards than this one has.

Did you know that bearded iris have a "fragrance"? It's not the scent most people would consider to be a "fragrance", but like the other spring flower, the daffodil, bearded iris have a wonderful fresh scent that seems to just say "spring" for me. It's kind of like the smell that hits you when you walk into a florist shop but more distinct and uniquely "iris".

Did you also know that a lot of bearded iris have a pearlescent quality to their petals? So when you look at one in the right light, the petals glisten and glint like someone has sprinkled them with a pinch of pixie dust. If you enlarge the close-up photo at right you may be able to see the glistening on the petals at the top.

Moving on from the iris...

I am thrilled to bits that my Blue Ribbon rose is in bloom! It's blooms have a wonderful nostalgic rose scent that smells just like the rose scented lotions, potions and perfumes my Grammy used to have on her dressing table. When I breathe it in, the heirloom essence takes me back to times that were even before I was.

This favorite rose is a great producer that has about 2-3 really good "shows" each year. The blooms come out in large groups, put on a grand show, and then the rosebush waits for a month or two before its encore performance(s).

I like this rose because of its dark glossy foliage. Roses with dark glossy foliage tend to be the most disease resistant and trouble-free of all roses. So when I'm choosing a bareroot rose at the nursery, I check the package to see what the description of the leaves is and whether it says "dark glossy foliage" or something to that effect. If it doesn't, then it doesn't matter how much I love the photo on the front of the package. I put it back on the nursery shelf for someone else to buy and fuss over. I'll take naturally trouble-free roses anyday, thank you very much. And this Blue Ribbon rose is of that ilk. Combine that with being a "blue" flower and you've got a true winner in my book!

Now I'm going to go and relax in the air-conditioned living room with Hubby and wait out this heat until the evening brings cool breezes off the water.

Triple Digit Day

On a day like today when the temperature climbs to 100 degrees in the shade, everything in the garden changes priorities. Instead of seeking the warmth of the sun, nature tries to seek relief from it. Birds and insects flit about looking for a water source to quench the thirst brought on by the dry baking oven air. Flowers seem jealous of the mobility of the birds and bugs, seeming to yearn for the freedom to seek cooler climes.

I do the same. I hibernate in the comfort of Rosehaven Cottage where we are blessed to have the relief of small air-conditioning units in windows to drive the heat out. I venture out only because my photographic eye sees the photographic possibilities out the large picture window in the living room. I can only stay out for 15 minutes or so and then I duck back in to the cool refreshment inside.

During my short foray into the heat, I find things that fascinate me. For instance, the paper wasps that walk on the moving water that flowing from the waterfall in the pond. They stand on the water's surface and drink as the current carries them toward the deeper end of the pond. The honeybees choose to stay on the safety of the river rocks and sip. But the paper wasps risk their lives in their pursuit of water refreshment. No wonder I find so many floating dead on water's surface.

Some flowers in the garden really thrive in the heat. The sunflowers seem at home with their distant solar cousin gazing down on them with it oppressive rays. The bougainvillea looks perkier than ever as it basks in the heat radiated off the concrete of the driveway. The zinnia look quite pleased with the triple digit day soaking it in with all of their hundreds of scalloped petals. The canna lilies are a tropical sort and seem grateful to finally have the heat they crave.

Then I see the pomegranate bush burgeoning with its shiny fruits. It is bent over from the weight of so many as they begin to blush deeper with the onset of autumn that seems so far away on a day like today. I find a pomegranate that has literally split open while still hanging on the branch. The heat has made its ruby contents known.

I am reminded of something I just read a couple of days ago. In Jewish tradition, the pomegranate is highly symbolic. Those glistening translucent ruby morsels represented the many seeds of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. It is fitting that I found this split open fruit today in this heat, less than 72 hours after acquiring that piece of insight. The layers of symbolism flood my mind as I think of the seeds and what they represent to me in this context.

As an 135th great granddaughter of Abraham and Sarah of Agade, myself, I ponder being one of those seeds. Do I glisten? Do I shine? Am I as vibrant as they? Do I do justice to the fruit and bush that bore me? Would Abraham be satisfied to claim me as one of his own?

My mind is as laden with questions on this hot day as the pomegranate bush is with fruit.