The weatherman says the heat is coming... and the dragonflies have finally arrived

With temps expected to get to 100F (38C) over the next few days, I'll be trying to find cool places to duck into. And I probably won't venture out into the garden during the day... well, maybe for just a peek at the pond. If I sit under the pomegranate bush the heat isn't so bad.

And going out in the garden at twilight after a hot day is one of my favorite things to do.

It's "dragonfly weather" right now and as the sun sinks in the sky the dragonflies begin their evening hunt--darting back and forth in an aerial display forming a canopy 8-12 feet over the garden. "Dragonfly weather" is magical.

Hubby and I were out working in the back garden at twilight today and got to witness the first time the dragonflies have been out en masse. Hubby finished installing a trellis on the fence for some climbing roses I'll be putting into the ground, while I dug a hole and transplanted a rose that was in the wrong spot for us to complete the garden plans we've been working on the past couple of weeks. We've been fighting mosquitos when we go out to work in the evening, but this evening the dragonfly squadron helped considerably. It was wonderful.

So if I have to put up with the mid-day heat to get "dragonfly weather", then so be it.

Enjoying the coral-colored brilliance of the annual pomegranate blossoms

With the close of May comes the bloom of the pomegranate bush. And it doesn't matter how many years I witness it, the color of the bright coral blossoms never ceases to intrigue and delight me. I left the photos for this post as close to SOOC ("straight out of camera") so I could share their brilliant hue.

As they mature, the ruffly petals of the pomegranate blossoms flutter down onto the pond below and float like brightly colored confetti left over from a party I just missed--nature's confetti.

The bush always produces far more buds than it can turn into mature fruit so some of the waxy-based blooms fall off along with the petals. I find the vivid stars in nooks around the pond. A few end up on my bench where I often sit and meditate wishing that a hummingbird would come and sip on the blooms that are still attached on the boughs just over my head.

I often get my wish.

My hummingbird friends, along with the other pollinators that frequent the garden, are helping the pomegranate do its job of producing fruit. By autumn, the waxy bases of the blooms that have remained on the bush will have ballooned to hold hundreds of rubies filled with tart pomegranate juice. 

For now I am content with enjoying the profusion of the tropical-looking flowers that make me smile. 

Abundance: What I see in a pomegranate

I have a favorite book that I discovered the summer of 2007. It's entitled "Beloved Bridegroom" by Donna B. Nielsen. I love understanding historical contexts to symbols found in art, literature and poetry (no surprise I was an art history major in college). Donna Nielsen book about ancient Jewish marriage and family customs gave me so much more by making the symbolic meanings of things in my Mediterranean-climate garden come alive. One symbol that has become particularly poignant for me is the pomegranate.

"The Hebrew word translated 'pomegranate' is 'rimmon' or 'bell.' Pomegranates are notable for their beautiful red flowers, shapely fruit, sweet flavor (to those in the Middle East!), and prodigious number of seeds. The fruit is the size of an orange and has a calyx which resembles a crown." [p 80]

"In Jewish thought, pomegranates have an association with the clothing of the High Priest (Exodus 28:33-34), and also because of their many seeds, with the promises of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob (Genesis 15:5)." [p v]

"Because of its decorative form, [the pomegranate] has long been a popular motif in Jewish art. The flowers of the pomegranate served as patterns for the 'golden bells' and also for 'open flowers' embroidered on the temple robes of the High Priest [of the tabernacle]. Fabric pomegranates adorned the hem of the robe, alternating with golden bells. The erect calyx-lobes on the fruit served as inspiration for [King] Solomon's crown, and incidentally for all crowns from that time on.

"Israelites were exhorted by their sages to 'be as full of good deeds as a pomegranate is full of seeds,' and good students were said to model their study habits upon the pomegranate, eating only the good fruit, but discarding the bitter peel." [p 80]

Now when I see the ruby seeds a pomegranate spilled on the ground after the fruit has burst open with ripeness, I think of the abundance in my life. Each seed symbolizes one of the rich and treasured blessings I enjoy.

And I am thankful.

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Autumn in the Rosehaven Cottage gardens: Pomegranate on abalone

There were a number of things left in the garden from the two previous owners when we bought our house that would become Rosehaven Cottage. But they were hidden like buried treasure.

One such treasure was the pomegranate bush that had been cut to the ground. Not one limb remained. I didn't know it was there until it started sending up shoots from the ground. I wondered what it was for a while, but it didn't take long for me to recognize its shiny thick leaves on straight light branches with a thorn here and there. It was indeed a pomegranate. Over the past 10 years, I've let it grow under the supervision of my gardener's shears, and it has rewarded us magnificently with a beautiful bush that now towers at least 12 feet over our heads. In late spring, its tropical looking deep coral-hued blossoms delight us and the hummingbirds alike. By mid summer, those blossoms have turned into green orbs hanging like ornaments on the boughs of the bush. By the first day of autumn, the orbs have taken on a lovely blush, and by October, the rosy skins of the fruits are bursting open to reveal the glistening ruby jewels within.

Another treasure we found throughout the garden were empty abalone shells from the former owners' abalone expeditions in the San Francisco Bay in years past. Some shells were embedded in the concrete half-walls of a dilapidated covered lanai at the back of the garden. Other shells I found in piles under a few layers of fresh earth formed from leaves and debris left to compost. Each shell I've found (intact or otherwise) I've added to a collection that dots the edges of the pond I dug the first winter we were here. It seems fitting to have the abalone at waters edge, catching rainwater for lizards and other small critters to drink from.

The pomegranate bush grows at the pond's edge as well with its autumn fruit often falling on the stones and abalones in its shade, thus making pomegranates on abalone a common sight here in Rosehaven Cottage's autumnal gardens.

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Brugmansia Sniffing and Pomegranates Blushing

Silly me! It didn't dawn on me to try and smell the brugmansia blossoms until Kylee from Our Little Acre commented that I should go take a whiff. Shortly after reading her comment, Hubby and I went out together to sniff for the first time. Wow! The scent is heavenly! It smells like a hybrid scent of lilac and daffodil to me.

I don't know why it didn't occur to me that they would have a scent. I guess it's because I've always been so entranced by the sheer size of these large blooms (about 4 inches wide and over 6 inches in length) I didn't even think to smell them. Silly me!

After the sniffing was done, I enjoyed photographing in the light of a summer evening--the best light for my style of shooting.

Hubby was headed back in the house when he stopped, turned and said, "Here's a sure sign that autumn is coming!"

I looked up from shooting the brugmansia to see Hubby cradling a blushing pomegranate in his hand. For Hubby, this is sign of hope--a sign that the heat of summer will actually end one day--sooner rather than later. He was very happy to see the blush on the shiny pomegranate skins. So was I.

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