As I mentioned in last week’s post, my husband knew my missing a race would require distraction and cheering up. After the race and breakfast, we headed to Luther Burbank’s home and gardens. They’re both usually open to the public, but when we arrived, the home was closed, leaving only the gardens to see. That was perfect for us, and we spent a blissful hour wandering among Burbank’s remarkable gardens.
Everywhere we turned, we saw something beautiful or interesting or colorful (or all three). Dahlias, princess/Peruvian lilies, sunflowers, marigolds and much more kept us happily strolling along the flower beds.
A riot of colors, textures and varieties of flowers
A Paradox walnut tree hovers over the edge of the house. The tree is 102 years old.
While August here on the blog brought a delightful journey through friends’ gardens, my own garden had some lessons to teach me. I have a volunteer tomato plant that surprised me earlier this summer. I first spotted it growing up along some hedges, and I thought, “What kind of weed has sprung up now?” As I got closer, I thought (and hoped), “Is that a tomato plant?” As soon as I smelled it, I knew.
I staked it, and it has been producing tomatoes for several weeks. Other than a little water from time to time and an additional stake or two, I’ve done very little tending of it.
Three weeks ago, I checked to see if any of the tomatoes were ripe enough to pick. I noticed a chewed leaf and then a partially gnawed tomato. I thought, “Hungry caterpillar,” and began my search. I pulled back when I saw this: