The high speed fairies continue to denied me their bounty. The medecine men from Storm came out, climbed to my root, waved their totems and chanted but they could not make the the magic happen. They mumbled something about “lining up a micronode down the line” (another cryptic incantation) and hurried off, promising to be in touch when the heavens are aligned more auspiciously. Hmph.
Anyways, this year for the first time in a few I seem to have manage to get a giant pumpkin 
to fruit. It may look small now, but I have every confidence it’ll be a contender for the fair at the end of August. If nothing else, our experience is that the giant pumpkins make a wonderful, sweet, mild pie filling (and muffins, and cookies, and a delicious pumpkin ginger chutney). And lots of it, too. Lots. More than sufficient quantities. And it’s really good for you.
The monk peas are in full bloom, and they have a very attractive flower. All delicate pinks and veined with crimson. Not at all like the tonsored and robed monks I picture cultivating these guys back in the 1300’s. The little pictire here doesn’t do full justice to their beauty, but until the high speed internet gets hooked up (in a couple of weeks) this is the best I can do.
We’ve grown these peas for the last few years, although the squirrels tend to get an unfair share. We don’t seem to have a problem with squirrels this year. The local population seems to have, um, dropped. I pity those poor guys over on the other side of the lake. I suspect they’re experiencing a bumper crop of the little devils.
We do have other wildlife. Lots of fences are keeping those nasty pointy-hooved forest rats (hey, that’s deer to you) away so far: the electric fence is keeping the peas and beans safe but the potatoes have been well-trimmed. I spotted a pair of Colorado beetles making the beast with two carapaces in the giant pumpkins, and we have a family of snakes in the woodpile which makes it hard to move (we have to move the wood to fix the collapsed woodshed). Nobody wants to disturb the little guys while they’re sunning themselves so comfortably.
Finally, I’ll finish up with a picture of a damselfly alighted on a Jerusalem artichoke leaf. Damselflies and dragonflies (which come earlier in the year) are the only creatures that can move all four wings independently. That means they can hover or fly backwards or sideways, a great adaptation if you’re a predator and prey. It’s stood them well: there are fossilized dragonflies as far back as the carboniferous period and they’re almost identical to modern species. It was much much warmer during the carboniferous than it is today. I suspect the dragonflies might still be here in another few million years. We should be so lucky.