Swaths Of Purple Siberian Iris Within The Middle Meadow Garden Butterflies and Birds

Looking back over the month of June, iris sepals unfurl and fall creating waves of hues from lavender to deep purple . . . filling the Middle Meadow garden with hundreds of blooms lasting nearly three full weeks as new buds continue to open.

Eastern Tiger Swallowtails Papilio glaucus or Canadian Tiger Swallowtail Papilio canadensis add to the spectacle in complementary colors. On most days I count over twenty of these bright colored butterflies floating about the gardens and when they dip deep into the iris their wings become like sepals and petals.  

A wide angle lens makes everything seem smaller and farther away. 

Up close again a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird enjoys reaching in between the folds too.

Bluebird nestlings cry out above the iris from within their nest box. 

The parents are waiting for me to move on before taking their harvests to their young.

Silver-spotted Skipper feeding on Garden Heliotrope while a Spicebush Swallowtail dives into an iris.

I am guessing Eastern Tiger Swallowtail but whatever the name these creatures fill the gardens and fields in numbers during the month of June delighting in wildflowers, as well as, an array of blossoms from native and non native cultivated perennials and shrubberies. Swallowtails and other butterflies are eye candy for birds and it pains me to see their tattered wings as the days unfold. Such is life for those critters lower on the food chain.

Imagine these images with bright butterflies flitting about as birds splash and fly to and fro.

There seems to be a constant flurry of activity about the iris during the first three weeks in June.

A Spicebush Swallowtail Papilio troilus visits our gardens and this is my first sighting of this species here at Flower Hill Farm. I am not aware of the host plant Spicebush Lindera benzoin, growing on our land but perhaps a neighbor is cultivating it. I will be sure to add this native plant to our gardens soon.

Chartreuse leaves of native Thermopsis villosa offer a lovely contrast to the purple iris. 

A row of peonies falls down towards the display of iris. 

The weather was such that spring flowers all seem to come into bloom at once.

Purple from the folds of iris create a lovely backdrop for this Red-spotted Admiral as it sips the dreaded goutweed. 

Standing within the iris looking over towards a weeping cut-leaf Japanese Maple and beyond to the north garden where Rosa rugosa makes a show. More of the North Garden in mauves and pinks coming soon. "So long June!"

Recalling Landscape Tapestries of Summer Twenty-Twelve

While many are shoveling out from deep blankets of snow-drifts, I would like to escape our white wintry hillside by recalling landscape tapestries of summer twenty-twelve. Storms of blossoms unfurl throughout the spring and summer here at Flower Hill Farm attracting pollinators, birds and other beasts to our gardens, fields and forest. It is this living tapestry of color, texture, fragrance and sounds that inspired me to create this blog four years ago . . . February 6, 2009.

Over the last four years I feel I have grown as a photographer, writer and gardener from sharing the virtual world of gardens and nature with all of you. Lovely and brilliant fellow blogger Sarah of Sarah Laurence.com expressed it so perfectly in her sixth anniversary post when she wrote . . .  "What I see, I want to share with you. I do not walk alone in the snowy fields thanks to your company."

It is a joy to see the snowy fields of Maine through Sarah's eyes, as it is to see the opulent world of fellow bloggers and now dearest of friends Jane and Lance of the acclaimed Hattatt Budapest and Brighton blog. Blogging builds bridges to worlds we might never have known. It connects kindred spirits and activists for wildlife and I am so honored to know and be a co-author with so many talented gardeners and photographers on Carole Sevilla Brown's Native Plants and Wildlife Gardens blog and Ken Billington's  Focusing on Wildlife blog. I have just published the fifteenth installment of 'A Bestiary' which is a compilation of many tales regarding the wildlife that share Flower Hill Farm.

I want especially to thank all those of you who continue to visit and grace this blog with your thoughtful words even though I am not able to reciprocate as I once did. To gracious Eva, who has been with me since the beginning, who has no blog or link to share, please know that I am so deeply appreciative of your words of wisdom and endless support that always touches me to the core and inspire so much more.

The riot of life in these image memories is in such contrast to the cold and raw world that actually barricades me inside right now. I do have one door that opens inside but would have to trek through hip high drifts to get to other doors to shovel . . . and shoveling is not something I can do anymore either. Someone will arrive today or tomorrow to clear doorways and pathways, as well as, uncovering my little car. Having this medium to reach out to the world is fabulous anytime, but now, being literally 'snowed in', I appreciate it all the more. I am so grateful for not losing power and feel so for those who have. May it be restored quickly.

MANY THANKS TO YOU ALL! 

Herbaceous Peonies Throughout the Gardens

Herbaceous peonies are lusciously and clumsily spilling over in various parts of the gardens. 

First . . .  a long row of peonies . . . the remnants of an old bed . . . running down towards the 'Middle Meadow Garden' . . .  seem to hold a buttery glow within their plentiful and wholesome whorls. 

Below along the 'Terrace Path' leading up to the 'Upper Garden' . . . 

a lovely single peony survives beneath French lilacs . . . smiling . . . in hopes that as I pass by . . .  I might pull the bedstraw and bishop's weed threatening her show. Of course, I always do.

Stepping into the 'Upper Garden' . . . mostly growing wildly . . . 

two toned . . .  red speckles and soft pink folds of petals reach out above the green sea of bishop's weed. 

Nearby within the 'Upper Garden' . . . wet and full . . . the same cultivar peony as those in the long row above . . .  looking a bit disheveled, after the rain . . . within the dappled light. 

Venturing back down the stairs into the 'Lower Garden' . . . 

a mauve, white and blue palette of singles and salvias awaits.  

Bright sunlight creates such a different mood from that of the earlier early morning photos above.

Blossoms fully alive and alert to all earthly sensations 

Walking over towards the 'North Garden' . . . 

Full bodied blooms barely stand beneath a Rosa Rugosa. These were planted only about ten years ago . . . the name of the cultivar is on the tip of my tongue. The beautybush in the distance adds to the drama.

Then . . .  just over to the left . . . behind the 'Writer's Studio' near a late blooming lilac . . . 

A single vibrant mauve peony reflects the light. 

Lastly . . . similar in color to the delicate blooms above . . .  around the corner at the edge of the 'North Garden' . . . 

mouthwatering moments mingle . . . 

with unfurling . . . nearly falling over . . . 

textures and fragrances merge . . . another Rosa Rugosa looks down upon . . . 

joyous light filled peonies. 

Ah, but now the rain is doing its thing and I will have to go out tomorrow and cut off the larger peony heads and await the buds again. 

No matter . . . herbaceous peonies are so grand and I have so much room . . . even if I can only enjoy the full blown blooms for a day or two, before buckets of rainfall makes them heady and heavy . . . resembling a type of mop. 

They truly are rather conspicuous beauties and give very little to the pollinators . . . I rarely see any bees in these, as I have often seen filling their pollen baskets inside the Tree Peonies. 

I confess to loving more delicate flowers first, but there is room enough within me too . . .  to enjoy them all . . . especially in a more rambling and wildly cultivated setting. 

Dear Readers, I apologize for not knowing the names of any of these bounteous blooms. Ten and even  twenty-five years have passed and I cannot find my records right now.