Anachronism (N.):  A chronological inconsistency, a thing or person that is out of place in time, especially a juxtaposition of things from different time periods.

We have been blessed with rain.  Inches and inches of rain, sometimes falling quietly, sometimes in torrential sheets announced by booming thunder, have replenished the soil and collected in pools along the roadsides.  There was already street flooding and tidal flooding early Wednesday morning.  And the rain continues.  We’ve had cool, overcast days when the drip, drip, drip goes on for hours, slowly sinking deeper and deeper into the soil.  We’ve had wakeful nights listening to the wind and thunder growing ever closer.

Early Friday morning, I went out for a walk-about during a break in the rain.  Careful to stay on the paths, I propped up a few flopping stems, picked up some fallen branches, and admired the swollen, spreading moss on our paths.  There were new fiddleheads and fronds on ferns, alongside new vole tunnels through the soft ground.  And I was surprised by vibrant flowers which seemed to have just appeared overnight.

The Crinum lilies are blooming alongside Alliums just beginning to show color.  Several Columbine have flowers again, and the newly planted Salvias are bright with promise for a long season of color.  But what caught my attention were the huge pink flowers atop our hybrid Magnolia liliiflora trees. This is a spring blooming Magnolia which may open its first flowers in March, but usually finishes blooming in April.  Some years the flowers are caught in a late frost.

The spring bloom this year was spoiled by a cold spell.  And now the trees are trying again.  We’ve seen sporadic late bloom from these trees in past years, and it always catches us by surprise.  It is a beautiful gift of flowers out of season.

But then there is the Azalea growing nearby, also with a flower in bloom this week.  This is one of the old hybrids, planted long before the ‘Encore’ Azaleas came to market.  But there, beside the path, was one perfect pink Azalea flower.  And a few meters away a Japanese quince, which began blooming in February and bloomed continuously for weeks, just finishing in early May, is trying yet again.  I found a glossy round bud earlier in the week, and it was a fully open flower by Thursday.  The photos didn’t come out well, perhaps a combination of the light and my surprise to find these spring flowers blooming again at the end of June.

There has been little accomplished in the garden this week beyond admiring it.  I did take the opportunity to move a few baby sporeling ferns from the propagation box, where they’ve been growing for more than a year now, into proper pots.  There are more sporelings coming along, but these few clumps seemed large and mature enough to survive without the controlled humidity of the box.  I potted six small clumps and set the tray of them in a sheltered spot where they get good light and air but no sun.   They have had perfect conditions this week to establish.

This week we have had ‘rain forest weather,’ wet and cool.  Lichen glows from wet tree trunks and wet mists float down the hill and across the yard.  When the sun breaks through for a few minutes, it almost startles with its intensity and heat. 

We had flashes of sun while I was wandering about checking on things on Friday.  I was looking for a spot to hang a newly planted hanging basket with a last white flowering Dragon’s Wing Begonia we had picked up at the garden center earlier in the week.   Suddenly, I realized that my clothing was all wet, and not from rain. By the time I had hung the basket, rescued a broken stem of another Begonia growing nearby, and taken a few last photos I felt like I’d been outside a bit too long and headed back to the cool indoors.  By the time I’d put the stem in water and washed my hands we heard the rain pounding down again, and thunder rolling in the distance.  We had a few minutes of an almost tropical downpour with heavy rain that left the patio flooded once again.

I read that the eastern Atlantic Ocean, near the British Isles and Europe, is about 9F warmer near the surface than usual for this time of the year.  This is very unusual and will have huge impacts, especially for anything living in the ocean.  Water temperature affects the chemistry of the ocean, but also begins to impact circulation patterns of ocean currents, and of course the weather.

 We’ve been hearing about the extreme heat in the Gulf of Mexico, which is fueling dangerous storms across of much of the United States.  From the Eastern Pacific into the Caribbean the unusually warm water temperatures are the wild card in our summer storm forecast.  Already we have Tropical Storms Bret and Cindy moving westwards.  Yes, these named storms developed weeks earlier than usual. 

We realize the fluidity of time, the futility of expecting nature to stick to our human expectations and schedules.  We see that time is more construct than fact when nature dances to her own tunes and rhythms, perhaps more syncopated than we expect.

It can be a hard thing to understand, when change upsets our world, and harder to accept.  Chris Gloniger, an 18-year veteran TV meteorologist in Des Moines, Iowa, announced his resignation from his position at KCCI-TV this week after receiving threats and abuse from viewers over his reporting about climate change.  He is suffering from PTSD for doing his job, like so many others these days.  He is leaving public-facing meteorology for an undisclosed job that will allow him to focus more on the science of climate change.

Six on Saturday asks for six new things each week.  I’m not sure that my photos match my musings very well this time.  This week’s photos are a bit blurry, taken sometimes through glass windows and in low light.  There was the bright yellow butterfly frantically drinking from a basket of Verbena, trying to fuel up before the rain came again.  There was the huge hawk perched on the corner of the roof, that took off as soon as my camera made a noise when it focused.  There are the tiny toads, the size of a pinkie nail hopping around under the hose behind the house, and the low hum of bees feasting in the Rose of Sharon flowers. 

And there is evidence of new leaves sprouting from buttonbush and Hydrangea stems ravaged by grazing deer, proof that life goes on.  These shrubs are busy repairing themselves, giving themselves another chance to shine this year.  Just like the Caladium and Colocasia leaves emerging from desiccated, dead-looking rhizomes that never got to properly grow last summer, life finds a way, when given a chance.

We are very grateful for the rain.  It will fuel some beautiful growth in the garden as we head into July, now that things are heating up for the summer ahead.

With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who hosts Six on Saturday each week.

You might enjoy my new series of posts, Plants I Love That Deer Ignore.

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