I was standing on the garden path, studying the work I accomplished this past week and taking photos for this SoS post when I heard the quick staccato pounding of tiny feet and the rustling of an animal running through the garden. As I turned towards the sound, scanning for a clue, I sighted a squirrel running tight spirals up the trunk of an oak. Its companion followed, and before I could blink, they both leapt from the tree and came racing down the path towards me. Rivals? Lovers? Playmates? Who can tell with squirrels? They were running as fast as their feet allowed, lost in concentration on their chase. I was standing still, watching, when one squirrel ran directly across my boot with the other literally on its tail. At the end of the path they parted, one turning to find shelter in the nearby wax myrtle shrubs and the other heading to the beech tree.

The squirrels play tag and chase one another, pausing only to dig a small hole in search of a bite or to run out on the limbs of trees like impossibly gravity neutral acrobats, jumping and swooping through the canopy. Rabbits slowly chew and nibble at the edges of the lawn like miniature, adorable cows. And this week we found a baby snake sunning itself on our deck. That one was a surprise as we chatted and sipped coffee.

I look at these photos and realize how shaggy the garden looks this week. It is at that awkward stage while we wait for the daffodil leaves to yellow so we can remove them, and the next flush of interesting plants hasn’t quite gotten here yet. It is like changing the set between acts of a play.

Normally, I would be photographing Siberian Iris this week, but something seems to have happened to my favorite clump. They have bloomed here for more than 10 years with no issue. There were a few sparse leaves last week, and this week, nothing…? As I was planting a pot of Salvia near the spot on Tuesday I found a gaping hole, and near it a tag for a Siberian Iris clump that I planted last spring. I can only wonder what may have happened to my favorite Iris, usually a ‘cast iron’ plant that comes back reliably year to year with little effort.

But the several withered holly shrubs I’ve found this month may offer a clue. Each was neatly whittled away right at or slightly below ground level. I reach out to touch the shrub, standing but discolored, and it simply falls over. That would be the work of voles. For all of my smugness at cutting down on voles in the yard by planting poisonous rooted daffodils and hellebores, it seems that the voles still find their way around. I can only wonder whether they ate the roots off of my Siberian Iris clump.

I’ve read a bit lately about how gardeners, with our love of collecting plants, are creating incredibly bio-diverse ecosystems far richer than our surroundings. Of course we’re nurturing lots of different plant species in a small space, but the plants attract and support an ever-growing cast of animal species. Dr. Doug Tallamy started his ‘Homegrown National Park‘ movement in recognition that even though our individual yards are small, we are still creating little havens for wildlife and biodiversity around our homes. Whether a quarter acre or a 5 acre plot, our efforts make a difference to the larger ecosystem. He shares these ideas in his 2009 book, Bringing Nature Home.

So that idea remains strongly front of mind as I ‘allow’ biodiversity to trump tidiness. Everything growing is either coming or going and is serving a purpose and feeding something. This week I’ve been watching for what is ‘coming.’ I found the Zantedeschia I planted last spring emerging in one bed, but not yet in others planted several years ago in the upper garden. One of the ‘Caladium’ bulbs I planted with the Canna lily given to me by Tony Tomeo turns out to be a Zantedeschia. I’ll need to move it elsewhere before it gets any bigger. I’m still watching for Salvias, certain ferns, and other perennials to return and bud.

I noticed a volunteer fern, that turned up last year in the sheltered area below a fig tree, is a crested variety of Japanese painted fern. It wasn’t this fancy in its juvenile form last year. The seedlings, or sporelings, always surprise and delight with their color and form. I’ve been admiring and photographing them this week as I pull stilt-grass, and other unwanted plants, from around them. I was very happy to find a few patches of perennial Begonia coming up around some of the ferns I transplanted to one of the fern gardens last summer.

And I found time this week to plant one of the two trays of baby Christmas ferns that finally arrived last Thursday, and nearly all of the ferns remaining from earlier trips to the nursery. I used these mainly in an area where we are using ferns to control erosion on a steep slope.

I took a short break to hunt for any new bamboo shoots coming up in the yard, and spotted some in a bed of Hellebores. I waded in and grabbed the largest one, about 3′ tall, and began rocking it back and forth. I lost my footing when it gave way and stumbled forwards, coming eye to eye with a cicada watching the whole production from a hellebore leaf. The cicada went unharmed, and so did I. The bamboo…not so lucky.

Our stand of ginger lilies is coming up, and that means it is time to plant out the potted ginger lilies and other rhizomes that Tony sent me from California last winter. I planted some more of the Cannas in a bed earlier this month, and have been waiting for more perennials to come up in the upper garden so I can plant his gifted Hedychiums in a free, unoccupied spot. That is ‘on my list’ for early next week.

Maybe one of the most surprising finds was a voodoo lily in bloom. I smelled it before I saw it, while bent over pruning out stems of spent Hellebore flowers. ‘What is that awful smell?‘ I wondered. ‘Has something died?’ And then I spotted it in its elegant, purple glory. These flowers want to smell like rotten meat to attract flies to pollinate them. Their leaves will be spectacular when they appear next month, so a few days of the flowers may be worth it.

We have wonderful rain this Saturday morning, which is a blessing for gardeners and a disappointment for those with plans for outdoor festivals this weekend. It is another in a series of good rainstorms this month and means the ground is soft for planting, and cloudy damp days have eased the transition for plants coming out to the garden. The cool weather makes it nice to work outside. I’m sure it makes it nice for the turtles and frogs as well, and I will hope to spot a few when I head back out to the garden next week to finish planting the ferns.

With appreciation to Jim Stephens of Garden Ruminations, who

hosts Six on Saturday each week.