Nipping at the Heels of the Dog Days?

It was an auspicious day in the Darwinian Garden.

We in rural Kansas have been weathering triple-digit temperatures for nearly two weeks, and I myself have been hunkered down in the air conditioning for most of that period. OK - I ventured out, only occasionally, to move the sprinkler from banana tree to banana tree. But that's it! Every other green thing was on its own.

Until today: overcast and somewhere between 68º-75º all day long. And no wind.

Omigoodness me.

I have been walking outside today in awe, as if I were just getting out after 4 months of snow and ice to see the first green blades rising. I have looked at the hostas (brown), the fruit trees (fruit: sort of ok), the bamboo (hmmm...might come round...), and the lantana down the front walk.

The ONLY thing thriving in this desert month:

(That's me, telling Biserka that she needs her face shaved. Poor girl.)

Many months ago, if you recall, I planted: a row of gladiolas, a row of zinnias, three rows of assorted sunflowers, a row of New England Pie Pumpkins, a row of ornamental gourds, and a swath of birdseed. What did my Darwinian cutting garden look like today?

The gladiolas won the springtime race, and like the hare, quickly fell to the wayside. The zinnias are still doing their thing, but with the recent solar blast on them, their colors aren't quite as magnificent as they might be. They're almost bleached out.

Sunflowers: Sunburned and black and done.

After looking at those rows, I tramped and I tramped through thigh-high weeds, looking for any sign of my New England Pie Pumpkins. Huh. Nothing to see there. I moved on to where I had planted the row of ornamental gourds: just one piddly thing that really doesn't resemble any ornament I want to look at. I stared at the birdseed garden, over Manley Peacock's burial site. Lots and lots of weeds, yes indeed, but also some tall tall millet and sunburned, dried-out sunflowers. I moved through the birdseed garden (it was kind of icky, walking through all the tall weeds), over to the grapevines. The concord grapes were purple and oh, so sweet, three weeks ago. Now the vines are crispy brown. There are still grapes, but these are clear and color-less and sun-bleached. But they still have that sweet concord taste. I ate quite a few off the vine while I stood there looking around.

All of a sudden, my eyes landed on something bright orange - in the birdseed garden!

WOWEE!!

I have New England Pie Pumpkins!!! In the birdseed garden!

And creeping up and down alongside my concord grapes!!

Who knew gardening could be so exciting?!!

I have no idea how those silly pumpkins made their way over the gourds and across the weeds and what-have-you, but it looks like we Armstrongs are good in the Autumnal Pie Department.

Three other rural Kansas notes for the day:

Mongrel ducks that have no clue
that grasshopper duty is in their job description:

Euripides the Cat knows his job description
(attack anything that moves), and takes it seriously:

And lastly,
the pretty volunteer petunia,
peeking out of the weeds now drowning it,
in what WAS the New England Pumpkin Pie Patch: