Fill-in Motif

Day 37: As a general rule, when I stitch the layers of a quilt together, I do so 1/8" inside each seam line rather than working an overall design like clamshells or waves. There have been exceptions to that, of course, and occasionally I add embellishments to open areas of solid-colour fabric (a daisy in the center of a circle, for example). In this way, the pieced pattern is reflected on the back, and is more obvious by virtue of not being overwhelmed by prints. Quilting came about as a way to prevent batting from clumping or bunching up, and now many batts are rated by the maximum number of inches between lines of stitching which the quilter must not exceed. Where the chrysanthemum/Dresden plate blocks join in "Autumn Oranges," I had large open spaces of brown which really needed tacking down. As I worked on the plates, my mind was running over possibilities. Circles? Small inside large? Yeah, that would do, especially since I already had ready-made templates. But I wasn't satisfied with the idea. Yesterday, it hit me: add scallops around the outer edge to make a big daisy! A quick sit-down with the templates, a sheet of plastic and a pair of scissors to cut it with, and ten minutes later, I had a 12-petal "sunflower" I could outline in chalk.

Sunshine Sunflower

Day 313: Every year, my birdies grow a few of their own sunflowers. I never know exactly what to expect. Sometimes they're tall, sometimes short, sometimes large-flowered, sometimes almost as small as daisies. This one is about two feet tall with a 5" flower, and already the goldfinches are checking to see if the seeds are big enough to eat. They like them when they're small and soft, easy to open and still green. I support the stems when I can, driving stakes into the ground and wrapping them loosely with velcro tape, doing my best to help my avian farmers with their homegrown crop. Sometimes a heavy Steller's Jay takes a fancy for a sunflower seed snack and latches onto the flower, tipping it face down toward the ground as the bird enjoys upside-down dining.

Sunflower Buzz

Day 313: Every year, I allow the birds to plant a few sunflowers for their personal use, but of course seeds are not the only crop which arises from their efforts. The bees and butterflies take gainful employment as pollinators, harvesting both pollen and nectar in season. In fact, I have been pleasantly surprised at the number of bee species attending to the work and although I can't identify them specifically, there are a number of different plump, tractable bumblebees labouring side-by-side with the smaller Apidae. The buzz of their industry is an enjoyable background noise in the garden, and sometimes when a fast-moving commuter passes near my ear, I mistake it for one of the competing hummingbirds until it alights in the center of a flower. Busy with their work, they have no time for the human in the garden. There's much to do before the rains and wind return.

As Sown, So Reaped

Day 321 (see below for fire update): They think they're being naughty, those Steller's Jays, and won't let me catch a photo of them gobbling down sunflower seeds as fast as they can peck them free of the heads. However, I did not plant these. They did, and therefore I acknowledge that the harvest is theirs to reap.

Yesterday's rain knocked the 7-foot Cosmos jungle over, but with prudent forethought, I had staked the sunflowers. I was a little surprised they didn't topple, because the weight of a head this size is pretty substantial even with half of the seeds missing, but other than leaning a bit, the wrist-size stalk held the plants erect. Most of the plants are smaller and have multiple heads, but even so, they hold a decent supply of seeds and are sturdy enough to support a pair of Jays bent on having a hearty lunch simultaneously.

With some regrets, I pulled and discarded the Cosmos in order to clear my walkway. If the sunflowers had gone over, I'd have cut the heads and laid them out on the crow board. Maybe the Jays would have let me catch them in action if I'd spread the feast in one of their familiar haunts. Still, we all know that "forbidden" foods are the tastiest, and so far, I've been successful in keeping them off the grapes.

Sunflower Explosion

Day 286: There has been another Bambi-attack in my garden. Spike got one of the horse chestnut trees. I can only blame myself. I didn't surround all of them with wire, although I did take measures to protect the ones in the front yard. The savaged one may pull through; it had established a good root system, but as of this writing, there's not a leaf on it.

First to go were the raspberries, and I understand that Spike is looking for better forage than the brittle dry grass and withering leaves on non-cultivated plants. I can't blame him. The dry weather is hard on wildlife. That said, if I'd had clear foresight, I would have hung a string of cat-food cans as a "deer-scarer" as I've done in the past. All things considered, I'm surprised my nibbling nemesis ignored the sunflowers. This one now towers a foot above my head and is just beginning to open. With any luck, several more will mature to provide natural snacks for the birds. After all, they planted them. They should reap the harvest!

Sunflower Stitchery

Day 365: My birds are grand little gardeners. They've planted millet and milo throughout the flower beds, and I never know where sunflowers may pop up. Burdened by the recent rain, this one was nodding close to the ground, so I supported it with chrysanthemums for the photo which, as you can see, has been processed to give it the look of a piece of framed needlework. Now I find myself wishing I still had the old PC Stitch program on this machine so I could turn it into counted cross-stitch!

My regular readers will notice that the lead-in says that this is Day 365 of 365 Caws' Year Four, and I find myself having to make an admission of fault. 365 Caws began on October 14, 2010, and at the end of the second year (if memory serves), the count was off by ten days. I glossed over it at the time, figuring that nobody was really keeping track, but it bothered me. Somehow, though, I've managed to lose another four days. Therefore, from now through October 13, I will be posting "make-up" entries so I can start with a fresh slate on the 14th.

Today, This Is A Rainflower

Day 355: The first storm of the season has not come in with quite the flourish the forecast warned us to expect, and although it's blown the tomato screens flat a couple of times, this sunflower...rainflower...remains undaunted. It's a "volunteer," a seed thrown into the garden by a Jay or a Towhee, the careless eaters of my avian dinner guests, and possibly close enough to the house to escape Bambi's predations. Sunflowers never survive to maturity here, not with deer and elk bold enough to walk right up to my doorstep. I gave up trying to grow them years ago, but the birds have been discouraged from their horticulture not a whit. They plant with no expectations of a harvest, in contrast to my agrarian motives, leaving me to wonder if there isn't more wisdom in those little brains than in my own.

Camouflage

 
Day 290: If this guy had ordered a custom paint job from the military, they couldn't have done a better job of camouflage! When I stopped to photograph the sunflowers at the Mountain Community Garden in Eatonville, I didn't notice the bees until I zoomed in and tightened the focus. Then I realized they were hard at work on several flowers, some rather a bit too close at hand for someone who's highly allergic to their stings.

The Mountain Community Garden leases raised beds for vegetables and provides a "commons" for growing taller plants. The Garden also hosts an area dedicated to cultivation of produce specifically destined for the Eatonville Food Bank. Last year, the Garden donated over 200 pounds of organically-grown vegetables, benefiting people who might otherwise not have been able to afford a healthful diet.