SPRING SPRANG, AND DEPARTED.

We are now well into July, and this is the first time I've visited the blog since my granddaughter's wedding. I'm glad I have those memories to fall back on, because the yard surely looks different now!

The heat has taken its toll. My pansies are gone, fainted dead away. The snapdragons are all gone as well, as are almost all the dianthus. I'm glad I planted some petunias around and between the cool-weather lovers, since without them there would be almost no color out there. There are a few roses, the crape myrtles are starting to bloom, and the oakleaf hydrangea is fully loaded with reddish-brown blooms. An interesting plant, the oakleaf. The blooms start out snow white, just elongated clusters called pannicles, many reaching over a foot long. Once they're all open, they begin to turn pink. First they're a faint, shell pink, then they darken until they're a russet red. Finally, the red turns into a mahogany brown, and that's how they remain, into the winter. The bush itself is a thick, sturdy, handsome shrub in its own right.

My beloved irises are long since finished, but a few of them are remontants, and will bless me with another show in the fall. The plumeria is fully leafed out, but so far has no flowers. My friend Beverly has a couple, and both of hers are blooming. I think I'll have to go have a chat with mine. There are a few tired roses, borne on heat-wearied bushes. I need to deadhead those bushes, maybe just go on and prune them deeply, and I'll get another flush of blooms in a few weeks.

It's a constant battle to maintain the pond. The sun causes the algae to proliferate unmercifully. I have a UV light set up on one of the water lines, and it kills the algae that's released in the water, but more is growing and setting itself adrift from the matrix on the sides and bottom all the time. The light keeps it under control so the water isn't green, but the box filter catches all the dead algae and about every twenty-four hours, it has to be pulled up, dismantled and washed out. If this isn't done, the main pump can't run, the waterfall stops, and the fish don't get sufficient aeration. Eventually, the pump will burn out, so I'm careful to clean the filter when it's needed.

The sun. Ah, yes, the ever-present, unrelenting, brutal Texas sun. I finally bought a nine-foot-wide beach umbrella, bright blue, and it helps to shade the pond, thereby reducing some of the sun exposure and slowing the algae growth to a small degree. It's a handsome umbrella, quite reasonable at under $100, tilts, and cranks to furl or unfurl it. It has an airvent in the top, with a circle of loose fabric covering the opening. I named it Fatima, because when it's collapsed down, it looks for all the world like a Muslim woman in a burqa.

My dear friend Eloise bought me an early birthday present. It's a bronze fish, poised on his belly, with his head and tail arched into the air. With the aid of a pump in the pond and a line connected to a point beneath him, he spits a jet of water back into the pond, thereby providing additional aeration. He's adorable, and useful as well.

As I said, the yard is looking pretty tired. That goes for the local wildlife too, especially the birds. I've never seen such tacky-looking birds, as the specimens who are haunting my yard these days. Skinny, molting, sad-eyed critters, of a variety that under the best of conditions would not necessarily be called "pretty", and right now, "tacky-looking" is a compliment. Absent tail feathers in most cases, and when they do have one or two, they're bent or broken. The poor things are hot, and they just stride around in the yard, beaks open, tongues protruding, looking frantic.

There are numerous water sources out there, including a very nice birdbath which I wash out daily and refill, and which is filled again at night when the sprinklers run. There's a large flat boulder with a natural depression, and I keep that washed out and filled as well. Then there's the little fountain/waterfall at the pond, and it always draws a crowd. I keep seed out as well, because I know they're just too hot and tired to hunt for food, and there's plenty of water. I don't know what else I can do to help them, but they just look so pitiful. The cardinals, mockingbirds, bluejays, flickers, robins and sparrows all seem to be doing okay. The grackles are a little ragged, but it's those other birds - cowbirds or whatever they are - that seem to be faring the worst. I haven't seen any starlings in a couple of weeks - I wonder where they went? Wherever it is, I hope they stay.

The squirrels haven't been around as much lately, either. They come by early in the morning, eat their fill if there's fresh feed out, or snuffle through the grass if the table has not been set for them yet. They jump up on the big birdbath and get a drink, or sometimes give me a special show when they come to the little tiled birdbath beneath my window. It has a small boulder beside it, so they can perch on the boulder while they drink from the birdbath. This puts them only about five feet away from me, and they can see me, but they don't seem to mind. Occasionally one will jump onto the window ledge just a couple of feet from me, and will peer in at me, or scratch on the glass, as though to say, "Hey, lady! We need groceries out here!" I usually respond to the demand, and the squirrels will skitter up the tree when I open the back door, but I'm barely back in the house when they're in the middle of the offering I've left them, munching seeds and carrying peanuts away to be buried.

I have amazing things that sprout up in my garden, things I never planted, but they're there. I'm picking tomatoes now from a vine I never planted, there is a cornstalk in the rose island, and last year there were peanut vines everywhere, which produced a lot of peanuts, which were in turn harvested by the furry little peanut farmers. My pear tree is drooping with a heavy load of pears, but the squirrels will get most of them. I don't care, I hope they enjoy them.

The Bible says "To everything there is a season." This seems to be the season for being hot, sticky, weary and thirsty, but just think how good that first cool Texas Norther will feel!