​While taking pictures of flowers this summer, I have encountered a number of tiny flying and crawling critters.  Some were cute.  Some were creepy.  All were interesting.  There were some I had never seen before in my life and hadn’t a clue what they were. To find out, I visited iNaturalist for the first time. I heard about it during a raptor demonstration from an educator at VINS (Vermont Institute of Natural Science) in Quechee. She encouraged everyone to become Citizen Scientists and contribute data at iNaturalist.org

According to their website, iNaturalist is an online social network of people sharing biodiversity information to help each other learn about nature.  I like the idea of not only learning, but participating. 
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I uploaded some pictures and included when and where I saw the creature.  Within a day, I received a response with an identification and information such as a map of the world and every other sighting of that particular insect.  If you take a picture of an animal, bird, bug, or plant and want to know what it is, I recommend you give iNaturalist a try.  The better the photo, the more apt they are to identify it.  To my embarrassment, I learned that the spider above is actually backwards and hard to id but some kind of orb weaver.  I liked him too much not to include him.  The next one is a crab spider shortly after s/he caught a tasty meal.

Eastern Forest Sedgesitter on an Apple Blossom

Geron Bee Fly on a Black-eyed Susan

Dragonfly on Water Aven

Tachinida Fly on Astilbe

Scudder Bush Katydid on Pink Peony 

Robber Fly 

In small and large towns all across our country, flowers decorate public property such as post offices, fire stations, and libraries.  When you pass by these places, even if you don’t consciously notice the flowers, you will probably sense that the people who live there care about their town. Our little town of Grantham is one of those well-cared-for towns.

For this blog, I decided to do a little digging into the history of garden clubs.  Horticultural societies, some dating back to colonial times, restricted women’s membership. In response, women formed their own clubs. The first women's garden club in America was the Ladies Garden Club of Athens, Georgia, founded in 1891.  According to information from the Women’s History Museum “While many garden clubs started with the goal of exchanging information and cuttings, they soon adopted larger missions, which indelibly shaped the American landscape.” The Grantham Garden Club was founded over twenty years ago and has been working ever since to enrich the lives of its members and the community.  With a population of fewer than 4,000 people, Grantham boasts an active garden club of 100+ people. 

The club is responsible for planting and maintaining container gardens in six sites in downtown Grantham. The photographs shown here were taken at the library and the town hall. Volunteers sign up for one week of maintenance and are responsible for watering, fertilizing, and deadheading the flowers.  Each Sunday, the volunteer hands off the watering kit to the next volunteer. The volunteers provide care from late May through September every year. Amelia Lantz is this year's coordinator who organizes the more than 30 volunteers like a well-oiled machine. 
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As I hope is evident, I am very proud of the Grantham Garden Club.  I think this is a fitting quote from anthropologist Margaret Mead: “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful committed citizens can change the world.  Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”   

​Years ago on a walk around a suburban Annapolis, Maryland, neighborhood, I came upon one of those Little Free Libraries that dot the country, including at least three in Grantham.  In that sweet library, I found Hailstones and Halibut Bones, Adventures in Poetry and Color by Mary O’Neill.  By the time I read the first few poems, I had fallen in love with the book.  It became my go-to book for presents for special people in my life.  My sister Sandy would turn off the lights in her grandchildren’s bedroom just before Nico and Elsa went to sleep.  She would read one poem a night by flashlight.  Finally Nico asked “Nana, can you please read all the colors.”  I plan to share a lot of the poems on this blog and include pictures of flowers included in the poems.  If you can’t wait though, I recommend you buy a copy.  The book was published in 1961 and is still popular today. 
 
Unlike all the other poems in the book, this poem doesn’t name any flowers so the flowers I’ve chosen to accompany this blog are an unusual sort of black one and and one pretty white one. 

A common occurrence when I visited gardens in early May was being told “Wait until you see the peonies.”  In my floral ignorance, I couldn’t even picture a peony.  What I saw before they blossomed were fairly tall plants with lots of round buds usually sporting at least an ant or two. I took a few pictures to see a before and after and always photoshopped out those pesky ants.*  Let me say I wasn’t particularly impressed.

When I first saw peonies blossoming in GGC VP Janie Clark’s garden, I actually gasped. No photograph can do justice to the glory of a peony at its peak. Soon I saw peonies in many of the Garden Club members’ gardens I visited.  Each has its own particular character, color, and beauty. 

​To add to their perfection, their aroma is heavenly.  

A wonderful peony story comes from Ruth Ann Eastman and begins a long time ago.  In the late 1890’s Albertine and Andreas Bjorn immigrated from Denmark to America and settled in Barre, Vermont.  Andreas bought and planted peonies as a gift to Albertine to celebrate the birth of their daughter in 1910.  This wasn’t a single plant but a twenty foot row of them. The Barre family homestead was passed down to Ruth Ann’s late husband Andy’s parents and later to Andy and Ruth Ann in 1999. The inheritance included the house, the barn, and the peonies. When Andy and Ruth Ann moved to Grantham in 2000, they transplanted the peonies to their garden.  It was quite a chore digging up eleven clumps of peonies and untangling the roots but was well worth the effort for the twenty years and counting that the peonies have continued to bloom each June.  According to Ruth Ann “They seem to like it here in Grantham.”  Andreas must have purchased a hearty bunch of peonies which he and his descendants obviously took proper care of them for them to last over one hundred years. 
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If you’re inspired to purchase peonies, bear in mind that they may take a few years to blossom but then they will bloom for the rest of your life. 

*If you google peonies, you’ll learn that when ants feast on the nectar that the peony buds produce, they protect the buds from harmful insects. So I apologize to the helpful ants for deleting them from my pictures.    

​As some of you know, I have been photographing many Grantham Garden Club members’ gardens with the goal of selling a picture book of flowers to benefit the club.  Since I began in April, I have discovered a whole new world through my macro lens.  While sharing their gardens, many members have also shared their personal stories.  I have been particularly moved by stories about their grandchildren and am sharing three today. 
Liz Knox, who charmed us last Fall with a presentation to the Garden Club has a particularly sweet ‘Grandmother’ story.  Liz normally spends her summers in a cottage in Wales on the border between Pembrokeshire and Carmarthenshire which sounds to me like a charming home for Hobbits.  Sadly Liz hasn't been able to return to Wales and her grandchildren yet this summer because of the Pandemic.  

Years ago, Liz found an old bird nest, put it in her garden and asked granddaughters Amelie and Isabel to decorate the nest and maybe the “Magic Bird” will come.  Since then the girls have perfected the art of “Magic Bird” nest building.  Younger granddaughters Ada and Rosa aren’t quite as talented as their older cousins, but they’ll get there. The “Magic Bird” always comes when no one is looking and lays chocolate eggs. 
A wise grandmother, Liz tells the little ones that they can’t pick every flower in the garden which, of course, is what they want to do.  She tells them they can pick the “Flower of the Day” each morning.  To quote Liz “They spend ages going round the garden and making the decision which flower will be theirs today!  It means they really look at everything, which is rather lovely…”

When I photographed flowers in Linda Douville’s beautiful garden, I saw lots of plaster of Paris decorations each showing a little handprint or footprint and a child’s name.  Linda told me there are eight of them in all—decorations and grandchildren.  Linda’s daughter Cara made them as a Christmas gift nine years ago—the first year they purchased their home in Eastman.  Her grandchildren ranged in age from 2-year-old Trevor to 13-year-old Luc at the time the casts were made. The rest of the gang is Jordan, Celia, Louis, Ruby, Lucy, and Brendan.  Linda told me the decorations have become cherished possessions. 

Although most of the stories I heard were happy ones, I did learn a heartbreaking story. I had the privilege of visiting Anke’s memorial garden dedicated to her granddaughter who died during delivery.  Anke told me that Ella Monroe is in her heart every day.  At first Anke put a baby-ish statue in the garden but replaced it with one of a little girl with a radiant look on her face.  This is how Anke pictures Ella now—free as a bird and standing tall and smiling. 

I have learned from these wonderful grandmothers that gardens not only bring joy but also bring comfort.