Hydrangea Sex

 

 The bee hive is taller than it used to be....a couple new levels on it since the nectar flow really kicked in hard. Now its almost over and all that's really left is the hot and heavy going on in our tree hydrangeas. Last year I talked here about how incredibly stunning these big, fluffy glamor queens are this time of year.

 

I noticed that the flowers faded faster this year and that our bigger, healthier hive was very busy swarming in and out and jetting to the fluffy blossom masses. Turns out there's a connection. The flowers fade and "turn" once they've been all pollinated. Its very possible that with our more mature population this summer the bees polished off the nectar flow and pollen distribution faster than last year.

 Kind of fun to think about our little hive making a noticeable difference in the local pollination.

I also noticed this year for the first time the anatomy of the hydrangeas. The "blooms" we notice and ply with ph to alter and sell at a fortune to fill out bridal bouquets everywhere aren't blooms at all. They're just bracts...fakey flowers with no real sexy flower body parts. They're all for show...just billboards to attract the insects. You have to look deeper to see the real goods beyond the advertising.

 

See those little star shaped flowers starting their lives as white pearls that are hiding in the inner core of the cluster? That's where its really at. Cool eh? Botany rocks my socks.

 

 

Fruit Of Our Labors

This is the first official produce of our new mini-orchard we planted last year. We have a bunch of new baby trees we planted on our property last spring: two plum trees, a peach tree, a cherry, a pear and a nectarine to keep our ancient apple tree company. Last year they just grew, and this year that's still where most of the energy went (they are starting to look like real trees now!) but one of our plums pulled out all the stops and made a single golden fruit.

It was condensed deliciousness. All our fruit farming hopes and gardening efforts congealed in one glowing orb. A and I split it one very early morning for breakfast while the dew was still on the grass, dripping juices on our hands, alternating bites. Sometimes we share an achingly happy vision of life together.

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Hawk's Nest

We have a gigantic white pine towering over our house. It is about two or three stories taller the top of our big three story colonial, a giant of a tree. I love the feeling of it's sturdy hulk staking the property lines to the top of our hill. The neighbors say that there were once several big pines like that scattered on our lot. Now the only one left is that one lone giant, rooted just over the hedge on the nuns property (yes, our next door neighbors are a convent full of extremely warm sisters).

Our drive in October

Even though it is a magnificent tree it is perilously close to our house which means both that in the fall our drive is showered with a stunning carpet of golden needles in the fall and that I sit shuddering in my bed every high wind rainstorm that we get, listening to the old tree creaking and moaning right over our heads wondering if someday it will fall crashing into our roof and saw off our master bedroom or go galumphing through to the sunroom below.

Image by Tilton Lane via Flickr

When the tree guys starting coming by giving estimates to chop down the diseased hemlocks and the large straggling chokecherry we sure thought wistfully about making a call on our neighbors to discuss dismantling their giant in the bargain. That is, until we realized that the pair of red-tailed hawks we've seen wheeling over the house had mated and nested, right in the top of the great tree. I can't blame them. I'd nest there too if I was in the neighborhood. The have clearly picked carefully the biggest, most secure spot in the area and although I'm sure it is a bit chilly in a stiff wind (the tree is at the tippy top of the hill we live on top of) it has to have a regal view and feel like the best place around to bring up your young. We nested next door, clearly we thought it was a good spot too.

The king pine

The whole idea of taking the tree out will have to wait for a later date but more importantly, in the meantime we have the privilege of having a family of hawks raised up right next to us. I am pleased that I decided to go for bees instead of backyard chickens and thinking fondly of the effect on local bunny rabbits and voles that might be so unlucky as to discover our vegetable garden.

One of our hawk parents leaving the nest

 You can already hear loud cheeping when you walk down the driveway and see one of the parents swoop out of the tree, heading for the heat vents high over our hill. I haven't been able to locate the nest so far, somewhere in the heart of the tree, far from prying eyes but I keep looking, figuring one of these days I'll figure out where to look when I see the parents looping in and out. Now I need to get out, on the double, and get a pair of binoculars.

Related articles

• Hawk Cam | Live From the Nest (cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com)
• High-Rise Hawk in a Tangle (cityroom.blogs.nytimes.com)