Well into July now, the weather is hot and steamy and the neighborhood is a-pop with the next phase of color and bloom. With just the tiniest bit of guilt, I note the tidily tended perennial beds of the house next door; weed-free and thoroughly mulched. I have allowed the plant life to run rampant in this yard – it has been difficult to distinguish what is a weed and what is not at this point. The growth on and around The Urban Porch hovers in limbo phase, no longer well kept, but not yet gone to hell. There is a shabby wildness I am rather enjoying. No doubt, as the month wears on it will all tip over into a disheveled mess, but for now the random bursts of color are somewhat delightful.

Intermittent storms have provided blustery winds and a few buckets worth of rain, which have kept the gardens going during the heat.

Tiny, crimson explosions of Bee Balm dot the yard, emitting minty scents when brushing by.

“The Oranges” of Summer have arrived. Sneezeweed hugs the foundation.

Daylilies rise up amidst the tangle of unidentified growth.

A few Nasturtium are spreading out and opening in the patch where the poppies had previously been.

Despite what I had thought was my heavy-handed removal of the Trumpet Vine this past spring, it has persisted. How unfortunate that this distinctive clarion of Koi-colored blooms is so invasive.

Mere steps away in a neighbor’s front yard, a variety of vibrant orange Coneflower draws the eye. I have the mauve ones – perhaps these are a possibility for next year….

Potted plants on The Urban Porch reflect The Oranges of Summer too. An occasional Hibiscus flower will bloom for a day.

Cheery Marigolds and Sungold cherry tomatoes share space.

The Black-eyed Susan Vine sends tendrils out to the railing.

Rudi, framed in white blossoms, surveys the scene beyond the porch.

These light-hearted petunias were lush and happy a few weeks ago, but the heat of west-facing afternoons is taking its toll on them now.

Some flowers blew quickly by – the Hollyhocks that return each year by the kitchen haven’t merited comment and are pretty much done now. The palest of yellow, they lack contrast, tending to get lost against the house of a similar shade.

The leaves have developed Hollyhock Leaf Rust Disease, which should probably be dealt with. Although it’s not a good thing, the affected leaves look interestingly cool in their own damaged way. I’m actually enjoying the patterns of the fungal infestation on them more than the blooms…..

The huge Rose of Sharon that lends privacy on The Urban Porch has once again not disappointed, creating a deep pink, bumble and honeybee-filled screen.

Time appears to be moving at a serious speed. It seems within mere days, the Robins went from eggs to hatchlings, quickly fledged, and were gone.

Sweetly scented privet flowers came and went. The aroma of privet brought distant recall of decades past, lost childhood, hot breezes and dreamy evenings.

The Milkweed has flowered and turned to pods.

Out and about, hot temps and sporadic, soaking rainstorms have helped the Chanterelles to emerge.

And provided a significant blueberry season…..

After hanging about all day, every day, the crows have gone radio silent this week. Maybe it is just a temporary situation. Perhaps they are off at a crow-fest somewhere. I look forward to their return.

The squirrels are squirreling away their stashes, and it’s only mid-July!

School clothes are already being advertised in the stores before we’ve barely had a chance to get into bathing suits (well, OK, you won’t be seeing me in a bathing suit anytime soon, but I impress upon what appears to be the rapid urgency of the seasons).

Massive, billowy cloud formations typical of August skies have been frequent during this July. It seems everything is ahead of schedule.

Summer. Couples stroll by in the cooler hours of evening, families navigate the uneven bluestone sidewalks while pushing strollers. People walking dogs, listening to music or talking on their phones – often simultaneously. Children fly down the street on their razor scooters, a caravan of friends breeze by on their bicycles. Neighbors weeding their gardens, the distant drone of a lawnmower. Cardinals call back and forth from the trees. Everyone out on their porches, sipping lemonade, having a smoke, waving hello, sharing news, gathering to chat.

While observing the turn of the seasons and the flow of humanity past my front steps, I cannot help but reflect on a framed poem my mother had placed inside our front door when I was growing up – a stanza from “The House by the Side of the Road” by Sam Walter Foss (1858-1911), a New England poet and librarian. After learning to read, I memorized it and enjoyed reciting it often, all the way down to loudly concluding “By Sam Walter Foss!” at the end, with tremendous elementary-school enthusiasm. Something to aspire to, it is now hanging by my front door – I can’t help but think it lends relevance to The Urban Porch. In relation to “man”, this would encompass animals and nature as well.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner’s seat
Nor hurl the cynic’s ban-
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

– Sam Walter Foss

~*~