fern fan...

There is a fern plant growing right outside the screened porch, where I can see it from my chair, here at the dining table. I have been watching it daily for several weeks: seeing the fiddle heads grow taller and slowly starting to unfurl. There are at least seven heads, some that look about two feet tall. The process of gaining height, and slowly opening, as the spirals get taller, and the individual fronds grow daily in increments, makes me think of those old Disney shows, that introduced us to the wonders of nature. Probably something you would see  now on the Discovery channel, with time lapse photography, as you see the rose almost instantaneously open up from a small tight bud, to a multi-petaled wide open bloom.

There is always room for more fern. I made a quick loop through the wallyworld garden center on Saturday afternoon, looking for a bright red geranium to share. And accidentally purchased a pack of fern starts I hope to get planted today. I think it is the same as the one I can see, nearly visibly unfurling through the window: an 'autumn fern' with tall arc-ing fronds, that have a bronze coloration to the young leaves, and underside of leaf as they mature.

There are a number of fronds from a transplant-project coming up in a bed across the north side of the house. A place that never gets any direct sun, but lots of light, usually damp and mossy. Along the edge of the house, where they were planted last year, after growing in Ocala. From a friend who was so determined to share his crop, he mailed the little starts to me.  Not sure what variety it is, but it is so neat to see the little green heads come up and slowly uncurl to make bright green fronds. Probably considered a 'native' as well as 'invasive' in their natural state, far enough south in a zone where they would not normally get freezing weather. Mine disappeared over the winter, but are slowly starting to peek out from their hibernation.  I say: let 'em grow!

Looking out the window, through the screening of the porch, to see the dappled sunlight reflecting off hundreds of new-born leaves on deciduous trees, in a hundred shades of green. That 'yellow rose of Texas', originally a start from my mom's yard, is now in full bloom. With dozens of small bright yellow flowers on long draping branches, lightly bobbing in the breeze. This is one that spreads too, but at such a slow rate as to not really be noticeable as creeping out of the original boundaries. It's very hardy - never gets any attention, and continues to provide brilliant color year after year when the bulb plants have faded.