Blue alert

There's perfume burning in the air/Bits of beauty everywhere…Anjani Thomas

A brindled blue mystery of an Iris Germanica opened her first bud today on the heels of at least three weeks of purple splendor on all sides. This understated lady was purchased two seasons ago as Coyote Ugly, promising a lush and lovely peach and scarlet dramatic confection. I did get an offer of replacement from the seller when I showed them pictures of who I got, but with no Coyote Ugly available I settled for substitution in the fiery orange and yellow range to honor trickster coyote’s yellow gleaming eyes. The subs are yet to show their colours by flowering. Watch this space - buds are swelling there.

Meanwhile the anonymous green tinged lemon yellow Iris clump is in full bloom outback. Every year in spring I fall more in love with Iris germanica. Though their time of flowering is brief, they are such strong and sturdy beauties. Iris germanica don’t ask for much care or attention and thus have proven to be really low maintenance roommates of the floral kingdom. They are welcome to share this little patch of northern Chihauhauan desert with me any day.

Other low maintenance roommates currently blooming are various Echinocereous cactus. Bees absolutely adore these tough desert denizens who occupy rocky niches in the kerb appeal hellscape out front.

Coming and going, I can’t help marveling at the neon brilliant perfection of cactus flowers bursting with such vibrance from punishing heat and stony aridity. The hellscape gets absolutely no supplemental watering and is exposed to brutal reflected heat off the tarred road.

A neighbour a few streets away recently complained that one can’t have a beautiful garden here. I invited her in and showed her my cactus. I could have rested my case there, but I didn’t.

I took her to the black hulled barley, (Hordeum vulgare) which only grows more beautiful every day as it ripens to harvest. I can stand and stare at it for hours, forget time in this wonder of symmetry, graphic design, colour, swaying, responsive to every breath of wind. Why did it take me so long to discover barley? According to the National Geographic Genome project, I’m a descendant of the original farmers in the Fertile Crescent/Cradle of Civilization. Maybe it’s my imagination, but in the presence of this stand of barley today, I feel ancient genetic memory stirring, as if my body is remembering agrarian roots going back waaaaaaay more than just the few generations I know by name. Barley was one of the first domesticated cereal grains. Barley is my home. My heritage. My tribe. My clan. My ancestor.

But I digress: I took neighbour to see the bedroom window Pyracantha (Fire thorn ) which has responded to a few years of nurturing and shaping with this sudden, showy, snowy bee heaven effusion. Who gave it permission to be so flagrant, so ample?

Then I invited garden desolate neighbour to look closer at more subtle happenings like the sugar snap peas. (Pisum sativum) in this case I think they were Oregon Giants but stand open to correction. In January/February this year I sowed all the packets of pea seeds I had on hand from various past years of dreaming of sweet and crunchy cool season harvests. I didn’t know we were going to experience a March From Hell. Literally. Two weeks of the highest March temperatures ever since recording began. The hottest March month on record. Ever. Poor peas. I raised them into Hell and yet still they give me the delight of this exquisite delicacy of flowering, followed by pods. I am grateful and abject too about the heat. The pods are edible but inclined to toughness, as we have to be to endure in this hot place, and not nearly as sweet as those I have savoured in my memory, raised in more salubrious climes and times.

And the flowering fava beans. Vicia fava

Who gave me this plateful of chubby loveliness today.

Which reduced to this bowlful of shelled potential scrumptiousness.

Mmmmmm. Still haven’t decided on what to make: but it will surely be some variation of one of my favorite Egyptian breakfast dishes: Ful Medames where I steam the beans then serve with olive oil, coriander, cumin, cilantro, garlic and a squeeze of lemon juice or a goat milk yoghurt dressing. I certainly dine well, with much gratitude and thanks to my vegetable roommates in this Garden of Earthly Delights. What do you mean you don’t eat your roommates?

Cilantro is everywhere in abundance, leafy in places, bolting to blooming marvelous in others, promising a good harvest of coriander for kitchen alchemical projects. I am a bit miserly with Garden of Earthly Delight sourced herbs and spices, but might be persuaded offer some locally grown coriander at farmers market. I sell out of cilantro leafy bunches every week.

Curly kale (Red Russian I think) is responding with a lushness right now too, though it hasn’t been cold enough to make it really sweet. It is nevertheless a strong green goddess, currently attracting clouds of white cabbage moths to lay eggs….uh oh. Did you hear that, birds? I see caterpillars in our future here in the Garden of Earthly Delights. Muster your forces now!

Partly this great green garden flourishing is because, for the first time in a million years, we had rain. At last! Two mornings ago, three tenths of an inch of glorious rain fell, gently, softly. I am so unused to rain that I woke in a fright, thinking the scrabbling noise to be someone trying to get in my bedroom windows which were open with only insect screens across the yawning vulnerability. With relief, joy and wonder I orientated my ears to hear the noise of rain running down rain chains, splashing into water catchment barrels. It took quite a few rounds of deliberate yoga breaths to calm my racing pulse.

It’s been a long time since I heard that sound. Way too long. Goddess forbid that one of these days the rarity of a rainstorm in this dry desert provokes a heart attack!

Neighbour who despaired of pretty garden possibilities in the Northern Chihauhauan desert was speechless after the tour.

I only cheated a little bit. I didn’t show her my municipal water bill and I didn’t invite her along on my horse manure gathering missions, or my rock collecting rambles. Shhh. Those are secrets shared only with Janis truck and anyone who cares to follow this diary.

Recommended listening:

Blue Alert . The title track and then even the whole album by Anjani Thomas. Wherever you get your music.

Recommended Reading:

The Feather Wars and the Great Crusade to Save America’s Birds. James H. McCommons. 2026.

Because birds are a barometer and birds have always been my thing. Little bits of beauty everywhere. Always.

Yes I know it’s history and it’s America. Two things which have a reputation for being dull and/or uuuuuh….problematic.

But read this new book for the birds, and the stories of the motley crew of characters who organized various bird brained resistances to spectres of consumption and extinction.

No spoilers so I’m not saying whether they were successful or not. Read the book to find out. You won’t regret it.