The sun has reached its midday peak, now shining unfiltered through the canopy of Japanese maples that surround the circular writing patio (below). While I typically move to a more shaded space, potted succulents and tropicals on the patio benefit from this brief moment of sunlight. Soon, the sun’s angle will change, and the patio will be shaded until evening when the slope of the garden allows the sun to shine under the canopy in the few minutes before it sets behind foothills of the Blue Ridge just to the west.

Rainfall in recent days provides a temporary reprieve from our drought, but temperatures nearing a hundred degrees have quickly dried the ground. I’m encouraged that the possibility for storms is forecast. Perhaps repeated rainfall over the coming days will allay concerns so that I might return to a regular gardening routine. At the least, I hope that rain totals compensate for the daily evaporation from the garden’s five ponds.

Strolls through the garden have continued, though I suspect the timing has shortened in the afternoon heat. I continue to pluck weeds as I walk the paths, marveling as I go at the abundant pollinators. The buzz of huge numbers of bees is evident, even with my diminished hearing, as I pass flopping stems of mountain mint (Pycnanthemum muticum, above) in the lower rear garden. As flowers lean over the stone path, I am cautious in passing close by frantically feeding bees and wasps that rarely take notice except to detour around me to the next available flower.

As flowers of bottlebrush buckeyes (Aesculus parniflora, above) reach their peak, Joe Pye weeds (Eutrochium purpureum, below) are beginning to bloom with an immediate increase in the quantities of butterflies. The garden’s lone butterfly bush (Buddleja) is a lesser, third option as swallowtails cross the garden.

Yes, I whine about the drought and the extreme heat, but while thoughts of cooler temperatures are enticing for a moment, there is no doubt that I prefer this hundred degree afternoon with buzzing pollinators and brilliant blooms to the dormancy of the winter garden. Today, if I’m overheated, I can wander back to the fully reclined Adirondack chair on the  patio or even return to the coolness of the sunroom that overlooks the garden. Nearing summer’s midpoint, I’m content to sit back, enjoying the returning shade and a slight breeze as a swallowtail circles the patio.