I have heard it said that native North American Indians find it strange that the white man has to look at his clock or wristwatch to know whether he is hungry or not!

The faithful timepiece in the garden has proven very helpful whenever we’re working or relaxing outdoors.

Have you ever heard of . . . or seen . . . a wannabe clock?

We have one growing just outside the back gate!  Let me describe it for you:

–       It’s about 40 feet tall.  We can’t bring it indoors.

–       The main part of the clock is at least 12 inches across.

–       It has a deeply furrowed grey-black finish.

–       The pendulum is composed of 15–23 green pieces, all paper-thin.

–       Whenever there is the slightest breeze, the pendulum rhythmically swings back and forth.

–       It is absolutely silent – no tick tock.

–       Although the pendulum is rather unpredictable, this particular clock has no face.  It just enjoys keeping time!

To help you see it better, I put a dab of white-out on the bottom points of the pendulum.  Can you see the pendulum  swung to the left?

Now it has swung to the right:  (See the white tips?)

Yes, our Wannabe Clock is a black walnut tree!!

Time is such a precious commodity.  Mornings find me in the studio, which often stretch into the afternoon, bringing more pink roses, their leaves and buds, to life on the canvas of Beside the Still Waters.

Did you know that in the future, a very powerful angel, with one foot on the land and one foot on the sea, will declare:

 “…that there should be time no longer.”  Revelation 10:6.

What then?

Every time I mention streptocarpcus, the blue flowers hanging on the wall by our front door, Lloyd hears the “strep” part, and often retorts:    “It sounds like some disease.”  We have all heard of strep throats, and how sore they are.

This elegant plant comes in a fantastic variety of colours, but somehow I have only found the heavenly blue ones.  I was delighted and surprised this week to see the hummingbird sipping from the slender throats of the dangling blossoms.  It seems that hummingbirds are attracted to flowers with nectar-filled throats . . . even if they are not the touted colour of red!

The white throat of one of our hostas is scented like lily of the valley.  (Its botanical name is Tetraploid sport of plantaginea.) It had been in our back yard for a few years, but refused to bloom.  I moved a piece of it to the sidewalk garden to fill in a vacant space caused by a pesky rabbit who had chomped off everything in sight.  The lily-like hosta approved of its sunnier location, and now has pushed up several stalks loaded with buds which elongate by the day.  Can you tell me Who fills their throats with this wondrous scent?

Bumblebees disappear from sight as they fly into the brown-striped throats of yellow allamanda blossoms, and then wriggle their way back out, and zoom away.

It’s September, and it’s time to care for our own throats.  I’m going to practise the nightly ritual of gargling with warm salt water before retiring for bed.  My friend claims it will prevent getting a sore throat, the precursor to the common cold.

Today I’m imagining the fragrance of roses . . . as I begin painting luscious pink blooms onto a mass of shrub roses bordering a quiet river in PEI.  The painting will be titled, “Beside the still waters.”  Six sheep are quietly grazing on the far bank.