Summer Garden 2026

The hot summer has finally arrived. Despite my efforts since early summer to be wary of the high heat and humidity, and diligently pruning lower leaves and dead foliage to keep things in order, I regretfully have already lost a few plants. The lemon geranium and the heliotrope. The lemon geranium and rose geranium cuttings I have been keeping indoors are also not doing well. I regret that I should have watered them a little less and kept them on the drier side.

Right now, I am particularly worried about the lamb's ear, lady's mantle, and perennial linaria. That charming, fluffy lamb's ear, which I have bitter memories of failing to keep through the summer in the past. It seemed to be a hardy plant originally, and until early spring, it was growing roots vigorously and increasing its foliage. The lady's mantle, which lovingly covers the soil and blooms with small yellow flowers. The perennial linaria, which bloomed with gentle pink flowers on its extended spikes and colored the garden for a long time. I was truly moved by the sight they showed from spring to early summer, thinking, 'I'm so glad I planted these.'

On the other hand, the Ficus houseplants are thriving. The Umbellata, Benghalensis, and Ruby have grown significantly this summer in the bright shade outdoors. I felt it might be too much to keep them accustomed to the outdoor environment, and more importantly, the room felt empty, so I quietly brought them back inside the other day.

And, having heard that the Queen of the Night cactus loves sunlight, I decided to take it out from the windowsill to the outdoors this summer. Perhaps this was successful, as it finally bloomed for the first time, which I had been eagerly awaiting.

...That said, the road to blooming was nerve-wracking. At first, there were about five buds, but when I looked one day at noon, most of them had fallen off. Miraculously, only one remained. As I watched over it with a prayer that it wouldn't fall, 'that day' finally arrived.

The bud, which had swollen so much that it looked like it might drop off from the base at any moment, quietly opened its petals that night. A large white flower floating in the dark night. Indeed, it is breathtakingly beautiful. I am captivated by the form of the petals, each one exquisitely layered.

They say it releases a scent to attract bats. I puffed out my chest with anticipation and brought my nose close, but at first, it only smelled somewhat green and medicinal. I was a little disappointed, but a few hours later, the garden was filled with a sweet, rich fragrance. My house is home to two bats. Perhaps they came to visit quietly while I was fast asleep.

A flower that lasts only one night. In just a few hours, it changes its appearance rapidly and heads toward the end of its short life. It is a plant I highly recommend because it propagates easily from cuttings. However, the branches and leaves grow annoyingly vigorously. By the way, in our house, it has become a tradition to hang it from the curtain rail when winter comes to get through the season.

The large double-flowered lilies also bloomed beautifully. I picked them and arranged them in the room before their heavy heads could droop, and the moment when the house is brightened by flowers from the garden like this is truly the reward of gardening.

Changing the subject, I am actually nurturing a plan to expand the garden further. However, standing in my way is the hard clay soil and the relentless growth of Japanese pampas grass and other grass-family weeds. In this scorching heat, I am at a loss while holding my burning head. As a tentative attempt, I planted two plants known for their toughness—tall verbena and bog sage—and they seem to have managed to take root. I also sowed seeds for yellow cosmos and African marigolds, but I wonder what will happen.

Herb Garden

I always enjoy gardening with the idea of keeping it pesticide-free and organic. At the root of this is the teaching of Paul Smither, who advocates for natural gardens.

As a practice of this, I increased my collection of herbs early this spring. I once read in a book by Ventia that 'scented geraniums repel mosquitoes. Pennyroyal mint for black flies, chives for slugs, basil for flies, and lavender for fleas.' Who would have thought that herbs, which were once just weeds on the roadside in Europe, would become such reliable partners? In fact, at my house, I place aromaticus on the kitchen windowsill to repel cockroaches. The ornamental basil that survived the winter indoors is now a truly reliable presence.

However, there are pests and diseases that cannot be prevented by pruning alone. If I find spider mites, I shower them vigorously with a hose, but for pests that are still unmanageable, it's time for the ultimate weapon: 'Tedetoru.' It takes effort, but this is the most reliable method. Yes, it literally means 'take them by hand.'

But it is troubling that once they get sick, I have no choice but to rely on chemicals. Especially regarding roses, I have decided to gracefully give up on the idea of being completely pesticide-free over the past few years.

Speaking of roses, at the end of last autumn, I welcomed a long-stemmed 'New Dawn' seedling. Perhaps because it is still a young plant, small flowers bloom one after another and then gracefully scatter in just one day. It is a blooming pattern I haven't seen before among the roses in my house. Despite the fleeting nature of their falling, I have come to love their gentle, somewhat antique-like color.

Natural Enemies

Natural enemies are not just spider mites and bagworms. What threatens my house are cats and monkeys.

One day, perhaps because the soil was washed away by rain, a bulb was peeking out. When I dug the soil to 'rebury it,' I found a magnificent 'forgotten gift' buried there. Cats are certainly cute, but this makes me truly angry. The other day, even the musk mallow I had just planted was dug up and withered. Lately, I have been repeating a futile battle of digging and reburying. The other day, I tried spreading thorny branches of yuzu that I had pruned to take away their footing, but I wonder if it will actually be effective...

And what is even more troublesome are the monkeys.
They successfully stole my young corn, which was, so to speak, 'past its prime' but still too early to eat. It happened just as I was planning to take serious countermeasures, having temporarily tucked away yuzu branches to defend the fruit from being ravaged. I have to take my hat off to their cleverness in outsmarting me; I suppose I should call it impressive, even if they are the enemy. The corn had been snapped off right at the base. Even though there had never been any damage or signs of them in my garden before, it seems they had been keeping a close eye on it without me realizing.

While 'coexistence,' where we maintain boundaries while sharing some of the harvest, is the ideal, it seems that is nothing more than a sweet fantasy. After all, I am not growing vegetables to serve as a feeding ground for them. I find myself thinking that perhaps I should just gather the leftover vegetable scraps and create a dedicated feeding spot for them in a corner of the mountains far from human settlements. Coexisting with wild animals, whose numbers have been increasing in recent years, is truly difficult. The title of a book, 'How the Bears Disappeared from Britain,' crosses my mind. The 'instinct to survive' in living things is dazzlingly wonderful. However, consideration for maintaining the world's balance is not built into their instincts. Or perhaps, it is we humans, who have exploded to eight billion and continue to destroy the world's balance, who have reached an era where we should be the ones culled.