What I thought was autumn's quiet creep around the wheel of the year was just an illusionist's grand trick. Autumn is far off yet. Today we'll reach 100, and tomorrow, and the next day. But the two varieties of creeping cypress we planted back in spring on our woodland arbor are loving the sun. We are trying to keep them watered well since rain has not visited in a while but these plants seem pretty hardy and probably don't even need our tending. The blooms are best in midday, drinking up those sunbeams in their red, fluted blooming cups. And the leaves, especially the broader kind, are mesmerizing, otherworldly with all their beckoning fingers. The twining tendrils are wild and reaching out for one another. I love this plant.