The sound of goldfinches, robins and cardinals praising nature ring through the garden these days. I, on the other hand, just tend to sigh with satisfaction at all I survey. Almost all. There's the pathetic sight of our crooked hazelnut (Corkscrew Hazel) whose foliage has been destroyed by vast, voracious armies of Japanese beetles that do less than give me thrills, but it's just one of those things a gardener has to shrug at; it is nature at work.

And then there's the thuggish nature of those beautiful but incredibly pushy Harlequin vines that I innocently enough planted myself many years ago. The original vine obviously felt that having been planted, it became its right to shove aside all others in the garden it occupies space in, to eventually become the dominant feature. Just as well it's a beautiful plant in its own right, taking on fall colour of reds, pinks and oranges on its mostly green foliage and producing pretty white flowers, midsummer. Before I fully understood its nature I even planted bits of it in other garden beds which it now joyfully dominates.

It's good to see that the Begonia corms we overwintered in the basement which I always plant in the back garden pots are doing so well. That species always produces the most exquisite of blooms in such vivid colours, multi-petalled and robustly-sized, they quickly became the most favourite of all our garden flowers.

Ladies Mantle, which produces a nice neat little hump of attractive leaves that retain overnight dew most attractively and which produces a nice spray of little flowers is another invasive plant. The original that I planted in the rock garden has since reproduced itself countless times in various places in the rock garden. Oops, Day Lilies acquire the same spreading habit. Just as well we appreciate them and don't mind the spread.

I haven't planted Morning Glories in years. No need to. The vines simply grow from the seeds left from the year's before spent flower petals. By late June they begin to erupt out of the garden soil. A few weeks later I'm signalled by their enthusiastic growth and outreach to begin stringing them up, and by mid-July they're producing those wonderful blue-to-violet trumpets glorying in the morning sun.

And it's fascinating that our backyard Magnolia is in its second flush of blooms; not as numerous as in the spring, but the odd pink bud is preparing to fully open. Its older, much larger counterpart in the front garden has never produced more than one spring flush of flowers albeit in greater numbers. Still, it's a treat to see them return on the smaller of the two trees. The older one is now so large it reaches to the roof of our two-story house.

The garden has a habit of looking after itself with minimal aid from the gardener, other than the tidying-up function.

Centre: Japanese Anemone coming into bloom