Then there are the houseguests. These are an odd assortment of mostly friends of friends who manage to make their way to our doorstep. They are always visiting from other parts of the world, literally.

And then there are the houseguests of our friends, also from parts hither and yon.

This is the price we pay for living in Homer. When we moved here from Wasilla 28 years ago I had no inkling of the magnitude of the attraction our living in Homer would have on others.

This all adds up to a fairly steady stream of nongardeners who, upon seeing the garden, consistently proclaim “You must spend a lot of time out here.”

Well, yes.

Which is the point, for me, of having a garden. I love to spend time out of doors although I am no longer so very interested in getting my outdoor experience by sharing hiking trails with bears, bugs and devil’s club.

Which made walking the Snowmads’ boardwalk trail out to the Caribou Lake area such a treat. My nongardening spouse, John, had ridden his bicycle out there last week and noticed the wildflowers. Knowing my interest in wildings, he suggested that we take a nice walk.

Off we went with a picnic on a fairly dry day with a lovely breeze that almost kept the bugs at bay. The meadows were just stuffed with flowers. Everything from ladies tresses (orchids) to larkspur was in bloom. If you go this week you will probably miss the iris but the show should still be on.

It felt good to be among the native plants. It has been years since I have gone off with my flower book and had a good look-see. And this trail is a comfortable walk, no hand over hand on the way up or grabbing for roots on the way down, just rolling terrain and lots of opportunity to look at flowers. I highly recommend it.

Back in my own little world, all neatly fenced in and free of bears and devil’s club I got to look at it from the perspective of my 13-month-old granddaughter, Cecilia. She was very fascinated with the bees that were busy in the delphiniums and the piles of rose petals under the three Theresa Bugnets. The wind and rain has not been kind to the roses.

Enjoying her company does not preclude working in the garden. But I decided that the tool bag would stay in the greenhouse, lots of sharp objects in there. The second round of deadheading is under way. I usually use grass shears to snip off spent blooms so seed pods will not form, thus shortening the life and bloom time of the plant. But, with Cecilia for company I used my hands and this worked far more successfully than any shears.

There are about five kinds of geranium out here and they do look ratty when the blooms are spent. So I just snapped them off with a gloved hand and made very quick work of it. The aquilegia (columbine) has a more stubborn stem and will wait for a day when I am alone and can use the shears.

The seed heads do not go into the compost pile. I do not trust the pile to heat enough to kill the seeds. This misty moisty weather is perfect for burning the deadheaded material in the fire pit and then return the ashes to the garden. Herman Hesse’s Hours in the Garden has a lovely passage about burning garden debris, I think of him every time I burn my little pile of spent blooms.

The peonies are so magnificent that I had a tea party for them. There were seven of us and before there could be any tea, there was sparkling wine to make a toast to these most glorious, most satisfying of blooms. There was something timeless, something very Alaskan, about us heedlessly standing in a light drizzle, allowing our blanc de noir to dilute, as we paid tribute to these most un-Alaskan flowers.

Keep in mind that peonies, if you cut them before they are completely open, will make a lovely dried flower. Hang upside down in a well ventilated room and wait.

I raise peonies for the memory of my maternal grandmother, Rose Mangine. She had a stocky hedge of red, pink, white peonies. I am sure she had no idea of their names, just the colors were enough for her. They were covered in ants and thrips which she shook out, sort of, before laying the stems across my outstretched arms. We would then make our way to the house and fill the cut crystal vase with the treasure of peonies.

I am hoping that Cecilia will carry the memory of me and peonies in her heart long after I am gone.

Note: There will be a Homer Garden Club tour Sunday. Meet at 2 p.m. at city hall for directions and to car pool. Featured gardens are those of Jennifer and Paul Castellani and Norman Lowell Studio and Gallery.