Our yard is full of sprouting, blossoming goodness for the future. The raised beds have lettuce, spinach, chard, basil, tomatoes, potatoes, peppers, carrots, brussel sprouts, strawberries, peas, beans, and varied herbs tucked between. The asparagus bed and rhubarb patch is finished already. Oh, I forgot about the
squash, onions, chives, and leeks.
The borders are full of several varieties of blueberries, a large patch of thornless rasberries, and three varieties of thornless blackberries. A hardy female kiwi vine is growing, as are the grapes, and an eastern prince magnolia vine. I added a gooseberry bush and a currant bush today.
The two pear trees are setting fruit. I'd love to have a dwarf apple tree or two.
The flower beds are lush and full. I love the names of each and every plant. We have a strange affection for each other ~ the plants, birds, and rocks in my little corner of the world.
The wisteria is done already, but the clematis and climbing roses are going crazy. The yard is singing with life. I breathe in the clean oxygen and sigh.
We Pacific Northwesterners complain about the rain when it pours unceasingly. But it effortlessly makes all this green surrounding us. It makes a lush curtain and cushion for the harsh reality of volcanos, hurricanes, tornados, hailstorms, earthquakes, tsunami, sex trafficing, aids epidemic, homelessness, famine, ethnic wars, and oil spills.
I want to hide behind it and bury my face in the fragrance where the lady's mantle will catch my useless and futile tears. Mother may I?
We're heading off for vacation to Southern Idaho in the morning.
Desert. Sun. Hot sun~soaked lava rocks.
Lizard life for a week.
Have a good week my lovelies.
I'm off the grid.