We love peaceful Sundays; no matter how bad the rest of the day is, Sunday morning should be calm, and peaceful. Yet, whenever I sit under my modest carport, with my shabby-not-chic plastic lawn furniture to eat something and to write, the peace is shattered by someone's lawn mower or trimmer The same thing happens at dusk. I'm sure I've come home late and banged a door, and I can't control with my Dad's cleaning lady comes, or when the lawn folks show up to help. I'm terribly grateful to both because I can't that kind of heavy work any more. Yet, we do what we can, and I'm happy for even a tiny moment of tranquility. Here are some photos from this week's work.
This was not the year again for planting or experimenting. I was lucky to get a gift of Blackout pansies from my neighbor and friend, LJK, and I bought variations of flox. They work in fairy gardens and are colorful in my pots. The cold weather and torrential rains we had more or less wiped out the flox, so I’ve gone to begonias. The rains pelted down everything, even my prairie grass. The aftermath reminded me of an essay in The Norton Anthology of Nature Writing about carnage in a garden after a hard rain.
This year, we hope our black Holly Hock will finally bloom. I’ve set up tiny fairy gardens, and the simple gnome village in back. I have my tables out, and one large silk plant that I use as a seasonal tree. It is decorated for the seasons, and sits under my carport. I love my lawn ornaments, and they are out, though I’ve bought nothing new this year.
Summer is nearly upon us, but it still gets cool. The trees are beautiful, all green shade.
|There are Angels Among us, Everywhere|
|Memorial Day on The Yellow Brick Road|
|Sharing the Harvest, Vintage Painted Wood Lawn Art|
|When Bacchus Rests|
|Rock a bye Baby Ducks with Vintage Doll Buggy|
|Morning has Broken|