I actually got out in to the garden. I weeded. (And weeded and weeded and weeded and....) I planted all of the beautiful plants I bought in May. (So sad, I know, please don't judge.) After 12 yard bags filled to the top, I think my garden actually sighed and whispered to each other, "Its about time." Even the birds were thankful. Now that they can see the birdbath again, the wrens and chickadees all lined up on the fence very politely waiting their turn for a quick dip (its very funny to watch.) Then the grackle flies in, he doesn't care about pecking order, or who is waiting in line on the fence. He just swoops in and everyone else, finished or not, flies off. Rotten bird.
I can see the hydrangeas now. They are a crimson red- I have no idea when they turned this color from lime green and bluish purple.
All the anemones are gone. They heard a whisper in their ear from the wind- and they blindly and willingly went dancing away with him and his promises of adventure.
I read somewhere that a weed is just a flower looking for a home. I totally disagree. I like to pretend I can control my little piece of earth, weeds be gone! But then something pretty like this ivy vine comes wandering around and I wonder if he was just looking for a home, and because my garden- in the state it was in-was a suitable place to put down some roots, and ask the family to come join, and hang out here for a while.
I will allow this visit. Don't get too cozy. Don't call all of your relatives. But you sure do look pretty today.