Roses are Red

Yes, they most certainly are. I think some of these photos almost look fake. Like a black velvet painting... without the black.

Garden Song

" Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.... Remember me, na, na, na, la la la, hm, do, do, my garden is fine." I think it goes something like that.

Speaking of Thunder Shoes...

Just so you know what I'm up against. Here is the cactus ear that Glenn and I so carefully stole from someone's front yard (well, theirs was huge and I am sure they didn't miss one ear for a second, so no moralizing about theft...), and which we then so carefully planted in our mini oasis. Anyway, nothing is safe in our yard apparently, as this poor thing got trampled a couple of weeks ago. However...... there is a silver lining: Nature is nothing if not intrepid!!!

Garden Math

Late Day Sun + Spring Green = Peace + Tranquility = Utter Contentment

Get it? It's a very straightforward equation.

Give me this gentle light, and I can feel any tensions that might exist, dissipating like the early morning mist before the sun....

See? Even the presence of the rebounder, there to the left, (now placed in front of the fledgling Live Oak by young Master Thunder Shoes), doesn't phase me.

Isn't Math great?

Raging at the Rebounder

Why, oh why, oh why? What was I thinking?! There I sat, on a peaceful, sunny, late afternoon, on my back patio, talking to a friend on the phone. Can you picture it? The light is most beautiful at that time of day. Suddenly, the quiet and serenity cast by the lengthening shadows evaporates, when out of the house bounds The Child With Unlimited Energy. He begins a world cup battle for which a crushing defeat of the opponent is the only acceptable result. The semi-deflated soccer ball is kicked relentlessly against the rebounder, and imaginary saves are enacted with incredible drama. Wait a minute! It looks like the Good Guys are about to make what could be the winning goal. Yes! The ball soars OVER the rebounder and CRASHES into the Lady Banks Rose, sending up a shower of yellow blossoms. The petals fill the air like confetti thrown in jubliation. Nooooooooo! Not the Lady Banks!! I leap from my seat on the patio, and yell in my most high-pitched, terroristic voice, "I keell you. I KEELL you!!! You monster!" (I may have damaged the ear drums of the poor person I was speaking to.) The game was over, I made sure of THAT. But he didn't care, because he'd won. Damn that rebounder. My horrible son says I brought this on myself. Well. I think it'll be books for Christmas from now on.

The Garbage Can Tree

It's not a garbage can tree, silly, it's a Red Bud. But we planted it round the side of the house by the garbage can, after the neighbors decided to remove the ginormous bush that wasn't beautiful but provided quite a bit of shade and hid their house somewhat.

So, a friend didn't want this city-provided red bud, and although they really aren't my favourite tree by any stretch of the imagination, we thought we'd give it a go.

The poor thing is probably very lonely, and is certainly ignored, so I thought it deserved to be featured because despite being forgotton most of the time, it has valiantly put out some spring plumage and seems to be giving another year a go. Hang in there little Red Bud!

Speaking of tiny insects, isn't this my friend from the red rose? What a lucky guy!!! Who says life isn't a bed of roses?? Cause it certainly is for him.