The day has a refreshingly crisp clean edge to the air. The darkening cloud layer makes it appear dreary from the living room window, but a bit romantic from the backyard swing. It takes determination to vegetate out there with a storm moving in, and the wind whipping or should I say ripping through my hair. Plants burst forth in spring with all the raging energy of that blinding fireball that keeps us toasty warm, and this fall they are determined to go out with a blast before their deep sleep sets in for the long winter ahead.
I'm wondering what happened to my summer...oh, that's right...I was a slave to the beck and call of that other love in my life...my gardens. They showed me no mercy this too short of a long hot summer. That devilish bermuda grass forged an insurmountable wedge between me and my smell the flowers moments.
The crocus's could be heard through the bedroom walls chanting the rains are coming, the rains are coming...get your lazy butt out here and take pictures! In my house-dress and bedroom hair, I took pictures of anything and everything that got in my way. A few survived the delete to the recycle bin, and almost make it worthwhile to have been caressed lovingly on my left ankle by a certain Miss Poison Ivy.