as are the bluebells... and the pink bells, and the white bells:
and the Solomon's seal:
and the white lilac and the red rhododendron:
and the columbine:
and the roses are getting close:
and the sumac, after months of being an unassuming fuzzy stick, is leafing out. I love this baby tree.
Also, I love all the garden's little secrets. I've been having fun putting some of them in myself. Under the garden hoops live the tomatoes:
|(and behind the garden hoops lives a ridiculously large brush pile)|
and behind the rosemary, the sweet peas are beginning to climb their little trellises:
All the sunshine has me feeling positively cheery. If, as suggested, it gets to seventy-eight on Sunday—that's shorts weather, or wear-my-sundress-all-day weather. It's gin-and-tonic, read-out-on-a-blanket-in-the-sun, hook-up-the-hose-for-the-first-time-this-year-and-water-the-gardens weather. My kind of weather.
Maybe I'll take Harry Potter out on a blanket and get some reading in.
* * *
Maia in "There's something interesting on the floor, and I think I'm going to kill it" mode:
|From here, it looks like a bit of already-dead koosh ball,|
left over from nieces' visit.
* * *
Music of the week: The Flower Duet from Delibes' Lakmé. The speakers max out into crackles a few times in this recording, but I've no fault to find with the singing.
* * *