Here’s to cool mornings and warm days. They’re especially nice when they follow days of rain. Flowers bloom, trees put on leaves, and everything feels right with the world. The pace of life seems to slow to a nice amble to take advantage of the weather. I’m still walking the yards looking for khaki weed, but they’re easy to spot even when they crouch down among their neighbors and grow low. I’m sure there will be seeds for next spring, but every plant I pull is one less source.

I’d like the Morning Glory to bloom, but I’m happy with the dark green of the big leaves because it means the roots are being energized for winter. The asters, meanwhile, are flowering and soon the lacy oak by the guest parking spot will have a carpet of purple and yellow at its feet. Maybe a king or queen will come by. The last of the salvia greggi we planted on the opposite side of the lacy, when we moved in, is also blooming, and looking rather healthy. Ten years on and still going strong, a nice scarlet to go with the purple asters.

I could go on with the litany of plants and their blooms, but it’s starting to feel a bit melancholy although that may be the point of slow walks among the flowers. It’s a chance to admire their natural beauty and call to mind the woman who helped me plant them, and oohed and aahed over them even when dementia robbed her of the ability to be any more articulate. And that’s okay. I have a feeling the days of missing her are just getting started, and it will be nice to have the company of flowers along the way.