Garden Chatter
It’s cool this morning. It feels like spring. The air is fresh and clear. There’s still a hint of moisture from the days of rain. There’s a breeze, too. New green sprouts cover almost everything in the garden. The sumac along the back porch are lush. I may regret letting them run wild, but for now they’re shelter for the little birds and welcome shade for the ground beneath their feet.
Later this morning, when the dew is off the grass, I plan on walking the gardens. The turks caps and false mallows should be ready to bloom, and there should be new buds on the rock roses. The coral sage is already at the party, as is the salvia, lantana, wild onions, and blackfoot daisies. The crossvine is making its climb up the trellis. Lots of flowers for lots of creatures. The hummingbirds are active, songbirds are flying, and there are butterflies everywhere.
I’m not sure what I’d be doing if I didn’t have my plants to look after. It’s a hard to imagine life. So, I’m not even going to go there. Why try? Growing things is fun even if it’s only for the flowers and leaves and shade. It certainly keeps me occupied and the magical juice it supplies my brain is a real thing. The plants talk to me, mainly in whispers, as I walk among them and stand beneath their branches. We’re friends. It’s nice. I tend to their needs; they tend to mine. I think it’s love.