It’s a wonder what two inches of rain will do for a landscape. Everything softens. New leaves pop out of the trees. The grasses spring forth.

The mesquite is in bloom. I wonder what sort of news that is in the insect kingdom?

I meant to go sit in the pool last night. Never did. Don’t know why. It’s funny how you can get an idea early in the day to do something, and when the time comes it just seems like too much trouble.

Out in the garden, out in the yard, out in the everywhere things are growing.

There’s a flowerbed in the middle of the tif yard just off the southern porch. We used to grow tomatoes there. Now it’s home to a batch of schoolhouse flowers, wild onions, a lantana, two turks caps, a Mexican plum, a palmleaf mistflower, and johnson grass.

I’m going to naturalize another weed to a role in the garden. Although, I doubt the plant will have any idea what’s going on. It will put down roots and grow.

I suppose I should be happy I’m still alive and have things to learn, because there’s only one way to graduate from the school of life.

Muggy morning. Boo. I prefer cool and crisp. It’s good though. The general consensus is that a month of rain saturating the ground might make for a cool July.

There’s a persistent little weed in my garden. It looks like a grass but has stems that are so weak they fall over. It’s one shining attribute is a tiny, two-lobed blue flower that appears every morning before disappearing around noon.

Goodness. The rain. It keeps on coming. I’m this close to saying, enough. But I’m not looking for a rainbow. I hope we have a wet summer.

Part of my Sumac collapsed a victim of gravity. Fell on the fence. I chopped it up and took it to the burn pile. No worries. There’s plenty of tree left.

My morning glory is thriving. Spring rains and sunlight are working wonders. Unfortunately, it crushed its makeshift trellis and took it to the ground.

Yesterday I confessed to owning an above ground pool. Maybe less than a confession more like an acknowledgement.

I went for a walk in the wildflowers yesterday.

My poor mountain laurel. It got bit hard by the big freeze. I’d never seen it bare branched until now. But there it was, nothing to show for its years in the ground except brown wood.

I was surrounded by my own little diverse garden of friends who provide shade and comfort and feed my soul to help keep me going. Together, I think we might prevail.

The wild onion. A treasure in the natural garden.

It’s a gray, misty morning and the air is full of moisture. Sounds are muffled. There’s a promise of rain.

The ground beneath the big peach tree is littered with the bodies of little, gonna-be peaches, except now they’re on the ground and won’t become peaches.

Yesterday morning, all I could tell you about the rain was that it was falling. Today, this morning, I am able to report in what volume. Nearly, two inches.