Category: Photography
Red Head
Wordless Wednesday: Laughing Lucy
Morning Rounds
Dragonfly: Suit of Armor
Amaranthus: Prince’s Feather
Dog Days of Summer
At 10PM, it is still sweltering. The air thick and stifling. Our beloved Delta Breeze has abandoned us. Nothing moves unless it has to. These are the dog days of summer. The sunflower droops,
The Dahlia says “these puny petals are all that I can muster.”
The bees do their work as early as possible in the day,
And everyone would rather perch than fly.
But give a dog a little pool,
Or puppies a spray of water,
And somehow they find a way.
A few more days of century-plus weather.
Nothing to do but wait it out – and pine for it next winter.
“The magic fades too fast
the scent of summer never lasts…”
― Sanober Khan
Wordless Wednesday: Stick the Landing
What Flowers Speak
Words are one of the ways I express myself. Writer’s block is a familiar foe, but I can usually push through it. Wine helps. But one thing leaves me speechless: the loss of a friend’s beloved fur companion. Words fail me; I’m helpless to console.
All I can say is “I’m sorry. So very sorry.”
And since I can’t find words, I will bring you flowers.
Because flowers always find the light;
they remind us that life unfolds in chapters;
and they are proof that there is beauty even in passing, and in sorrow, too.
These are for you. All of you.
I am so very sorry for your loss.
“Every flower is a soul blossoming in nature.” ~ Gerard de Nerval
Wordless Wednesday: Making a Splash
Take a bow!
“Do Small Things…
…with great love.” ~ Mother Theresa.
Killers: Lily and Turbo
This is Killer.
Her real name is Lily, befitting her sparkly collar – but belying her murderous manners. She moved into the neighborhood about a year ago, along with a once-feral cat named Turbo.
He comes by his name rightly, don’t you think? They live across the street, but they have made my garden their home.
Don’t let the cute act fool you. These cats are bird lover’s nightmare. I’m still too devastated to relay the story of the baby Mourning Dove massacre. They are tight-lipped about which one was the actual assassin.
And a gardener’s nemesis, leaving their little stink bomb surprises in the beds to be uncovered by unsuspecting weeders – or poop-loving Goldens. Yes, Jackson. We’re talking about you.
Bonus: in the middle of the night, they jump off the tree onto the roof to test our dog barking alarm. Yup. Works like a charm.
Cats.
How in the world do you teach them: “GO HOME!”
Gardens For Goldens 