I was out early enough this morning to hear the birds waking up. So man birds singing at the top of their lungs! I want to form a club made up of people who commit to going outside for ten minutes every morning and listen to the bird chorus. The birds don’t need us to hear them. But we need to hear them and be grateful.
A new bluebird family is one of the many reasons spring and summer are my favorite seasons. Over the next several months, I’ll spend hours watching nature in our backyard.
I planted the vine in the summer of 2000 and the husband and I have enjoyed its blooms every sping since. Wrapping around the mailbox with an abundance of color, I imagine the flowers wishing us a good day in the mornings as we leave and a welcome home upon our return.
I experience a sadness when I see the climatis in bloom as well. I image that the vine will out last my presence here. There may come a time when I move, or even die. That sounds much more morbid than I intend it to. What I mean to say is I wonder what the next homeowners will think of the plant? I like to think they’ll enjoy it as much as we have.
But people have different tastes, and we all like to fiddle with out surroundings. And the truth is, nothing lasts forever.
Ruth drove by a new-to-her nursery on the way to our house last summer. Knowing that I enjoy gardening, she called and asked if I wanted her to stop and get anything. I asked her to look for columbine.
The nursery owner took her to the back of the greenhouse where they found a flat of the plants. Dried out, past their season for planting, and forgotten, the owner said she couldn’t justify charging Ruth and gave her the flat. I planted them anyway, choosing random spots in beds and around the foundation of the house.
I’ve watched them grow this spring, and each one is beginning to flower.
💕 Official flower 🌸 for Sister Ann Wenita Morelove, The Valentine ♥ Nun.
White morning glory, planted late in the season.