The yard is in need of edging, which means grass is thick around the edges in various spots. But I got a new book the other day, and I’d much rather sit and read. Of course, that’s not really the responsible thing to do, but I wonder if I’m aging out of the need to be responsible, and is it really responsible? After all I am getting soft around the edges so maybe my yard can be soft around the edges. We’d be a matched pair.

I like some of the little vagrant plants that call my gardens home. One’s that caught my eye for several seasons is cutleaf evening primrose. It grows close to the ground with lovely little yellow flowers that are pinkish when they close up. Several plants call the north fence garden home. It makes sense they’d show up since the ground is freshly tilled and I’ve taken no steps to stop wild seeds from sprouting.

On the highway between Johnson City and Dripping Springs lies the unincorporated area known as Henly. When we first moved to the area, it was simply a wide spot in the road. Now, it’s way more than that. As you drive through and look north you can see the valley and the hills beyond. We owe that nice view to a company that sells aggregate. In 2016 they started clearing away the vegetation before they began carting away the hills by the truck load. Strip mining old sea floors. There’s no telling how low the hills will go before they get done.

My wildflowers are certainly enjoying the cool embrace of our recent wet weather. The Lemon Bee Balm is coming up along with some Queen Annes Lace that was in one of the wildflower packets I sowed. Not many consider the Lace a wildflower. But there it is so I’ll take it. It bears a small resemblance in its flowers and leaves to hedge parsley, which I pull from my gardens when I can. We’ll see how the new visitor matures.

Two, two-inch rains, back-to-back, is a good soaking in anyone’s book. And if I kept detailed stats, I’d be able to comment on just how much rain has fallen this month of May. But my stat keeping is nonexistent. I might note it in this blog, but there’s no other record. So, let me sum it up. Monday and Tuesday were wet, rainy days. My rain tanks are full, and the ground is as soft as butter.

We had another good rain yesterday. My gauge clocked in at 2.5 inches, and a lot of that fell in a very short time. I suppose that’s why my phone started blowing up with flash flood warnings. More is promised today once the day warms and the air gets stirred up. We’ve had a nice wet month of May, and some of the local lakes are benefiting. So, it was a nice Memorial Day.

Walked into the carport yesterday to get my gloves and came face to face with three wren chicks learning to fly. One fluttered off to get stuck between the shelves and the carport wall. The remaining two just sat and looked at me. The mother or the father, I don’t know which headed back to the nest. In deference to the birds and the training session, I backed up, forswore the gloves, and moved on.

It’s a lovely morning in the neighborhood. The sun is out, the birds are singing, there’s dew on the grass. The air is cool and kind. I’m in a good mood. I have a slightly sore finger from the prick of Mesquite thorn. I started trimming a tree yesterday and got careless. But overall, I feel fine, and I’m doing the best I can to maintain that spirit.

When we first moved into our new home we were gifted with spineless cactus. We put one on either side of the entrance to our driveway. Eventually, they outgrew the space. I dug them up and moved them to the backlots along the south fence. There they are thriving. To say they are comfortable in their space is an understatement. They are a great windbreak and deer deterrent.

On Thursday the golf gods smiled. Chips rolled close. Putts dropped in. I shot a low score for an old man. On Sunday, the gods were attending other business. Ancient swing thoughts sprang forth. Balls went hither and yon or nowhere at all. We took shelter from lightning. The round progressed to its inglorious end. My humility was strengthened. I will try again.

Over the years, I’ve had little plots of ground to call my own. Some were large, most were small. Mostly, the typical subdivision. A house. A front yard. A backyard. The latter was where the magic happened, for me. A privacy fence gave privacy of a sort. Combined with the magic of the mind I could stand outside and survey my kingdom.

The wrens are hellbent on nesting in and around the house. This spring I had one try build a nest in the watering can sitting on top of a rain barrel on the north porch. Now I discover there’s a nest in a box on top of the shelves in the carport. I think I’ll let them have it. Next season I’ll build them some boxes and set them out in likely places.

My north fence garden is filling in nicely. I created it as support for a struggling chinquapin oak that was trying to survive in bare ground. The garden and the oak seem to be doing well. I’m particularly impressed with the upright rosemary, a plant that previously never graced my grounds. I have no idea why, but we always bought prostrate rosemary. Things change I guess.

A nice thing about spring, especially the days when it dresses up like summer, is how cool it gets in the evening. The heat of a summer day, which lingers into the night, is only a hint in the warm days of late spring. When the sun goes down, the heat goes down. The yard is a nice place to walk. The flowers still have a spring in their step.g walk.

I was walking down the porch this morning and realized I had a visitor in my little Zen rock garden. A rather large, plump looking mushroom. A stranger. One I’d never seen before. A quick search suggested it might be Penny Bun (Boletus edulis). Apparently, it’s a prized mushroom and edible. But don’t think for a second I’ll eat a mushroom based on what Google tells me. Nope. I’m just going to look at it, and marvel, because it is pretty.

With the appearance of the sun, after days of rain, you can almost hear the engines revving in the gardens, and the flower’s shouting, “Let’s go, boys, time for some photosynthesis.” Water, light and carbon dioxide are ready to come crashing together. Roots will get fed, oxygen will pour out, and plants will raise arms of new growth and shout, “Alleluia!” These are the days of plenty.

There’s a softness that comes after a hard rain, especially when the clouds close in and the weather cools. The birds let loose a mighty chorus, and the leaves are green in more shades than have been cataloged. There seems no need to rush, to hurry, to do anything other than simply stand and look and listen. So, I stand and look and listen.

I love flowers that thrive and surprise. My scarlet sage, the mealy sage, the spiderworts, gregg’s mist flowers, and the trees my son planted. All came as unknowns but took up residence once in the ground as though it were the culmination of their life’s work. Now I have another. The Scarlet Leather Flower (Clematis texensis). Gifted to me by a friend, for two seasons it pondered its future, before springing to life this spring. The vine climbed. The flowers bloomed. And now it’s showtime. As of this writing, the vine is up in the neighboring crape myrtle.

It looks to be a gray, dreary day this morning, but these days no day with rain is dreary. Rain is a thing to be celebrated. It’s a time of drought. Rain is relief. So, I’m willing to walk about wet if only it comes from rain falling from the sky. I’ll be happy and I’ll go about my day with a smile.

The rain continues to fall, and my little gauge is now up to an inch and a half. When the sun comes up, I think I’m going to take a drive and see how the creeks are running. Although, slow and steady rains after months of dry days usually get soaked up by the parched ground. The gauges on my local river indicate an elevated flow, however, so I’m cautiously optimistic about the creeks.