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.

The air outside my house is in an agitated state. Through my back window the mesquite whips about as does the Sumac and the trees along the far fence line.

I finally got around to trimming back the deadwood of the once vibrant Barbados Cherry. Turns out, it’s cherries, as in multiple plants.

The morning glory, bought at a little shop in Blanco, began its life with us on the fence behind the eve’s necklace and mountain laurels. They were short, the fence was tall, and the morning glory thrived.

The Barbados cherry will become a shorter plant today. Over the years it had managed to become a nice shrubby bush, about four feet tall.

Spring is like the movie you love to watch over and over, with every appearance a director’s cut so that there is always something new to see.

There is nothing like a night of music with friends, the drive home, and falling into bed, tired and happy only to be notified around 1:30 a.m. that you forgot to put the cat out.

Happy days in the gardens. Everything is growing, blooming, or getting ready to bloom. Even the pansies that I put in for winter color are having a go at spring.

Lavender. An unassuming star of our gardens. Star in the sense that it needs little water, has a lovely foliage color, and grows well in a relaxed sort of way.