I did it. Got my summer ‘do. Cut my hair. No one from CSNY cares. It was time. I was tired of it getting in my face in my food in my way.

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.

What a day. I trimmed. I mowed. I cleaned. My gosh a veritable whirlwind of activity. I even cleaned the hard-to-reach places where I know no one will look.

It rained again last night, or maybe early this morning. Anyway, right now the sun is out, and as I stood in the drive admiring the cool air, a breeze blew through. It ruffled the thick foliage of the crape myrtle and lacy oaks, and as it did, little rain showers descended from each of the trees, backlit by the morning sun.

Tuesday mornings. Make coffee, feed the cats, take out the trash. Sometimes its garbage. Today it was trash.

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

Hooray for the Gulf of Mexico. Thanks for all the water. Got a good bit yesterday. My gauges are at an inch and a half since Saturday morning. It looks thought we’re in for another dosing today.

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.

A little riff on marriage, about what it meant to be us..

Yesterday, as I was mowing the yard, I drove right into my old life.

Nature. Life’s little instruction book. Particularly, when it comes to making do.

This is the spring of the two blooms. My oaks are putting on new leaves, again. Nice.

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.

One of the nicest things that can happen is to have someone want to make your acquaintance, to say hello I’ve always wanted to meet you.

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.

I tried. I failed. I am going back to setting my alarm for 5:30. I’m still trundling off to bed around 9:30 with the goal of eight hours of sleep, but I’ll settle for seven or even 6 and a half. But staying in bed until 6:30 is over.

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

Wow. Three days away from writing this little blog and it’s like all the words in my brain decided, “If you’re not going to use us, we’re just going to head out.”