I’ve had a series of spirit lifting days, mostly filled with music, satisfying work, and good company.

Out in the garden, out in the yard, out in the everywhere things are growing.

There’s a flowerbed in the middle of the tif yard just off the southern porch. We used to grow tomatoes there. Now it’s home to a batch of schoolhouse flowers, wild onions, a lantana, two turks caps, a Mexican plum, a palmleaf mistflower, and johnson grass.

The temperature is rising. A man can work up a nice sweat working in the yard. That’s what I did yesterday, worked up a sweat.

I’m going to naturalize another weed to a role in the garden. Although, I doubt the plant will have any idea what’s going on. It will put down roots and grow.

I had something to say, yesterday. Now I can’t remember what it was. Dang.

I suppose I should be happy I’m still alive and have things to learn, because there’s only one way to graduate from the school of life.

Muggy morning. Boo. I prefer cool and crisp. It’s good though. The general consensus is that a month of rain saturating the ground might make for a cool July.

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.

They say you learn how to grieve as a child by watching those around you. I never thought much about it until now with the passing of my wife. Then I started taking an inventory.

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.

Went to hear live music last night. Met a new friend. Sat with old friends. Got a hug from a pretty girl. Drank a beer, or two. The doors of perception cracked open.

I have to confess. Sometimes, this feels so vain. Constantly talking about everything I see and do.

Went to the river this weekend. Camped in the woods, beneath the big pecans. The trees are heavy and thick with age.

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.