(And, because I can’t resist adding photos, here are two recent images from the yard….)
With swirling breezes and temperatures in the seventies, today might have been mistaken for spring.
The pear tree shrugged off its cloak of leaves and stood all day, bare-limbed, in a pool of gold and brown.
Robins and warblers perched on sunlit branches, their restless urge to forage temporarily forgotten.
But today’s weather shouldn’t fool any of us, trapped as we are in winter’s web.
An early dusk approaches, wheeling night behind it. Sleep is creeping through the yard, with months to go before waking.
I’ve had my windows open most of the day, which means every surface in my house is coated with a thick yellow layer of pollen. The weather radar is turning yellow, too, with bright splashes of red…
I’m stunned by the number of bees in our yard. Bees of every shape and size, sampling every flower. The pear tree is the main attraction, but only because it is the most flamboyant, positively exploding with blooms. The bees are not so pear-dazzled that they ignore the dandelions and irises, nor any of the other flowers that vie for their attention.
Dandelions? I’m eternally fascinated with them.
Purple Dead-nettle? I think it’s beautiful
However, even I have limits. Thistles are tough on my bare feet and the dog’s tender toes.
And ants? I don’t mind them in the yard, but they’re never content to stay in the yard. They always want to move into the garage, or the kitchen, or the mailbox…
But it’s good to have limits, isn’t it? Otherwise life would dissolve into a mad, messy carnival of happiness.
On the other hand, thistles are quite pretty…