My view of the garden these days . . . through windowpanes.
Really, it's the only safe way to do it.
Anytime the sun comes out and beckons I stir cautiously from underneath my dry roof.
I start with the back porch, still under some cover and admire the progress in the window box.
The sun shines brighter. Okay, down the stairs I go, away from my shelter.
Just a quick glance back upwards and the sun fairly dazzles my eyes.
And then, as if to bring extra reassurance, out comes a hummingbird-
I actually manage to catch him in mid-flight! Quite thrilling!
(he's very small, so click on the picture for a closer look)
And after that excitement?
Why, it's as if the very hand of summer has lifted me up and is taking me wondrously through the garden!
What rain? Clouds? . . . sounds vaguely familiar . . . but what are those to me?
And the peonies?
Perfectly framed against the deep green rain-fed foliage.
The azalea amazes.
The warmth of the sun hugs the garden quietly.
All is out and blooming.
And without so many clouds and endless rain, could they ever be this sweet?
I make my rounds; drink in the clean moist air.
Time for the trowel! The kneeling pad! The clippers and my gloves!
But . . . what is this?
Quinn has left the warm patch of sun on the sidewalk for the cover of our porch . . .
. . . hello clouds.
Goodbye garden . . . I'll visit you from the windowpane once more.
Or at least until an hour from now when the sun comes out again.