It's summer & beauty like ripening fruit is coming by the truckload. The current bit of moon is visible overhead at 3pm. I've been in the backyard since I woke up at 9. No mistaking, it is hot. Still there is a great breeze giving the little bell chime a real work out, & the new plantings are responding well to the drink I gave them. I've been filling & placing hanging baskets everywhere. There are three in the little lime tree alone--one angel-wing begonia, one full of New Guinea impatiens & one with those chartreuse bromeliads I divided & put everywhere. They are under a branch & they fit with the idea of a secret garden--one with hidden color & sound revealed only when the breeze ruffles though.
The reading chaise area is my current fave hiding spot, a pleasant eddy that catches you with a good book & pulls you willingly in. I didn't intend to finish this Harper Lee today, but the chaise got me & that book is history.
T
he book & lunch are over & there is still full sun on the rock pile, so it isn't yet shoveling time. And I'm having this curious sensation--an unfamiliar drive to actually complete a project. Hmm. What are the odds of that really happening?
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