I wanted to write Sunday things. But I can’t settle to anything. Just may I say that while I never want to go to church (get up, dress up, make up, get somewhere on time and sit for hours), once I am there, inevitably, I have the BEST time. Love the talks and the singing and the discussion and hangin’ with the gang. And I pretty much always come out feeling more alive. More hopeful. So that was writing a Sunday thing.
I took a little tour of the yard Friday, just to prove to everyone that it’s may here in the mountains. And finally, the earth is claiming the season. Wanna come along?
In May, our grass grows lush and velvet green. The Bishop’s Weed is a lighter color, fresh and spilling over the edges of its bed.
The swing falls from a different branch now, the old one having died, and finally fallen (not on anybody, thankfully).
The dogs are on patrol, making sure to keep the riff raff dogs on their own side of the river.
Quick May dogs.
What will be the canopy is only a green mist in the branches.
The violets nearly overcome the bridge.
Hidden in the thicket.
South side of a north-bound dog.
And small animal trails appear all through the greenery.
The construction was hard on the yard, leaving us with scrabbled areas. The yard is generally wild, as we have little time to do much sculpting. But we love it this way.
Apples. I love the bright pink bowls of the blossoms.
Inside now. Looking out.
Next day: rain.
And HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!
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