There’s been some mighty pretty things going on in the garden this month. I wondered if you might like to step into that world for a moment. I won’t keep you long.
It has been said, “Flowers are the poetry of nature.” How true that is. They’re the writer’s pen, the artist’s brush, the weaver’s loom. They’re a reason to get up early on a dewy morning. They draw me out for one last stroll as the sun slants low in the evening. They’re ruffled petticoats and draping jewels, delicate, decadent, romantic, shy. They work magic on my soul but the awe is so compelling it hurts a little bit. It’s too big. Or I’m too small. I hope you enjoy the photos.
To the right, Penstemon backlit by the afternoon sun.
Below, fuchsias dripping from the weekend watering.
Baptisia in amethyst and sage.
Impatien, sweet and pure to its very heart.
Thank goodness for the garden. Have a wonderful day.
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