|Japanese peony 'Hanakisoi'|
|A passalong iris, I know it is named, but unsure|
|I saw this luscious begonia planted with simple white alyssum, bedded out. It was a marvelous combo.|
|Coleus I wintered over|
|Savoy cabbage in the rain|
|Akebia quinata, taking prisoners...|
|This coleus looks almost reptilian|
|Geranium 'Tiny Monster'|
|Siberian Iris 'Caesar's Brother', in bud|
It rained all day today.
It wasn't supposed to rain. It was supposed to be sunny, not really sunny, but at least partly cloudy, which lately is like having sunshine.
So few days lately where the sky is a glorious blue, like Parthenon blue. Yay, I know the Parthenon is that off limestone white, but I've seen the Parthenon. Decades ago now, and the day I looked up and there it was looming on the hill in the middle of Athens, it was set against an awesome blue sky and I stood there trying to capture the picture in my mind (long before cameras were so common as to have one in every cell phone, or there even were cellular telephones...) The blue was so blue, made moreso by the yellow in the white of the limestone, or marble or whatever carvable stone the Parthenon's real Greek pillars (versus from whatever faux you see pillars made here in The States) were made. The sky was cloudless, yet off in the distance at the on the hills against the horizon fires smoldered, set by terrorists. But that day to a twenty-something, the world was all that bright promise of blue.
With the internet, and Google and its sundry products and Pinterest, you can pull up pictures of anywhere at any time. The world is so much smaller and obtainable, yet it seems to have moved ever farther away from me.
I'm just probably sunlight-deprived, or maybe craving some warm days.
Although I have planted a few salad-y sorts of things in the potager, I have yet to till the family garden, yet to plant potatoes. there's been a broken plow followed by just too much rain. The peppers and tomatoes sit on the deck, hardened off and demanding water lest it NOT rain. I fear planting my edamame along my berry bramble, and have the neighbor in a heedless fit of garage siding euphoria trample them as they emerge. Maybe lots of pointy sticks set cross-hatching their location, like some sort of vegetative tiger trap should the blackberry brambles not ward off hapless garage siding persons?