Sometimes we don’t notice the beauty we’re surrounded with until we look with fresh eyes.
I was focused on a major cleanup project in the garden when I finally took a breath and looked up. It was only then that I noticed being surrounded with the joy of color. Everywhere I turned, I was greeted with the wonder of nature.
Blooming calendula…
Felicia amelloides variegata: ‘Variegated Marguerite Blue Daisy’…
“Let us come alive to the splendor that is all around us and see the beauty in ordinary things.” — Thomas Merton
Yellow Marguerite Daisy…
…and prolific white daisy groundcover…
There’s so much to be grateful for!
Acacia in bloom…
“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” — A.A. Milne
This Red-Shouldered Hawk is perched on a palm tree just over the fence in the open space.
I often see these majestic birds of prey soar high overhead or perch like this on tree branches. Its rising, whistled kee-rah is a distinctive sound. They hunt small mammals, amphibians, and reptiles.
I hope he’s looking for his next meal…he’s the very real definition of hawk-eye!
On a side note, could the sky BE any bluer? I think not.
This is an indication of how much rain we’ve had in Southern California and just how soggy the garden is…and more rain is on the way.
Unidentified fungi appeared in the crevice of a split ficus trunk that was cut down a couple years ago because the roots were starting to come too close to the foundation.
I wanted to keep the stump instead of grinding it because I thought it was architecturally beautiful and now it’s decomposing exactly like I hoped it would.
These mushrooms are definitely not edible, right? They’re most likely poisonous and I’m certainly not going to find out one way or another. I’m not THAT curious or adventurous. Or dumb.
A day later, here’s how they morphed and darkened, plus it’s raining:
Fascinating!
I found a poem by Emily Dickinson about mushrooms…
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants
The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants – At Evening, it is not At Morning, in a Truffled Hut It stop opon a Spot
As if it tarried always And yet it’s whole Career Is shorter than a Snake’s Delay – And fleeter than a Tare –
’Tis Vegetation’s Juggler – The Germ of Alibi – Doth like a Bubble antedate And like a Bubble, hie –
I feel as if the Grass was pleased To have it intermit – This surreptitious Scion Of Summer’s circumspect.
Had Nature any supple Face Or could she one contemn – Had Nature an Apostate – That Mushroom – it is Him!
My poetry professor would be proud of this haiku I wrote…
solitary finch perched deep in the mulberry will you stay or go? By Princess Rosebud
This morning, I looked up into the branches of a winter-nude mulberry and couldn’t resist snapping a photo of this precious little finch.
I had to run to retrieve my phone as I willed her to stay long enough for a photo op. “Please don’t move, please don’t move, please don’t go.”
And she didn’t.
I was rewarded with a mostly monochromatic composition, which is exactly what I’d hoped for. In reality, the little bird has a yellow breast, but the quality of light turned everything almost colorless and dramatic.
As I cleaned up the garden from leaves and branches and other debris, I looked up and snapped a photo of the very last of the clouds from that atmospheric rain event that brought us four+ inches of rain in a short period of time.
It’s warm and the sun is drying out the soggy earth.
When we first met (at Trader Joe’s) and fell in love, he whispered to me that a little support would make him happy. Since I love to oblige, it was an easy request to grant, however, this proclivity of mine set the stage for me to become irrevocably injured.
Deep wounds take a long time to heal, but my love for this Giant Monstera will last forever. Pretty soon I’ll need taller poles and more support because he’s growing and thriving under my care.
Love hurts, but isn’t he gorgeous? My monster(a), my soulmate.
Update on my injury: Stitches came out yesterday (after two weeks) but were replaced by a dozen Steri-strips to help the eight-inch gash finish healing, which it is, but at a snail's pace, probably because I'm not a very patient patient. I'm a much better caregiver. The recommendation was no strenuous activity for at least two more weeks or it'll open up again and I'll need more stitches and the doc threatened me with an aircast to immobilize my leg. "Threatened" might be a SLIGHT exaggeration, but that's how I interpreted her words...
Some people might think a solitary swing is the epitome of loneliness; forlorn, swaying empty in the breeze.
Instead, I like to remember this poem by Robert Louis Stevenson and think of the joy it brings to the Angels; well, except when they’re fighting over whose turn it is to swing.
The Swing
How do you like to go up in a swing, Up in the air so blue Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing Ever a child can do!
Up in the air and over the wall, Till I can see so wide, Rivers and trees and cattle and all Over the countryside
Till I look down on the garden green, Down on the roof so brown– Up in the air I go flying again, Up in the air and down!
I was at a free expo a couple months ago and grabbled a package of forget-me-not seeds. I tossed them in a planter and forgot about them until today.
This is their first flowering!
Forget-me-nots symbolize true love, fidelity, and respect. It’s also associated with Alzheimer’s disease, and has (weirdly) been adopted as a symbol by the Freemasons.
Germans coined the most common name used for this flower, das Vergissmeinnicht, because of the myth of two lovers who first saw the bright blue flowers as they walked along the Danube River. The man retrieved the flowers for the woman but was swept away by the river. As he floated away, he told her not to forget him.
Whether the story is true or not, it’s certainly made the forget-me-not a lasting symbol of remembrance.
Myosotis sylvatica readily reseeds, so I’m hoping to grow more and more in the garden because the blue is so valiantly BLUE and truly unforgettable.
I’ve always had red and pink zygocacti, and for some reason, mine bud and bloom several times a year, whether they’re labeled Thanksgiving/Christmas/Easter cactus.
I’ve been seeing other, amazing colors of these flowering succulents. I couldn’t resist this white Schlumbergera that I found at Trader Joe’s for about five dollars. This is her very first flower. Check out the magenta stamen. It’s absolutely stunning. The Chanel-inspired pot was a Daiso treasure.
I’m in LOVE. I can’t wait until all the other buds open.
Do you see that double bud? It’s ridiculously easy to make me happy.
I spent the day in the gardens, front and back. Neighbors dropped by to chat and comment on our beautiful weather in anticipation of much needed rain.
One neighbor recently got a sweet Golden Retriever that spent too many years at a disgusting Amish puppy mill and is now living her best life. A few minutes later, a young couple walked by with a newborn, their first. Kids rode by on their bikes and e-bikes on their way to play tennis at the park.
It was a wonderful, happy, Southern California kind of day, and I got a lot of work done, filling up three yard waste cans.
Even the butterflies seemed to be more active than usual, perhaps trying to sip as much nectar as possible before the rain or a southerly migration. I tried to snap some pics but they absolutely wouldn’t stay still long enough!
It made me think of that really old song, Elusive Butterfly. It’s beautiful, sad, poignant, even melancholy, but there I was, chasing that elusive butterfly — I could so relate.
Imagine how happy I was to learn that my fave Leon Russell played piano on this song, along with Henry Diltz (Banjo), Carol Kaye (Bass), and Hal Blaine (Drums). I had no idea!
Here’s previous butterfly photos, and these guys knew how to properly model.
I’m still obsessed with the lyrics of Elusive Butterfly
You might wake up some mornin’ To the sound of something moving past your window in the wind And if you’re quick enough to rise You’ll catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s fading shadow Out on the new horizon You may see the floating motion of a distant pair of wings And if the sleep has left your ears You might hear footsteps running through an open meadow
Don’t be concerned, it will not harm you It’s only me pursuing somethin’ I’m not sure of Across my dreams with nets of wonder I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
You might have heard my footsteps Echo softly in the distance through the canyons of your mind I might have even called your name As I ran searching after something to believe in You might have seen me runnin’ Through the long-abandoned ruins of the dreams you left behind If you remember something there That glided past you followed close by heavy breathin’
Don’t be concerned, it will not harm you It’s only me pursuing somethin’ I’m not sure of Across my dreams with nets of wonder I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
Across my dreams with nets of wonder I chase the bright elusive butterfly of love
Enchanted Seashells | Princess Rosebud 