Of flowers and pigs
Here are the flowers inside.
And another view.
And yet another.
Yup. Before we even get out the door to my garden, it's a veritable riot of flowers.
The nice thing about having a birthday in May is that even if no one were to send you flowers, you've got flowers. As I was surveying my garden this evening to see what yet has to be done (a LOT of weeding yet to go, mulch not yet down, edging, annuals, etc., etc.) it had just rained lightly, and everything looked so beautiful. I am continually surprised and delighted by my garden.
Irises are among my favorite flowers. They looked so pretty covered with rain drops as the sun came out again.
They make such a dramatic statement, don't they?
This year, these little white star flowers have come up in the most amazingly perfect places, kneeling around the bases of stumps, peeking through other ground cover, and popping out among the hostas.
I don't know if they were intentionally planted, or if they are wildflowers. I didn't get here until August in 2005, but I didn't see these little flowers last year or the year before. They're just here this year, little white stealth stars. I like them. Maybe I ought to buy myself a field guide to wildflowers, eh?
And ye, verily, on the seed packet it said that in the third year, the clematis would learn to climb, and fulfill your expectations. Three years ago, I planted these from seed. The first year, I thought they'd died. The second year, I was thrilled to see them come back, and over the moon when they each put out a couple of blossoms. And now, in their third year, behold the promise!
Aren't they pretty? And doesn't the arbor gate need a coat of paint? I hear ya. I'll get to it, but now it's got to wait till fall.
And because every garden needs a pig, my friend Cindy (Hi, Cin! The least you can do is comment now that I've mentioned you!) bought me this little guy at a barn sale at which we'd stopped a couple of Saturdays ago. He's very cute, and has a charming little curly tail. He's proven to be the perfect companion for my little metal garden crow. (And just look at that creeping sedum creep, would you?)