Winter in The Garden - February, 2012

Nine-fingered typing is only marginally better than trying to operate a new phs-camera without a right index finger.  Yesterday's post was filled with mis-stricken letters, the responsibility for which rests solely on my four-digit-ed larboard side. Worse, my fingers guide my brain here in The Burrow; when one is stuttering the other follows in lock-step.

Hence, a garden post.  We haven't had one in a while, I know.  I am moving forward on an upward trajectory, even if I do have to hire someone to do the heavy lifting and bending and digging.  I'll admire the results as I tend to that which I can, and I'll be grateful for it each and every day.

Smarmy?  Perhaps.  It's also very very real to me.  The plants speak to me of hopefulness and renewal and some kind of master plan which comforts me in the inevitability of it all.  Plus, I like to laugh at myself and the promises I've made to myself in seasons past.  For example, I remember saying that I was going to give up on color entirely and go with succulents in pots.  

You can see how long that resolution lasted.

The butterfly bush (must remember to ask Rillito for the botanica) is delighting me under my window as I type.

The Heavenly Bamboo (Nandina) retains its winter red.

This Old Man of the Andes is taking a permanent siesta on his neighbor.

This is a testament to the right plant in the right place.  

It's sending baby sprouts east and west.

Look at how juicy the inside is.

Proving that a weed is merely a plant in the wrong place, these natives (not weeds) have formed a natural fence against the deciduous vinca.

The bunnies can't get to these native grasses which are happy to share the irrigation on the mesquite tree.

There's a teeny tiny 3" in diameter nest in the palo verde out in front.

And one with bean sculpture on the neighboring branch.

Think of me when you are shoveling or slipping or bundling up.
I love February in the desert.