Blooming Tucson

 Ocotillo usually bloom when it rains.

  It hasn't rained, yet the blooms are gorgeous all over town.

They are usually smaller and pointier.  Fast Eddie and JannyLou and I were admiring them this morning, agreeing that they've never been lovelier. 

On the side of the house, the aloe are sprouting tall orange spiky booms.

The Euphorbia AntiSyphilitica have their small white flowers weighting them down.

Even the succulent I transplanted without recognizing that it was ready to sprout a tall spiky yellow addition managed to endure the afternoon sunlight and lack of proper irrigation and put on a show.

You have to be hardy to survive in the desert. 

Just look at that tiny little bit of blue, appearing with no assistance from anything human.  She makes me smile. 

This yucca was rescued from the discard pile at the middle school; he and his friends were free for the taking.  

Also left pretty much on his own (although planted in a swale when it was much cooler and wetter)  this fellow sent a bright yellow flower up to greet me one morning.

And then there are those who don't survive.  We cherish them, too.  These ribs were once holding up a giant saguaro.  Now they are decorations, and sometimes, home to small creatures.

There are bigger and brighter flowers, too.  Some I planted and irrigated and fertilized and staked, nurturing them with care.

Others, once established, exist on what Mother Earth provides.  They do just fine.

It's a nice mix for me.  A few plants to prune and deadhead and otherwise tend, while most of them put on their show for free.

(Dated Joni Mitchell reference, anyone?)

And then, as every spring, there are the babies.

Attached to mama, 

or sending long photo-tropic shoots out toward the sunshine, 

some proudly reveal their parentage.

Others spring from bulbs planted long ago, re-emerging and surprising me every year.   

And some unfurl from tiny buds through fragrant white flowers into rose hips which, some year, I will harvest and use. 

As every gardener knows, there is always more to do, something new to learn.

But, for now, I'm going to sit back and enjoy the results of my labors.