Apparently, my phone can take panoramic pictures.
This allows me to show off my bluebells. These are not weeds, TBG's protests to the contrary. A weed is a plant in the wrong place. These, while not intentional, are not weeds. These babies have seed packets you can buy in the store. Fortunately for my garden spending, my bluebells were naturally seeded by the members of the animal kingdom who pollinate and defecate in my yard.
The yellow flowers are brittle bush, and are also volunteers, deposited not always where I'd choose but appreciated none the less.
I replanted the not-hanging-but-standing-on-a-post basket with the remains of other failed containers. I examined the sticky little bugs I found attached to and crawling on an irrigation nozzle; I'll bag it and take it in to the master gardeners tomorrow for diagnosis and treatment. I cleaned off the pretty metal rack that holds the I-can-live-outdoors tools and swept the potting shed floor clean.
Tomorrow, if the weather holds, I'll plant the roses in the front and ask Mr. 21 to come over and dig me a hole for the rose tree in the back. I tried to dig it myself; I gave up almost immediately.
I may even finish the cacti-and-succulents-in-pots situation I'm trying to create at our front door. I've had the tools and the soil out there for months, without the urge to complete the job. But it's been high in the upper 60's and sunny here and these are them weeks we cherish. I can be outside and do whatever I want to do at any time of the day, wearing shorts and a long sleeve shirt to protect my arms from the sun and the prickers as I clip and dig and get soil under my still perfect manicure.
We've had a lot of visitors, sharing the bounty. Look who showed up this morning.
Your cool is our warm this week, and lots of gardening has been accomplished here.
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