At some point, when I wasn't looking, everything in the front garden yelled ONE! TWO! THREE! GO! and grew 20 ft.
So, today, lovely day that it was, was spent hacking through the jungle (and shuffling children to rehearsals and to friends' houses...the usual).
The star jasmine is just beginning to bloom (and climbing in nefarious ways into the camellias and up the side of the house). The bougainvillea has run riot again, sending huge shoots up all over (with inch-long thorns, all the better to stab you with, my dear), heavy with lilac & white blossoms. While making it presentable, I stepped into the rosemary, and reeked in a very herbal way for the remainder of the afternoon.
The lavender is attempting to take over the entire border. It is winning.
I trimmed up the butterfly bush. Black Knight. It's a difficult plant, but it attracts western swallowtails, painted ladies, and hummingbirds. I find the most interesting things in it, once a particularly beautiful spider that sadly preys on butterflies and moths, camouflaging itself in shades of white and deep purple while it waits on the flowers.
The first set of babies has hatched over the flood light. I can see three little yellow beaks, no more, and I've not gotten a good look at mom, so I don't even know what they are.
Two of the camellias, both pink japonicas, planted by a previous owner in rotten spots, had grown over the windows. I always hesitate to prune them so hard, but I do, and it never hurts them. They need to be transplanted.
The entire disastrous landscape needs to be pulled out. But I have to remodel the other half of the house first.
I'll think about that tomorrow. At the moment, I'm not in the mood for architects and contractors and permits.
The weather in Phoenix was lovely, too, surprisingly. I almost cancelled that trip. My brother wasn't able to meet me there as we'd planned, and I was leery of going alone again. But I know that each trip has its own rewards, each show its own perfect moments and this was no exception; the perfect moments abounded, and I still smile looking back on them, grateful that I made the effort.
I'm looking at the calendar and the next six weeks are enough to induce complete panic. Random notes are scattered in the margin ("Transportation to Dover," "Hotel rooms for graduation," "Pick up mother at SNA," "Chaperone field trip"), and I keep an eye to the days where I will escape. And I continue to look ahead. By mid-August, things will have settled a bit, and I can give further consideration to the question I've been pondering, "What next?"
There's so much I've already done, so much I haven't yet done. So, what next?
Go listen to some good music: "Someone, Somewhere in Summertime" from the album Glittering Prize by Simple Minds.