If it is anywhere near as dry there, as it is here, then “not so well” is the answer to the question, “How does your garden grow?” This weekend’s contra-summer weather, read comfortable, continued into Sunday morning. Anne and I eschewed our usual Sunday pursuit, worshipping at the church of the spoken wheel and strode out arm-in-arm to toil in the Elysian Fields that is my mythic representation that what in reality our postage stamp of a yard is.
We mowed, trimmed, weeded; pruned, hacked and pretty much beat our already prostrate yard into helpless submission. At one point, Anne proposed dead-heading the front yard’s coneflowers. This struck me as odd. First, it is my last name that is synonymous with an implement of vegetative mutilation. Second, there are ‘weeds’ in our yard that Anne has placed under protected status. Finally, I’ve never heard of dead-heading coneflowers. This restraint was later rewarded. The photo above shows a pair of goldfinches picking seeds off our coneflower’s heads.
It sprinkled in the afternoon, a lazy summer Sunday afternoon. These few drops were enough to dissuade us from going cycling. “I’m melting! Melting! Oh, what a world! What a world!” Anyway, Anne went to the yarn shop and I wrote this post. Oh, what a world! What a world! 😉