For all my minimalist tendencies, I do get carried away when it comes to fresh flowers in the house in summer.
Read MoreWe’d hiked up the foothill slope, between the gap in the rock rim, and down the back sway into the grassy bottom of the small valley that hugged the mountainside. It was evening. It was summer.
Read MoreBack to pencil and paper. Back to revisions. Back to another early morning, sitting on the sofa with a cup of tea, looking out toward my garden space, reimagining.
Read MoreSince mid July, there’s been wave upon wave of brilliant orange and red. The poppies just won’t stop.
Read MoreSince early spring, I’ve been wanting to show you this. How the wild violas have found a place between the flagstones on the terrace.
Read MoreIt’s just beginning to lighten into a cloud-covered, gently snowing day. I’m watching a small bunch of deer playfully skitter
Read MoreSpring’s eyelids are beginning to flutter in her sleep. Just over two weeks from now, the calendar says she’ll arrive
Read MoreThere would be Tansy, Queen Anne’s Lace, and fern of some kind. Beyond that, the wildflower market in northern Idaho would surprise me when I arrived.
Read MoreSunday, I planted seeds. There, beside the creek (in which Nellie was wading, wading, wading) I spread out the seed packets, bags of starter mix, seed trays, and the handful of wooden markers I’d found in my potting bench drawer.
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