In which two olds and and a doglet take a walk. The olds see things and talk. The doglet sees badly, like the rest of dogdom, but has a nose like we can only dream of Doglet sniffs and smells as she walks, trots, and snuffles about in the leaves.
We left the house.
The lone red tulip said, “Seeya!”.
A few years ago I bought three tiny pots of moribund moss phlox which was on sale dirt cheap because they were as good as dead. I stuck them into the crack in the top of a stone retaining wall. They lived. They’re thriving.
For the last few weeks we’ve been looking to see if the ladyslipper orchids were up.
Today we found them. They’re unsheathing their buds.
The stems bend and rise….
Soon the pink flowers will swell and burst forth.
Farther down the path is a home of twig and branch.
We suspect it’s a neighbor boy’s.
Weeks of humidity and fog have made the moss lushly happy.
We saw a stonefish, getting ready to eat a brick.
Doglet, having been mentioned, must be shown…
This tiny ribbon of water actually has a name!
We cross the creek and head home.
At home there is another opening delight.
The tree peony, planted ten years or so ago, has reached waist height.
And has buds of hot color.
Twenty-two minutes have gone by.
Writing this post took just about twenty-two minutes, too.