Last spring this time, I was waiting for my offer on a house to be accepted. And waiting. In the meantime, the garden went through the springtime without me. That means that this year, every week brings a new surprise. Like the view off my deck, green all winter and now scattered with various colors of leptospermum:
Then, the warmth and late rains transformed a weedy hillside along the drive into a field of wildflowers, delicate and unexpected:
Just yesterday, I saw the first of the trumpet vine flowers open, way up high. Those I have seen, blooming well into the summer and turning the oak tree into a brilliant red canopy. I’ll show you a picture of that as summer comes along.
This garden works the way I as a writer put together stories, as I pursue unanticipated events and find myself surprised by the shapes and colors. I can’t wait to see what the garden has to show me next.