WITH ROSE AND MICK IN THE GARDEN...

Mick sits quietly; and I sit quietly, just as we often sat together quietly with Bob on our front porch on the summer days when Bob was still among us. 

Watching the gardens grow? Of course. But we see other things as well. 

YESTERDAY, for instance, Mick watched from the porch in early morning as I dead-headed fading blooms on four mature knock-out rose bushes, to clear the way for the buds to have a chance to grow and show their stuff. Afterward, the buds seemed so small and tightly furled, I had little hope I'd see the new blooms for awhile. 

That afternoon, the much needed rains began, and I went out to lunch. When I returned much later--WOW! All four shrubs were filled with vivid, fancy blooms---eye-popping; spectacular! I knew the gardens had been very thirsty, but I hadn't guessed they could revive so quickly and completely. Just add the water of one summer rain! An ode to joy!

TODAY IT'S our little wren who stops to hop and poke along the ground around and underneath the shrubs and flowers. Mick and I sit motionless and watch that little wren re-discovering my largest stepping stone. Until now, I hadn't noticed the generous hollow on the surface of that stone, nor had I seen the water gathered there. But Mr Wren! What fun to watch a tiny pool accommodate that tiny bird who now indulges in quite an energetic bath there. His private spa; he takes his time; our prying eyes are no concern to him!

THEN A TINY hummingbird arrives, an offspring of the full-sized hummer usually seen at dinner in our gardens. Like a hungry baby, he vigorously suckles nectar from the very tiny purple flowers I have barely noticed up and down along the spears that grow out of the lamb's-ear plants.
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AND THEN our resident dragonfly descends, acing his usual perfect landing atop the tall, thick bamboo stick I have put there just for him. Most afternoons he shows up for Siesta... (and I think, as well, to re-assert his proper ownership).

If all this seems insignificant, maybe that is what we like about it.  

The small and quiet things in life and all around us...

STARTING TUESDAY...

  
Out the door walk Rose and Big Dog Mick into the pre-dawn darkness, and in the mild morning we can hear the critters of all sizes scurrying to escape our feet. 
  Bird song is beginning slowly, like wake-up breakfast conversation, and the sky begins to let a little daylight in, and then a little more...
  The sky, we see, is higher than it was at this time yesterday, and its milky color might turn blue at sunrise; or it might turn out to be a sheer cloud cover that portends the later rains. The walks are dry, at least for now...
  When our walk is over, Mick and I return into our cozy little windowed library, and we watch the colors re-appear a little at a time into the day outside... 
  So green the trees; and dewy-wet the grasses dotted with the white of clover we allow to mix in with the lawns; and over by the little garden house that shelters all my garden gear, my mother's oldest tiger lilies, saved from many years ago, are introducing orange into the picture...
  In gardens closer to the house, increasing daylight reveals colors of the purple cone flowers; the bright begonias; the roses and impatiens and the morning glories...
  Mick falls back to sleep on the softness of the bright rug underneath my feet; he is content; and I begin my second cup of coffee.
  Good morning to you all!