I’ll miss the hot hot hotness
It makes the summer go slower. What I love more than anything these late afternoons is coming home—especially on a Friday!!—pouring a glass of white or opening a beer for myself, choosing a red for my husband and sitting together on the patio, listening to the incredibly loud cicadas and watching bees (and sometimes) butterflies buzz around the verbena boniarensis. (Unfortunately I can’t photograph the verbena—it always looks like a big mess.)
Garden work is not really done during these interludes, except for some languid deadheading. Garden Walk is over and things are kind of mellow. Not a lot of color or flowers, but still great foliage and a few late arrivals.
Like this, a hibiscus that is doing much better this year.
Or this, a caladium that I yanked out (or thought I did) but it survived and grew despite my brutish mangling.
The hot hot hotness makes the wine taste better.
Garden work is not really done during these interludes, except for some languid deadheading. Garden Walk is over and things are kind of mellow. Not a lot of color or flowers, but still great foliage and a few late arrivals.
Like this, a hibiscus that is doing much better this year.
Or this, a caladium that I yanked out (or thought I did) but it survived and grew despite my brutish mangling.
The hot hot hotness makes the wine taste better.
Comments