There's a surprising amount of things blooming in my garden -- you'd almost think it was Spring. And speaking of Spring, I even found an abandoned nest the other day, between a window shutter and my porch wall:
This has been another neglectful year for my garden. I'm thinking that my passion for gardening has waned a bit, but I'm okay with that -- it was more of an obsession at its height, and obsessions aren't healthy, so I'm told. But part of me misses the fervor I once held for all things green and blooming. And I'm a bit sad at how many botanical names and how much horticultural information I once had memorized, but have since forgotten. I'm nothing, if not a fickle hobbyist.
Because of this benign neglect, what blooms I do have are just forlorn and lonely representatives of their species. Rather than robust and plentiful displays of color, I have just a spot here or there of pink or blue or purple. But at least there is some kind of color. And what I have this year is far better than the death and destruction from drought I experienced last summer and fall.
So I am grateful for perennials that refuse to die, such as: