I’ve been having a blast with my camera, playing paparazzi on the flowers. So far, I haven’t caught one with its mouth full or wearing a Speedo when it shouldn’t, but one never knows.

Here is a fern with its fiddleheads just starting to unfurl. When they open, they’ll be…you know…ferns. That little plus sign in the middle of the picture is a bluet. Isn’t it sweet? I think it’s sweet.

And here are some wild irises. The blooms are about the size of a golf ball, or maybe a little smaller. They’re a ground cover. I posted a picture of their corms or roots or whatever you call them a few weeks ago. Those looked like some kind of science fiction invasion, but the low-lying greenery and blossoms look like fantasy flowers. Very nice.

Here is our shade garden. As you see, we have an especially fine crop of rusty iron rebar this year, planted in a vain attempt to keep Joe (hiding behind the tree) from wallowing the plants down. We should change his name to Ferdinand, since he loves flowers so much. I’m afraid I must say that a behavior that’s charming in a fictional bull is not so in a real dog–especially when he carries the dirt to the back porch and deposits it thereon.

And here is what he’s done to part of our Lily of the Valley bed. Pretty, isn’t it? NOT!

Finally, here’s a picture of the corkscrew willow Charlie got me for a present one year. It gets nicer and nicer. we have ivy and creeping phlox and crocus and some other kinda thing in this garden. I’ll have more snaps as the flowers come and go, if my lawyer can fight off the restraining order Mother Nature is trying to slap me with.


writing prompt: What would your main character do if he/she were suddenly the focus of rapacious public interest?