Many, O Lord my God, are thy wonderful works which thou hast done, and thy thoughts which are to us-ward: they cannot be reckoned up in order unto thee: if I would declare and speak of them, they are more than can be numbered. Psalm 40:5 KJV
The clover field behind the house. Time to make hay.
The iris have peaked and will soon be memories.
We used to call these flowers "flags." Anyone
else remember that?
The peonies always show up in time for Memorial Day.
The blooms are short-lived but magnificent. Excellent
as cut flowers, too. A vase on the table brings loveliness
into the house.
I had never heard these beauties called "pineys" until I
moved to Indiana. Say what?
The variegated dogwood is old now. Lots of deadwood
had to be removed from the center and some serious
lopping for control. Perhaps it will live a few
more seasons.
Kent and his mother admire the weigela which with
the hostas provide interest on the north side of the house.
Flora alone do not provide all the loveliness in
the yard. I captured this lovely animal while
working in the garden. It crawled inside my shirt
sleeve. Couldn't find it, thought perhaps it
had deserted me. But no, after a bit I felt it
crawling atop my right ear.
The creature was returned to its habitat after
the photo session.
10 comments:
I love the garden this time of year...so neat and tidy, no weeds just yet. The plants are small, compact and there are no dead leaves or blossoms to pinch off. I wish it would stay like this for the summer.
Lin, I get what you are saying, but to everything a season, even weeding and deadheading.
Again, your yard is beautiful.
Like you, I had never heard of pineys before moving to Indiana, but then I also had never heard "knowed" used as the past tense of know or them exchanged for those and come for came - and the list could go on. But maybe that is just snobbish and the locals are also correct. (We were in Indiana last week and some things never change, including every farm along highway 36 having beautiful peonies growing along whitewashed fences. Nice!)
Vee, Indiana? Where is that at? Right there, where it has always been at. But I am off on my pet peeve.
I guess I need to accept that communication is "correct" if the communicator and the communicatee understand one another. Get my drift? Made-up word and all.
As Dad used to say, "It's behind the at."
Vee, hmm; I respond, "Right in front of the at." Now I wonder. . .
I do remember iris being called "flags." In the small town where I grew up, Mrs Rex was famous for her iris. Developed her own unique strains and had visitors come from faraway--even foreign--places.
Chuck, I should very much like to have seen Mrs. Rex's gardens. Iris are among my favorite flowers. We had thirteen varieties at our Green Street place, and that was just the garden space devoted to iris.
Well, I wouldn't willingly kill that beautiful insect, but I get testy about things inside the shirt. It might have been an inadvertent casualty
Sharkey, hard to imagine that you are in the least bit flappable, yet the image of you flapping your arms in a circumstance such as this is amusing me at the moment.
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