It isn't about being afraid in a thunderstorm
It's about learning to dance in the rain

A Poem , Hayes

FAIR is each budding thing the garden shows,
From spring’s frail crocus to the latest bloom
Of fading autumn. Every wind that blows
Across that glowing tract sips rare perfume
From all the tangled blossoms tossing there;—
Soft winds, they fain would linger long, nor any farther fare.
The morning-glories ripple o’er the hedge
And fleck its greenness with their tinted foam;
Sweet wilding things, up to the garden’s edge
They love to wander from their meadow home,
To take what little pleasure here they may
Ere all their silken trumpets close before the warm midday.
The larkspur lifts on high its azure spires,
And up the arbor’s lattices are rolled
The quaint nasturtium’s many-colored fires;
The tall carnation’s breast of faded gold
Is striped with many a faintly-flushing streak,
Pale as the tender tints that blush upon a baby’s cheek.
The old sweet-rocket sheds its fine perfumes;
With golden stars the coreopsis flames;
And here are scores of sweet old-fashioned blooms
Dear for the very fragrance of their names,—
Poppies and gillyflowers and four-o’clocks,
Cowslips and candytuft and heliotrope and hollyhocks,
Harebells and peonies and dragon-head,
Petunias, scarlet sage, and bergamot,
Verbenas, ragged-robins, soft gold-thread,
The bright primrose and pale forget-me-not,
Wall-flowers and crocuses and columbines,
Narcissus, asters, hyacinths, and honeysuckle vines,
Foxgloves and marigolds and mignonette,
Dahlias and lavender and damask rose.
O dear old flowers, ye are blooming yet,—
Each year afresh your lovely radiance glows:
But where are they who saw your beauty’s dawn?
Ah, with the flowers of other years they long ago have gone!
They long have gone, but ye are still as fair
As when the brides of eighty years ago
Plucked your soft roses for their waving hair,
And blossoms o’er their bridal-veils to strow.
Alas, your myrtle on a later day
Marked those low mounds where  'neath the willows’ shade at last they lay!
Beside the walk the drowsy poppies sway,
More deep of hue than is the reddest rose,
And dreamy-warm as summer’s midmost day:
Proud, languorous queens of slumberous repose—
Within their little chalices they keep
The mystic witchery that brings mild, purple-lidded sleep.
Drowse on, soft flowers of quiet afternoons,—
The breezes sleep beneath your lulling spell;
In dreamy silence all the garden swoons,
Save where the lily’s aromatic bell
Is murmurous with one low-humming bee,
As oozy honey-drops are pilfered by that filcher wee.
And now is gone the dreamy afternoon,—
The sun has sunk below yon western height;
The pallid silver of the harvest-moon
Floods all the garden with its soft, weird light.
The flowers long since have told their dewy beads,
And naught is heard except the frogs’ small choir in distant meads.

Bridge to terabithia - Someday

Gardening: Pruning : How to Prune Grapes

I've been busy

with the gardens.  I have a wonderful veggie garden with the best tomatoes I've ever grown.  I've saved rhubarb in the freezer for winter.  I've had several meals with my homegrown peas and beans.  My little pumpkins are starting to blossom and the birds eat the morning glories and sunflowers as fast as they grow.  Or maybe it's the chippies, squirrels and rabbits.  I got my monthly gift today.  It's a little baby angel in angel wings and I put it in the tea garden, very cute.  I trimmed back some of the wild branches in the back yard and I think maybe the hostas will bloom this year.  I'm pleased that my Concord grapes are coming along as they should.  All my Dogwoods are beautiful this year and putting on quite a show with the blossoms and berries.  Here are a few pictures too.
Now I have to get busy in the house again.  I need to sand half the dining room floor and re finish it...again.  I've taken to just throwing stuff into garbage bags and throwing it out on garbage day.  Maybe someday someone will find it all in an old landfill.

This is my sweet Owen and this year he LOVES to come down those two huge slides.  Last week he decided he could also go down the covered one that's dark....he told me he even kept his eyes open all the way down.  You can't imagine how much I love that boy.  He reads books to me now...he calls them chapter books and he's only in kindergarten.  I hope he never loses his curiosity for life.

Hali....that's a long A, pronounced Hailee...she is like a fish in the water.  Always laughing and happy...except when she pretends to cry to get her own way.  A typical girly girl....unless she's playing football or soccer, then she's a little toughy.  She is sweet and soft and always considerate...a darling girl that's fun to hug.

This is my monthly gift.  It's so cute in the tea garden and a remembrance of things past.

These last three are the Yellow Lily in my South Sun garden, one of my favorites.
Some old standbys from the back garden
The flowers and leaves that are growing on the garage.  I believe the flowers are Clematis but not sure what kind.