If you have paid any attention to me since I started this blog, you’ve probably come to the conclusion that I hate to be hot, and you would be correct. Warm weather’s most redeeming quality is its production of pretty and tasty plants.
I sit on my porch, shaded from the sun. Warm breezes swirl around me. I close my eyes and listen to the wind through the trees. I open my eyes and watch the birds and squirrels frolicking, squawking, eating. My neighbor’s enormous lilac bushes and our peonies combine to permeate the air with the sticky sweet smell of Summer on its way.
Cottonwood seeds, or summer snow, falls from the sky.
The grass, the entire landscape, can only be described as verdant.
I was describing our soil to a Georgia friend the other day, since she noticed all the grass, and even better, no clay. Our soil here is Miami soil, natural loam. After years of sand and clay, it feels so good to slide a spade into that dark, rich soil. It smells fantastic. I talk to the worms, carrying them to my new divisions, “You’ll like it better over here. Plenty to do.”
I can only say how honored I am to live here.
You never know what you have until it’s gone. How lucky am I to get it back?