It doesn't take long for a garden to change. I was away three days and on my return the flowers bordering the patio and the front of the house had blossomed like fireworks.
The geraniums sported huge scarlet flowers...
and the phlox, with their musky scent, were spots of hot pink against the lush green of the giant Rudbeckia Nitida 'Herbstsonne' whose absurdly small yellow flowers are just forming.
The front garden is a watercolor wash of pinks. The fairy roses are the soft pink of a new baby's skin, the bee balm is closer to magenta. The weeds grew as as fast as the flowers, making hours on my knees a necessity.
The vegetable garden has been tidied as well. There are some stray pole beans amid the bush variety so I've constructed tepees of tree branches to give them a place to climb. The cucumbers are reaching for the fence with which I've surrounded them. The tomato plants are reaching for the sky. I noticed dozens of fruit hiding amongst the leaves.
It is good to be home again, to wake in the morning to a wash of warm gold over my feet as I sit on the patio sipping my first cup of tea. I like to watch the day hatch itself from the egg-blue sky, to hear the bird chorus sing up the sun, to smell the fresh watermelon scent of newly mowed grass and the rich brown smell of tilled earth.
In the afternoon, when the work is done and the sun slants through the screened tent, I stretch out on the outdoor swing and marvel at the beauty all around me. A nap is as restorative as the Yoga I've now undertaken. So is the thankfulness I feel for the riches I enjoy every day.