The season is a strange one this year on many levels. The tomatoes are late and not very prolific, but the ones I have managed to coax into existence are quite delicious. Sweet, juicy, and zingy, the little red orbs hang like jewels from the dying branches. They shout their tiny victory over the weather
The bounty from one's own garden is so much sweeter than from anywhere else. Today the nectarines called to me as I wandered in the back yard, and although it is not a large harvest, they are quite delicious. I've watched them from my kitchen window these last few months, growing from tiny, hard, green
Wild Fennel grows taller than me in my backyard. It's brilliant yellow flowers and green stalks stand proudly, reaching for the sky, and it release a wonderful liquorice fragrance when you brush against it.
My morning walk takes me past a neighbouring magnolia. This morning I noticed the first few flowers had opened, the tree appearing as though it had been splashed with pink paint. It will be a daily joy over the coming weeks to watch the buds unfurl in all their colourful glory.
There's something so incredibly satisfying about ripping little plants out by their roots. My front yard has been a weedy mess due to neglect for a while, but since the rains have arrived I've been out there quietly ripping, yanking and pulling those weeds out with a vengeance. My muscles are sore, partly from pulling