If I were a golfer, I fear there’d be no putting, for my grass is lush and verdant— badly in need of cutting. Meanwhile, the bougainvillea has gotten out of hand. It’s like a barbed wire jungle—every twisted strand. If I were more rambunctious, I’d grab work gloves and scramble to gas up the mower and to tackle every bramble, but those days of industrious gardening are far back in my past. Those Olympian feats of plant and tend simply didn’t last. Instead I lie here in my bed growing and trimming words. Outside, through the curtains, I hear the wakening birds. I hear the front gate opening, make out the squeak of wheels. Is there a single reader who detects how good it feels to just fluff up the pillows and type on throughout the dawn as Pasiano trims the thorny vines and mows the blasted lawn?
They shoulder out my succulents and commandeer my grass. Perky little coins of green, they have a lot of brass. Chinese garlic lifts white heads a bit above the fray. Although they’re uninvited guests, I guess they’re here to stay.
When this new little hibiscus blooms, it will hopefully add some color to this area of the garden. You can barely see it’s spindly little limb sticking up above the citronella, succulents and new bushy red plant. The cactus spine was one we collected in AZ to make a lamp out of before Bob died. It has found a new purpose in this arrangement. The terra cotta cone is the top of a clay sculpture the animals knocked over and broke, now repurposed .
The garden isn’t at its best during the dry season, but I’ve had a request to photograph it, so here it is, with all of its warts. With the exception of the sculpture of the seated woman from the front patio, this is all the back garden. The front garden is a bit of a mess due to all of the debris from the roof repairs. I’ll show it in a later post. The dome of the roof is here pictured as a pale gray as it is currently being repaired but will eventually be restored to its rose color. Please click on first photo to enlarge all and view as a slide series.