On Returning to Eden

Western fence line where we started
the first seeds of Eden.

Ever feel like you're running on empty? So this morning--what with a demon-possessed foster dog; six other quadrupeds mildly neurotic from living with a demon-possessed foster dog, and a sick, stubborn wife--I moved my "office" to The Garden, hoping to find some Focus (Remember Lent? Anyone??). If anyone needs me, I'll be in the backyard, and I just may stay out here until the storms chase me inside.

That was three mornings ago, and on the right is a partial view from my desk. We're still waiting for those storms. The weather people say they may be in some time this evening.

If you ever want to know where Eden is, I suggest you begin by looking in your own backyard. This patch over here, with the rustic pillars and bird feeder and Grandma Cordie's witch's cauldron; we officially christened it EDEN yesterday. This is the first garden we plotted in Brook Village.

Lazlo Turdle amongst the sunflowers
planted by a cardinal couple.

That's Lazlo Turdle, the chi-weenie baby of the household regulars. We were going for the sunflowers there behind him. The birds planted those, and while I might argue their placement choices, I've come to live with them where they are. Some three feet tall now, they have yet to bud. I don't know if they are late or I am  too soon anticipating.

Yet we have one lonely little sunflower hanging out beside the lamp post. He's showing his face already and spends the better part of every day in shade.

Sunflower, also started by the cardinals.

That's another bird placement, as well, left by our pair of resident cardinals. This patch, at the feet of a 20-foot photinia, is being reworked and is little more than a napping spot.

Luke the slumber dog guards shade.

Sunflower, photinia and lamp post share this spot with a rescue tomato, an evening primrose that followed me home and a couple of Texas bluemist flowers moved in from a sister site near the house.


That's my morning and I did not get to the blooming zucchini nor the sprawling Texas bluemist. Oh, well! 

If anyone needs me, I'll be in the backyard.