“I think I took the wrong turn at the water feature.”
It’s June, the month of roses. This rose bush traveled many miles to my garden. The original owner nicknamed it “Attack Rose”. Every time her mother walked near the bush she would get caught in the thorns. I received the bushes’ off-spring—duly christened “Son of Attack Rose”—and he’s living up to his reputation. “Feed me Seymour.”
The poor frog can’t move fast enough. It’s not easy being ornamental.
Early morning rain.
Summer rain brings summer roses. A Gemini ready to burst, its sweet fragrance fills the air.
The arbor surrounding my patio.
Climbing roses intertwine with clematis. They glow in the cloudy gloom of an early morning shower.
There is a common saying in Western Washington (U.S. state not Capital), summer doesn’t arrive until July 5th. We refer to June as June-uary.
Once upon a forested front yard.
A moment in a long ago January when winter arrived with a sugary blanket, coating a sweet winter day. Our snow globe confection melted away to gray.
A rose from my garden.
June, when brilliant-colored roses blossom and chase the summer sky’s gray away.
Many times upon a vacation, many moons ago, I sat for pets. And they sat for me. One of my favorite second jobs.
Kelly, the spaniel, and collies, Lacey (in front) and Angel (in back) model for the camera.
These lovely ladies lived in a cottage on a lake with three cats who would not sit for photos. Imagine that.
We played and chased and rolled in the grass—after I scooped the yard.
I miss their panting laughter.
The sun’s last brush stroke before dusk.
A summer evening drive with my husband. We park on the shore of a lake unknown. The sun dips below the Olympic Mountains. A breeze stirs the lake moving the bugs away. The warm air cooling. Twilight approaches. Hints of cedar and sweet grasses drift through the air with a touch of smoldering barbecue briquettes. Frogs croak with the cricket chorus. The sun kisses the clouds goodnight.
If you have clear skies, I recommend you binge watch a sunset paired with your favorite person(s). 😉
Have a wonderful weekend.
Three simple photos.
Christmas Eve 2006.
Ooh la la, Fish-A-Vision.
Our newly adopted cat, Olivia, discovered the sideboard table we set up for our buffet dinner. Clearly this set up was for her viewing pleasure. Fortunately, clean table cloths waited in the closet for this caught in the act moment.
Mine, Mine, Mine. All mine!
We threw a decoy blanket across the bed while we washed our linens. Our cat, Olivia, slept while her nine-month-old kitten, Ernest, claimed this bed and everything on it in the name of Ernestovia.
Caught in the act.
What the heck? I was sleeping here Junior. Get your own blanket!
Our elder statesman, Wicket, on the left, curled up on a blanket on the sofa. In the middle of his nap, nine-month-old Ernest horned in on the action.
Caught in the act.