I'm green.
Not as in environmentally, though I'm working on that.
Green, as in envious. Drooling over the gardens in the neighborhood.
Planning for next year already.
I can not live another year without Montmorency cherries, almost translucent, lovely for pies.
A birdhouse with hollyhocks strategically placed.
So British-looking. Chic, almost. Perhaps one of those apartment styles, high on its pole.
I must paint the hen house red. And look how smart Scarlett was to place an apple tree right next to it, where the blush on the ripening apples would pick up hints of the same barn red.
And her pole beans~ why didn't I think of that? (Scribbling notes I'll probably lose over the winter...)
But our garden does boast delights of its own, and if you studiously ignore the weeds, there's lavendar...
hydrangeas of many hues...
Shasta daisies to remind me of Grandaddy,
... and a bumper crop of berries, enough kinds to keep us picking all summer long.
I feel a picnic coming on! Such fun to be a gardener in the summertime.
