can photos tell a story?

There is no other way to fit all that must be done today: I have to be up at six, so that I can give the garden the attention it craves. Or, that I imagine that it craves.

On the upside, sunrise is still very early and so I have a lovely morning to do the work of trimming the day lilies against the subtly sweet backdrop of morning light.

If I thought yesterday's trim was a record setter -- I was wrong. Today, I snipped off 745 spent blooms.

Someone asked me -- why do I give myself so much work? Perennial gardening isn't supposed to be so labor intensive. To me, it's a question of visual pleasure: nothing will happen if I leave the spent blooms drooping from the stalks. Eventually they'll fall off of their own accord. But in my view, the garden looks infinitely more beautiful when it is trimmed and tended with some regularity.

As to the cultivation of daylilies -- are they more trouble than they're worth? No! Each bloom is gorgeous...






... and when viewed together, they are extraordinary!






And so I snip away, my hands purple from the juices of some, snip snip, until I pronounce all the beds in the garden ready for the day.





Because it's an unusually full day (I know, I've had several weeks, or is it months of those!), I'll rest my pen so to speak and let the photos tell their own story, with explanations only as needed.

(first to greet me as I step outside)






(one flower bed against the background of another)






(breakfast)






(this view, from our porch, is perhaps my favorite view from any window anywhere: it's one huge wave of flowers)






(errands with my mom)






(Snowdrop, at the farmhouse, after school)






She and I play pretend nonstop, for three hours; we cycle through shopping, apartment life, art class, family, school group time, zookeeper's life, and life guard at pool, to give you an example of our range.

(shopping; and yes, I trimmed her bangs)






(school group time)






(I have to stop our games now; I'm fixing dinner for mom, Snowdrop, Ed and myself -- dad is away for work. Snowdrop finds out that cleaning fresh corn is not that easy.)






(mother and younger child)






(it was supposed to be a stormy rainy eve; instead, it was a beautiful eve)







(Pandering to Snowdrop: couscous with roasted pine nuts, chicken with red peppers, a salad of small tomatoes, and freshly picked corn on the cob. She loves all the above.)






(with berry and chocolate macarons for dessert; I take no credit for making those)






(the final photo needs no further explanation, right?)






Fireflies flicker, Ed prepares for his forthcoming sailing trip, I put my feet up and exhale.