Tuesday

It is about as normal a week as you can come up with these days. Routines are with us again. And I like that! The interplay of chaos and the ordinary is a good thing and it's quite pleasant to switch into a steady pace. For a while, anyway. You don't want to get complacent, or grow dull through endless repetition of the same. (Of course, the balance has to shift over time: chaos or even grand adventures become less desirable as you pass a certain age -- not sure which age, but something tells me I'm not awfully far from it!)

We have a stream of good summer weather before us: pleasantly cool in the morning, with plenty of sunshine throughout the day. The lilies will definitely rejoice!

Not that they have been completely silent. I picked off nearly 300 spent blooms from all the beds this morning, mostly from the yellow girls. They're nestled in all corners of the flower fields and they have been really blooming up a storm for a while now.






It wasn't totally pleasant work because the mosquito population is rapidly growing. It's five weeks delayed as compared to last year, but in the morning, among dew soaked foliage, they are now buzzing away.






I was up early of course because of the cats. Here are three out of the six youngest ones, hovering near Stop Sign.






All one family, all getting along right now. All needing to be neutered soon! (The task of doing this is daunting: tell me, how do you trap cats and not terrify the rest? And how do you do this when the cheepers are endlessly trying to get to the cat food?)

I go back to gardening thoughts -- enjoying the rhythm of my work outside, delighting in the slow but steady appearance of some of my very favorite day lilies: I love the ones that have many hues, gently moving between one and the next, like these Francis Joiner ones:






Breakfast is wonderful. If you were to ask me which moment of the day is the calmest, I'd say this one, right here.







Later, stepping out into the sunny path, I can only think how gorgeous gardens are right about now.






After a three week break, Snowdrop is back in school, overjoyed to see her class friend again. I pick her up, she grins broadly and announces to anyone who will listen -- my grandma's here for me!











(the devotion to drawing does not stop, thank goodness!)






Evening: the fireflies are tremendous! I go out for just a little bit. (The mosquitoes are also tremendous.) Dance comes out of the garage meowing, wanting something that I cannot understand. The other cats? Gone. Up and left. For how long? Perhaps two hours, perhaps two days.

A normal week. Predictable, yet never fully so.