Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A slow dance of gratitude and wonder for rain

An exciting radar shot
We haven't gotten a lot of rain. That is why the changes made in our dry and dusty landscape are so dramatic. To the casual eye, not much might appear to be different, but to those of us (and that is most of the people who live here) we become wide-eyed and smiling at the little shoots, new buds, the sheerest overcover of the palest green on the hillsides.

I have mourned over old plant friends in my yard that gave up trying and am moving on to the oh-so-much that remains. I'm pretty sure I can steal obtain some cactus to replace the gone ones. There is even have a new, ungrafted and useless, but pretty, avocado tree about a foot along, to plant somewhere around here. A twig snapped off on a walkabout, from a tree with intense orange flowers I've never seen, actually has some rootlets and a new leaf; incredible surprise. The clipped top of a tomato plant that was getting too leggy has rooted as well. Life on the small scale. Well, yes.

These are some not-quite-before shots...the sea almonds more naked than I've ever seen them. My yard is about as close to sea level as it's possible to get and not be the beach, so anything that survives growing in the shallow ground is damn hardy. The roots can't go too deep or they hit salt water. Too shallow and not enough nutrients and moisture. There are a lot of roots showing around here to teach me lessons about what is possible in the seemingly ridiculous work of learning to thrive without much. It's a good yard, even mostly naked, but I'm happily looking forward to seeing everyone dressed and primped again. Shoot by leaf, bloom by blossom. Oh joy!

Neem tree

Sea almond tree

Mock frangipani (the blossoms have no fragrance)

Rain is falling as I type. Oh boy!!! Invisible beautiful is happening faster now.
Have a Wednesday of wonder. Do something willingly.

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