How often do you actually sit and enjoy your garden? If you're like me, not often enough. On Sunday, Nigel and I actually got our Kindles and sat out in the back garden for a couple of hours, after having done exactly that same thing just the night before, on Saturday. We only came in on Saturday evening because it was getting too dark to read.
For a good part of the morning, our east-facing back garden is very pleasantly shady, because of the very tall Douglas firs which block the rising sun.
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The view from my lounge chair, across our circle of grass to the bed with the huge patch of Monarda 'Raspberry Wine.' |
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A closer look |
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When I turn to my left, I see this bed (and Nigel's slippered foot) |
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A closer look |
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So far to the left it's almost behind us -- the waterfall that is the start of our stream |
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And very far to my right -- a mostly shade bed that gets just this little bit of sun early in the morning |
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Not too far above my head is a bird feeder, hanging on a corner of the back porch |
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A chickadee waits its turn |
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"Hey, I think you've had enough!" |
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The Douglas firs that block the sun |
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The birds flit back and forth from the bird feeder to the large filbert on the left |
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Magellan saw us through the window and cried to be let out |
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Contented cat on my lap |
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"Where did all those birds go?" |
Hopefully you didn't look too closely at those closeups of the beds surrounding us. They've rebounded somewhat from the heat and lack of water that they suffered through back in July, but they definitely need me to get out there to do some trimming and cutting back.
But not on Sunday morning.