Spry little Johnny Jump-Ups re-seed themselves vigorously enough on their own. Last year though, toward the end of their long flowering season, I collected their nearly exploded seed pods, dried them, and then scattered them abundantly throughout the garden in the fall. They're everywhere now; these are only the first couple to bloom.
One measly red tulip (there are others, actually, but not too many). There would be more, many more, but last fall I didn't think it financially prudent to blow my hard earned wad of dough on tulip bulbs. At least not all of it. This coming fall, though, well, for that I am requesting bulb money for my birthday. Tulips, like most anything else, are more stunning in numbers.
This afternoon's light was phenomenal. One of those typical afternoon lighting situations that happen at the tail end of a stormy day: one minute overcast, worthless light, the next minute the most luminous light that turns everything, including the leafing maples, chartreuse. Moments like the one I captured here erase each of the awful and negative emtions that clamp down upon my spirit during the more difficult months of the year when I eat lentils and curse every muddled decision I ever made.
Finally, my mushrooms, the thyme creeping upon their bases like soft thoughts of rabbits. I'm not even entirely sure what I'm saying anymore. The gas meter in the background is looking edible.