White butterfly flirts with purple Penstemon.

Green grass grows here, where it shouldn’t, but not there, where I want it. The battle raged with this and other gardening endeavors throughout the morning.

The surround sound song of house wrens everywhere chit chittering, flit flittering, chime chime-ically.

Turquoise sky scrubbed soft and sweet with mid summer heat revealing just after noon a waxing half moon, its face at rest above the mountain crest.

Bob went home to Bend so I’m here alone to work and play and wax whimsically.