In lieu of an actual post containing, you know, words, I thought I'd show you a bit of what offers me serenity. When it's not 100% humidity. Anything higher than 80%, and I'm merely looking out a window.
(The Japanese Maple has purple-red leaves. I love it.)
(If I were a bird, I'd want to live here.)
(These were lilies. We have very cute, but slightly assholish bunnies in our yard. They like to eat some of our plants, looking wildly adorable while doing it.)
(This is where the bunnies live. Can you see? They enlarged the entrance! Also, there used to be lilies in front of this lattice. They didn't even leave the stem stumps behind.)
(Birdhouse Row. A family of wrens occupied the one on the far right. They were delightfully noisy. But all is quiet now since they took off.)
(St. Francis has an empty basket. Which isn't accurate. But if we filled it with sunflower seeds, the squirrels would knock him over.)
(Except for the potted plants, these hydrangeas provide the only color in the backyard after the azalea blooms die.)
(The dogwood stretches towards the sun.)
(These trees -- tulip poplars -- are the reason that thunderstorms fill me with a bit of dread.)
(Their canopies loom large. A falling limb is no joke.)
(David lined the path with rocks. It looks lovely.)
(It's hard to see, but the beech tree has a carving in it. It says "DH," and then something I can't make out, and then "1915." Which I think is awesome.)
(The bottom of the beech is completely different than the smooth upper trunk.)
(Remnants of the June 2010 storm. Poplar, gingko and black walnut. Clean-up took months.)
(What would you call this shade of red?)
(My ghostly child through the window.)The end.
