Greetings and salutations, everyone; yes, once again it is I, your popular host, Mani the purebred border collie, here today to tell you about what’s been going on lately. You may remember me from such posts as “Late At Night”, among so many, many others.
Here I am in a characteristic pose.
It’s still really dry here. We get rain, but just in the form of sprinkles from time to time.
This isn’t normal for us, but the guy I live with said he would just water the garden, some.
Still, there are things in flower.
This is Sternbergia lutea. Bulbs of this have been here for about thirty years, but they don’t always flower. He divided some and planted them in another part of the garden, and they’re flowering. The older clumps aren’t.
He said that if it rained, there might be more flowers. He can be very profound.
There are some crocuses, too. This is Crocus puringii:
One flower appeared away from the main group, and it’s not open today because it’s too chilly. (It’s 46 degrees F, or 8 C.)
If you remember that one area of the “way back” I showed pictures of a while ago, in “Exciting Times”, the guy I live with dug out all the grass the other day. He wasn’t used to working that much, and it tired him out. The soil was dry as a bone, though. I know how dry that is because there are bones in the field; the kind of bones people buy for dogs, though I don’t care for such things. Why they’re out in the field is a mystery.
This is what it looks like now, if you were walking out in the field and looked into the garden.
This is a picture taken when it was darker, looking toward the house, when we were on my evening walk. You can see the Sedum ‘Matrona’ and the red leaves of Acer grandidentatum.
This was taken on another walk, later in the evening. The guy I live with said it reminded him of “The Empire of Light”, a famous painting by Magritte.
That’s the light on our patio.
We often walk at night, now.
He took this picture one night when it had rained a little. Kind of scary if you ask me.
The guy I live with has a headlamp that he wears on his hat; it’s sometimes necessary because there are lots of fallen apples and crabapples in the field.
I can see better than he can, and usually guide him away from things he might trip over. He said that back in the last century there would have been raccoons all over those apples, but we haven’t seen any raccoons since I was little. Maybe they know I’m around, and avoid my deadly demeanor.