Nature and Garden Thoughts

Nature and Garden Thoughts---

You never hear a grumpy bird.

Weeds work hard at belonging.

Tilled earth awaits.

The outside cat is the real owner of the place.

Nesting mother Robins are excellent dive bombers.

A gentle rain whispers--Come walk in me.

Bunnies burrow beneath bushes.

Sit outdoors with your eyes closed and listen to the world around you.

Flower boxes are party dresses on houses.

Gardeners move plants.  Plants move gardeners.

Raking causes tired arms and shoulders and dispositions.

Does talking to plants encourage them to be their best?  Can't hurt.

Who decided weeds are a bad thing?

Who needs moderation in a garden?

Not all plants or people are self-starters.

Dirty fingernails can be prevented by wearing gloves, I'm told.

Piles of color fall leaves are fun.  Piles of brown spring leaves are work.

Bird baths--spas in the garden.

Wonder if plants think about the gardener?

Rocks just lay around.

Crab grass makes me crabby.

Blank spaces in the garden are invitations waiting to be written.

Be aware of your surroundings.  They bring inspiration.

How many times can a plant be moved before it rebels?

Five pairs of mud caked tennis shoes or one pair of rubber boots?

A mole is an underground machine of yard destruction.

Plants, like people, bring diversity to this world.

Spring is a  promise of golden days yet to come.

Koi in the garden pond must have names.

An early morning walk through the garden is a feast for the senses.

If Creeping Charlie were a cash crop, I'd be a millionaire.

Surrender the notion that your plant beds will be weed free.

Shovels--dirt movers.

A broken blue egg--one less Robin in our world.

What to do about beaver chewing on my trees?  A new fur coat?  No, chicken wire.

I cannot paint a picture on a canvas, but I can paint the earth with color and texture.

Birds and wind move plants to unexpected places.

Some landscapes are perfect.  Others are a bit scattered.  Which is best?  Depends on the owner.

Deer with purple juice dripping from their mouths--there goes my berry pie.

It never ends--this thing called gardening.

Stop looking through landscape books!

Our bully hummingbird has returned.

Happy Spring!