Shamrocks

One of our neighbors, and we are blessed with so many good neighbors, asked if I would take the pulp from her juicing for my compost. I said absolutely and gave her two 5Gallon buckets, so she could fill one and bring the already full one. Their muppet of a dog, Lucy, has been a floppy bundle of cheer over the last year and a bit. She got attached to me when I was home recovering with my fractured wrist last year.

All the dogs are mine, even if I never get to pet them. I've claimed them all, and let them live with their other humans.

The garden is subdued these days, only tiny or discreet blooms.

Clover.



Thyme.



Lettuce.



Onion.



Cornflower.



The shamrocks I've kept sheltered and shaded survive.



Or waiting to bloom.



The rose that was once engulfed by the Hedge, sickly with deadwood, now well pruned (or at least much pruned) thrives. Not my favorite color of rose, but pretty enough.



I wonder how old she is.



And it rains.