Early this morning, before sunrise, a storm blew through. It dumped an inch of rain and made quite a ruckus for a little while. In its aftermath, and after the sun rose, it left behind a pretty sky.
After two unusually hot days (continuing our run of weird weather), nature seemed to be celebrating the moisture and the cooler air. As I walked to the garden, the sound of my steps was the only human-made sound I could hear. But it wasn’t quiet. Seemingly hundreds of birds were singing, our roosters were crowing, there were wild turkeys gobbling in the woods and a couple of Canadian geese flew by honking joyfully.
The soaking was good for the things I planted the day before, but it will further delay the rest of the planting. So be it.
The asparagus has been slow to emerge this year. Yesterday a neighbor stopped by to ask if ours was up yet. His wasn’t and he couldn’t understand why. It was something of a relief to know ours isn’t the only tardy patch.
Normally by now I’d fill at least one of these baskets each morning. But this was all I got today.
Meanwhile the new crowns I planted are growing like mad. Go figure.
I could grumble about things, but that would be a shame on a beautiful morning like this. And why add a grumpy voice to the celebration?
It’s a beautiful morning. And that’s just fine by me.