Passing Glories

Yesterday, I strolled through my yard, looking for beautiful blooms for you. Here are some small irises that have sprung up in a bed. I took some to church yesterday in an arrangement.

The roses are really blooming. I have two rugosas that I planted several years ago, and they've flourished and spread out. The blooms are so simple, but deeply, deliciously aromatic. When I stuff my nose into one, it's like diving into a rich vat of delectable scent. Yummmm.

Here's the other rugosa, a white one. As I was taking pictures, one of Adam's "employees" buzzed out of a blossom! I watched her for some minutes, as she gathered pollen from the blooms.

A scraggly rhododendron nearly went into the burn pile a few years ago, but I decided to keep it, and clear around it. How glad I am that I did! Isn't it exquisite?

This, on the other hand, is an azalea of some sort. You can really see how these plants are related. And this color! Oh my!

Another azalea, close by. These are in the shade, and thus they're still blooming a little bit. In a few days, they'll be done. Spring comes, and leaves, so quickly. We wait for months! We pine and long for warmth and green and color.  I have friends in colder climates who are still waiting for spring to arrive!

Ours is nearly past. One very warm day will come, and we'll all realize, "It's summer!" Another rose. I moved 5 ill-placed rose bushes back into a garden bed in full sun, a couple of years ago. They've all survived and are blooming together this year.

The rest of the azaleas? Passing. One lone white blossom hangs on, while her companions are brown and dead.

Whole bushes of them are faded, drooping, brown. How does new life turn to death, so quickly?

The forsythia blooms of a month ago.

The daffodils also. Now I wait for their green stems to yellow and wilt, and I'll bind them up.

Rain turns the blossoms into shreds. They stick to the leaves.

That was yesterday. Today, the roses celebrate. Tomorrow? Here's a tiny hydrangea;  soon she'll be a huge, white pom-pom.

The money plant. This year, I'm going to remove these stalks while they're green, so I can control their drying in the house, and get the elegant, metallic dried discs I've been wanting. For today, they still grow.

My Lady Banks rose.  Remember its splendor? I'll wait another eleven months to see it again.

Each season, each month, has its beauty. We have our preferences, but Nature knows no favorites. I have often seen more beauty in the barren, cold tree branches, or the dying fall leaves, than I do in spring's colors. Each to her own.