It is dry, very, very dry. It is so dry the twenty foot plus long crack in the garden is getting wider and deeper. A small animal could hide in there.
The blue asters bloom on, the asters that are not brown toast anyway.
The plan for this bed was a low mounding lawn of sedges. You can see how that went. Blue asters and Boneset moved in and I did not have the heart to evict them.
There are blue asters everywhere you turn. There are so many blue asters even a dozen or more cows could not eat them all in two days of trying in the ridge top garden. They did however make a major dent in their numbers.
In the time of blue asters, I walk slowly in a world of ethereal blue.
They are returning to a meadow that was once buried in clematis.
Edit and they will come. So will plenty white ones.
So I tell myself fog is a prelude to rain. I heard it dripping from the trees this morning. I had to stop and pay attention. What is that sound?
There is a chance tomorrow. I'm not sure if it is hurricane related or cold front related and I don't care. It is wicked dry out there. Please give me rain.