Santa Cruz Mountains
More sheltering in place. This day lily has been with me for over 30 years. I rescued it from a hillside being bulldozed at Cabrillo College to add a new building.
I’d love to be traveling with my camera, but California poppies present photo ops right here in my yard. A few seeds scattered last fall bloom majorly this spring.
It’s a short walk to my neighbor’s gorgeous early hydrangea. My grandmother called hers snowball bushes, a long time ago back in Connecticut. Such a nostalgic plant.
Another neighbor’s azalea peeps out from among sycamore trunks and Japanese maple. They’ve branched out into their favorite environment—bright shade.
My first Peace rose of 2020 blooms at home. The thorny stem beside it is part of the same venerable old plant, and a force to contend with while pruning.
Second generation wildflower from Renee’s seed mix. Last year after I planted we were heavy in cosmos. This year it’s yellow calendula and these sweet unidentified pompoms.
Yet another image of my beloved Spanish lavender. This volunteer survives year after year, whether or not rain falls and whether or not I remember to water it.
I have so many of these pink roses, an old English variety planted by the British gentlewoman who owned the property before us. Luckily, I’m fond of pink.
Our odd little flower from last month, with more blossoms opening. Still haven’t identified it. I nearly bumped noses with the well-camouflaged bee on its top left.
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