Our plans are to weed, weed, and then weed. Why did God ever make artillery weeds? They look so innocent with a rosette of basal leaves, and from the center a stalk with a delicate white flower arises, but when it dries the seeds spiral in every direction when touched. And regardless of our effort, they are everywhere.
As I walked toward the Thundercloud plum, the noise above was as in an orchestra, the cacophony of warming up prior to a symphony. From whence they suddenly came, I know not, but the bees were hard at work and joyful in their duty. They are difficult to discern in the photo, but take my word for it, there were hundreds upon hundreds. We sure would like to find the recipient of that nectar.
Of course we did not accomplish all we had planned, but that's the way it goes. We had a change in our list of to-dos as wasps were attempting to lodge inside our screened-in gazebo. Now that won't work at all, so caulking some open spaces was completed.
An absolutely beautiful day, and tomorrow we head out to help friends cut and wrap lamb. I can already taste the soon-to-be-made Lamb Stew.
