||[May. 20th, 2017|09:40 pm]
The last chirps of the birds overlap with the first chirps of the crickets as evening falls. The frogs have begun croaking, too, which means their stream hasn't yet run dry. The cool air is pleasant after the heat of afternoon. It is quite still, and very quiet. For now, the air smells of pine and grass, but soon there will be jasmine. These warm days will quickly coax open the small buds that already cover the hedge. At the back of the yard the trumpet vine is starting to leaf out, and it won't be long before its flowers will appear.|
This morning a mowing took place in the back back yard. A few foxtails survive where they were protected by patches of the lamb's ear, the clover, the lupines, and a few other pleasing volunteer plants that were allowed to remain. I might get around to weeding those areas by hand, but if not then the cats will just have to take care not to get the dried foxtails stuck to themselves.
All but two of the next ten days are predicted to have highs in the eighties or nineties. The sun will shine relentlessly. The coolest day will be next Friday, when it will be a mere 76 degrees. Summer has imposed itself on spring's last month. It looms, enervating and arid, days on end, days on end.