All the Green

I’m grateful for treadmill time with Cousin Melinda every few days. We start with our eager trainee who jumps on as soon as I unfold it, and while I incentivize her with treats, our assistant coach times her. Today was her longest run yet at two minutes. When Wren is done, I do get on for my own exercise. I’m grateful for everything about this time, from having a foldup treadmill to an eager pup to exercise time with my cousin in Kentucky, and the technology that allows us to do it.
I’m grateful for what promises to be a bountiful apricot year, and to Neighbor Fred for his expertise in pruning and guidance. Is it time to thin them yet, neighbor?
I’m grateful, as always, for the cheese sandwich. The past few days I’ve been grilling them in olive oil and including arugula. So simple, so delicious!
Precious wildflowers on the trail this evening…

It’s a great year for the miniature lupines that I’ve only found in one patch along the trail. I was challenged to find information online about it, but then I was grateful to remember I have a book! So I turned to Weber’s Colorado Flora, and from there was able to locate it online as Lupinus lepidus. It was years before I even noticed this little flower, and the patch just keeps growing. When the seedpods burst they can shoot up to twenty feet. I’m definitely going to collect some seeds to sow in the yarden this summer.

Amidst a forest floor full of weeds, this spectacular patch of miniature lupines stands alone.

It’s a sad truth that the smaller, more delicate, and more sparse plants on the forest floor are the natives, and the much more prolific, prickly or gaudy plants are invasive exotics, like this weedy alyssum below. Carpets of it all going to seed! Sure, it looks like a fairy land in the right light, but drop a match or catch an ember and it’s nothing but tinder. Everyone is thrilled about all the green everywhere, and though I’m not obsessing over it, I can’t help but think often about how as soon as summer dries it out we’ll have ten times the wildfire fuel on the ground as we did last year.

I AM grateful for all the green in the garden, though. Lettuce, arugula, and orach are bountiful now. I’m so glad I made time to plant arugula and lettuce under plastic hoops in late winter, and also that I let the orach go to seed last fall and it self-sowed.

Under the Red Umbrella

Wren helps me read under the red umbrella this morning. I had turned the chair toward the house so that I could watch the most exciting development here at Mirador in a couple of years. The phoebes are nesting again under the deck!

They only just committed to it today. I’ve been seeing a solo phoebe flying in and out, singing from the top of the tower or the birch tree, occasionally for a couple of weeks, and was happy yesterday to see a pair flitting around the house a few times. This morning one of them flew up to the nest platform multiple times and flew off again, and then from inside the house I heard a long musical conversation, a gentle chirruping trill that went on and on as he sat on the cable swing, and she on the cat ladder, the nest platform above and between them. After that, there was steady traffic to the platform with fluff in beaks all day.

I kept my distance to give them time to get established in their apartment before settling into my outdoor living room. The old nests I had taken down when I reset the platform so it would have better protection for them, I had set in a pot on the edge of the patio. Several visits were made to pillage the old material for the new nest. I have been filled with joy and gratitude all day that these lovely, personable, flycatchers are back. Not only was I lonely in their absence the past two summers, having grown accustomed to their lively presence, I also missed their voracious appetites for flies and grasshoppers. I’m so grateful that the phoebes are back.

Seasonal Surprises and Joys

It’s been a long time since we had Boyz Lunch, and I’m grateful that we were finally able to get together this afternoon. I made the celery-white bean ragout that was so delicious awhile ago, and used green beans instead of zucchini. On the side I served the leftover asparagus salad, and a piece of buttered sourdough toast with cheddar cheese. Along with the obligatory iced vanilla lattes. It was a perfectly gorgeous day, sunny but not too hot, with a steady breeze. We were all a little giddy to be gathering again, and thoroughly enjoyed our leisurely visit. Dessert was raspberry cheesecake thumbprint cookies.

After a busy day, after gratitude for hosting an online evening meeting, Wren and I stepped out of the yard for the first time today. As we started up the driveway the familiar fragrance of Fremont holly assailed us, letting me know instantly that the giant bush next door was in bloom. So we made our first of our annual seasonal visits to hang out with it. I’m grateful for the cycle of seasonal surprises and joys.


I know I just posted my gratitude for lilacs a few days ago, but I can’t help myself. They are here so fleetingly, and with such a powerful presence. I can smell them from various places in the yard, their aroma a tender reminder calling me to come and stand or sit with them for a few minutes and inhale their cleansing fragrance. Like the wildflowers, their blossoms are more abundant this year than ever. Every couple of days I snip a few sprigs to bring inside and perfume the house.

I received a good-natured complaint today of a paucity of Wren images in recent posts, so we sat with the lilacs and rectified that omission. It looks like she’s diva posing, but the truth is that she didn’t want to sit still and kept snapping at gnats that were circling our heads.

I’m also grateful today for this fabulous Crispy Coconut, Asparagus and Green Bean Salad from Yotam Ottolenghi. I used the last of the wild asparagus and some green beans from last summer’s frozen harvest, and was grateful to have every other element in the kitchen including Aleppo pepper flakes and shredded unsweetened coconut, as well as fresh cilantro in the garden. It was an extraordinary combination of flavors and textures. I’ll be grateful tomorrow for the leftovers.

And I’m grateful that sourdough is so forgiving. I fell asleep this afternoon and let it rise too long, and ended up with a very wet, very flat loaf, which still cooked through with a beautiful crust, and will provide some very flat cheese sandwiches for this week’s lunches.


It’s so easy to go through the day on autopilot, attending to the usual things, whatever they are. I’m grateful for the practice of expanding my attention beyond the habitual. Moving a hose this morning next to the yucca, the habitual attention is to make sure I don’t poke myself on the sharp leaf tips; closer attention reveals a bud emerging from deep inside.

I walk past this bed several times a day sometimes without a glance. I’m grateful that today I paused to notice the first iris in bloom, and all the buds beyond, with blooming nepeta in the background.

With this lovely little dog, who seems content with much less exercise than the big dogs used to demand, I often don’t walk in the woods for a couple of days in a row. Today we went outside the yard twice, south in the morning where the screaming orange globe mallow welcomed us, and north in the afternoon, where there are more wildflowers in bloom than I’ve ever seen. This is the payoff for the long, cold, wet winter.

If I’ve ever seen white phlox here before, I don’t remember it. There was just one small patch of half a dozen clusters along the trail, amid a swath of pink. A few arrowleaf balsomroots are blooming

A few arrowleaf balsomroots are blooming in their usual corner of the trail, and just beyond them, tucked in the shade, a single wild larkspur.

There were many other thoughts and goings on that I might have spent my attention budget on instead, but I’m grateful that I took the time today to pay some attention to the forest and the profusion of wildflowers growing there. May is always the best season on the forest floor, and this year it’s more colorful than it’s been the whole thirty years I’ve been walking it.

Pink Flowers

I’m grateful that everyone in my household woke up alive this morning, and we got to enjoy coffee in the garden before getting to work. Topaz doesn’t often consent to a lap, so it was special to have her relax on mine for awhile as I sat among the raised beds where I planted onions and some leeks last night.

After coffee we walked the Breakfast Loop, feeling gratitude for abundant May wildflowers, and especially the wild pink phlox. It’s a good year for the wildflowers, even though it’s also a good year for the weeds.

The little yellow flowers are weeds, but the pink ones are natives, astragalus in the foreground and phlox in the middle.

And I’m making sure to spend some time each day with the crabapple tree, bursting with gorgeous pink flowers attended by bees. I’m grateful for pink flowers.

Right Tool for the Job

Tomato last resort: I’ve surrendered to the late planting and cold spring. Time for extra effort. I saw this mini greenhouse hack on Instagram last night and knew it was the last chance for my seedlings. I’m grateful to have the right tools (almost) for the job: I haven’t been without a cordless drill in my adult life, I just lack the right bit for plastic but used a wood bit and barely cracked the box drilling vents. I’m grateful I had a spare craft storage box. This setup should bring them up to speed. We’ll know more later!

One thing I learned this week is that the seed-starting mix I used is crap. So though I was hoping to plant them directly, I also potted up the peppers this afternoon into a rich compost.

Serendipitous Discoveries

I completely accidentally discovered something new on my iPhone Photos app. Lots of other people knew this, I’m sure, but I stumbled upon the ability to isolate a subject from the background. It took about fifteen minutes to pin it down after I accidentally pushed on an image and saw Wren get outlined in light… I’m grateful for these serendipitous discoveries!


Lilacs and forsythia in full bloom at the same time… a silver lining to the long cold spring. A few bees partake of their flowers now. May that number increase. Like many others, I hold lilacs especially dear among flowering shrubs. I’m grateful for their fleeting season.