Pictures From a Dry Garden

by Kelly

That title sounds like some puzzling existential film that would be shown on IFC or Sundance, but really it's just a statement of fact.

I tried to wait for one of the fledgling baby wrens to poke his head out of this birdhouse, because I thought it would be a nice contrast, the weathered old paint and a very young, very small bird. But Mama wren was scolding me from above, so I decided to move on. Besides, even though it was only nine in the morning, it was 92 degrees outside and humid as only the Midwest can be.

 Is this good weather for grapes? We'll see...

 

I've never been that in love with Hostas, but these were actually quite pretty until they shrivelled up in the heat and drought. 

In fact, it's so dry that it's starting to look more like autumn around here, just because so many trees are dropping their leaves. But there are some tough survivors around here that aren't giving up...

Whatever this Mulberry tree has been through has left it scarred and ugly, but it's leaves are green and it was covered with berries a few weeks ago.

And one last spot of beauty, struggling along in a hot, white desert that it landed in by chance.

I'm going to go back out to give this guy a drink of water. I admire anything that stubbornly gives the finger to the uncaring universe and all the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. Sometimes my efforts to help the small creatures in the world backfire, but sometimes they work out. Fingers crossed.