At my fingertips

Working in the garden and finding my mind wandering and myself getting lost in the stuff of dreamy thought, forgetting all else but the world of magical thinking where  the perfect moment is at my fingertips along with the weeds, the sun is warm on my back and the air is light and alive.

Grasses are a favorite here and form tendrils of wispy blossoms, some feathery, some dainty, and  some discrete.  Three new varieties add interest and color to the front of the garden, alongside  the Sedum. The Sea Oats’  shoots are topped with the most impossibly dainty, pink, slippered  shaped tendrils that are irresistible if not invisible.

Lily Turf is a favorite of mine that overflows Washington DC planters all year long,   and simply astounds me with their winter hardiness as we walk the streets at Christmastime every year. The purple feathery tubular flowers dress the plant, they tell me,  through the summer  months–a unfulfilled promise since these are not settled in just yet.

Hope,  I like to think,  is forever at the  gardener’s  fingertips, just within reach.

More on the Mallow/Holly Hocks–which seem to have come out of nowhere–and migration, of which there are oodles of fanciful stories for future blogs.

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