A Sunny Day Journal

By late August, I have grown weary of the sunshine. The grass is dry, and flowers are mostly done. I am ready for sweater days and school supplies. Today is the opposite of that. Absolutely everything is lovely, and I can't decide whether to pull up the weeds that are currently bigger than I am, or just collapse on the grass. The first sunny days of Spring are unspeakable precious, and for such a day to fall on a Sunday... 
There are tulips, which should never be taken for granted. The bulbs that I plant with such care, the beautiful white ones with garish red strips last only one season. But the flowers in solid colors come in ones and twos, and always catch me by surprise as a flash of color in all the green, and I think, "How did that get there?"   The Euphorbia is one of those controversial plants that forever remain one of my favorites as a result of its sheer tenacity in the face of the driest heats, and the poorest soils. Most Euphorbia is meant to be pulled up before it can smother more tender plants, but there is a whole range of the special beauties that will reward you with legions of lime and purple stalks in gorgeous masses. They swarm with bees, they smell rather awful, and when you cut them back after that first gorgeous bloom they will cover your arms with smelly, sticky white sap. BUT! Soon after that one trim, they will come right back and make another bountiful bush that will last all season long- even into that August heat. 

So which will win, the weeds or the grassy sit? I think today is a day of the rare Happy Medium. There seems to be plenty of time for both. The weeds will never truly all be pulled, but neither will I spend the whole day pulling them.  Madison has a little friend to play with today, and they keep each other occupied in a restful and noisy sort of way. There is time for painting my toes in my favorite shade of brown, that sparkles in the sunlight like bowlfuls of diamonds. There is time to notice that the Wisteria has hundreds of buds as big as my daughters hand. In a few weeks they will droop all over the gnarly branches in purpley clusters. I can wait. Today there is time.