Last weekend's (it feels like last year's, this week has been so full) corydalis has settled into its pot happily, sharing with a chatreuse liriope ("Pee Dee Ingot" - uncomfortable name), a violet and three lilies already risen to ten inches. I think they are Formosas. The corydalis up close looks very Alien. Sigourney should grow them in her garden...
While I was watering this evening, a mockingbird, left, duked it out with a kestrel on the aerials across the road.
Two weeks ago I took this picure and labelled it Lily. Um. No, it was in fact the beginnings of the Veronicastrum I planted last, late summer.
That's not a bad growth spurt. Twelve days, sixteen inches.
The way the catnip looks at the end of an unattended day. And the reason little pots are a high maintenance pain. No, I like watering them. It's a good feeling.
The scary roses. I'm not really ready for them.