Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Evening, to contemplate much mint makes a good mojito.

The sunset pink on the next door building.

The mystery of the hole. Who keeps digging it, between the marjoram and the unhappy strawberry?

Several mornings in a row. I don't think the squirrel. I think a bird, for a sort of dust bath - it's so smooth.

And it throws all the soil down into the neighbor's deserted backyard. We even set up a time lapse camera, to catch it. But that time it did not come.

And how long it will be before the Nicotiana decides to snap at the waist?

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