Doing It Over...

This is one of our figs that had produced quite well in years past.  It grew so well I did not even want to trim where it knocked repeatedly against the window.  I decided while it was dormant I would prune the intersecting limbs and give it more room to grow.

Then our winter killed it back to the roots.  We won't have an abundant crop this year but we will have figs. At first I thought I had killed it but the one I did not trim died back to the roots also.

This past week I decided to trim it back.  There were plenty other plants mixed with it.  The wisteria which Dad planted and wished he never had, the Virginia Creeper and Granny's rose bush had made quite the stand here.

All the dead limbs were removed plus all the invaders.  I used some of these for stakes for other plants. Then I burned!  The joy of seeing all your hard work reduced to ash that will feed the ground is indescribable. Maybe I just like fire.

Oh, no, I needed more to burn!!!  I started weeding and pruning all the bird poop plants from the fence. Honey suckle, Virginia Creeper, briers and seedlings were joyfully added.  I am over run with Money plants so many of them were pulled and placed on the fire.

With the green added I had some great smoke.  Burn, baby, burn.  These ashes can be added to the garden.

I had some help

and some more help.

I decided to weed my water garden

and clean all the climbing vines so you could see the fence.

I'm gonna have to quit

This is too much work.

Only three more corners to clean.

Rain Drops On Grass

Too blind to see what lay below
I walked unaware
Beauty lay beneath my toes
So tiny and just right there
They were laying low
Completely unfair
This beauty should be eye high
So's not to miss it walking by.

For Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Birds for Wordle

Wish they had built
On a cliff instead of here
No chimney available
They chose a place
Close to  drink

Six in all
Four babies
Whistle with open mouths
The parents drilled the air
For insect fortunes

No porcelain throne
For their habits
They let it rip
Building a pit, a pile below
The split tail parents sing

For Sunday Whirl...Wordle

For The Mag

Not To Be Reproduced, 1937, Rene Magritte 

A week has passed and once again it is time to stretch our creative muscles for Tess Kincaid at Magpie Tales.  Each Sunday we get an art prompt that inspires us to write.  Join the fun.

Fear

Keeps us faceless

Be certain

Show your face

To the world

Shouting

I am worthy

I can write.

Thirteen for Poets United...

Thirteen days of rain in a row

Thirteen inches all told

Water had no place to go

Thirteen billion raindrops fell

While we watched

Creeks and ditches swelled

The old wives' tale use to be

Rain on the first...Rain fifteen

Didn't make it to fifteen

Our rain stopped on thirteen

With such abundance

The plant life grew

Not offended by the occurrence

For Poets United