It's not yet 8 am and the front garden is fresh, drip-dropping with dew. It's still in the shade; the sun will start baking it dry in about an hour. At that time it will be buzzing. A virtual army of bees and wasps, tiny white butterflies, a scattering of monarch butterflies will come visiting. The wasps especially like the old wooden bench on the deck, the one that's surrounded by my potted herbs. Often I have to share space with them. They haven't stung me so far (fingers crossed).
It's all looking like a meadow now. H mowed two weeks ago but the wild grasses and the buttercups are coming back. I love its slightly raffish look though. And the scents! I scoffed at the French lilac a while back, it seemed so tightly curled in on itself and lacking in the fragrance I was expecting. But I was wrong. It was just too early in the season. The flower clusters have since grown larger and heavier and once the sun warms them the cloud of perfume is heady and delicate at the same time, especially around mid-morning. The dame's violets are tall stalks of sweetness. And oh, the blue columbines. They are like pieces of sky that you can inhale. More assertive, herbal scents envelop me if I sit amidst the thyme, laurel, oregano and tarragon. The lavender is robust, but I think it comes into its own fragrance only when it is dried and I have these daydreams of hanging bunches of them overhead in the kitchen once there is enough to harvest. There are two types of thyme and two types of sage. Maybe I should grow them all over the front garden. Scents over you, scents around you, scents underfoot.
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