As the few garden crops I’ve cultivated — tomatoes and kale and spinach — spend themselves and begin to bolt, I’ve been meandering around my yard investigating what Mother Nature planted without any input from me. There’s something different every year, and always a bit of delight: Having not been in on the sowing, I am surprised at the variety of the yield, some of which becomes evident only in late summer.
Often, there are sunflowers, sown and grown by an improbable succession of events: a bird or squirrel dropping the seed from a feeder, the impression of my footfall or theirs to secure it in the hard clay soil, the right combination of rain and sun. And then, this:
Or the lobelia — apparently last year’s annual, gone perennial — shimmering in a pot amid this year’s spent pansies. Or the Virginia creeper — leaves soon to be scarlet — now pushing its way up through the deck planks. Or the ….uh … yellow stuff gracing my driveway.
My favorite surprise, though, has been a rangy outcropping of catnip, thick-stemmed, tiny-blossomed and pungent with that singular scent my cats knew before I did.
Ever since Colorado legalized recreational marijuana five years ago, my state has offered an additional kind of Rocky Mountain high to humans. Personally, I prefer watching my cats get buzzed: those wild and dreamy eyes reminding me to appreciate the unpredictable gifts of this surprising world, ever offering themselves to us.
Pass the Doritio’s, Puff! Eh, is that why you named her “Puff”?
Usually cannot go wrong looking at Nature … and even better, looking at the surprises Nature brings. Always appreciate the reminder – lovely pictures – and Puff and Spot with the catnip is happifying …
Glad this was “happifying” for you, too, my Rafiki!