Obviously, what I am doing right now is working on this blog post, but beyond this moment, I am sure you can guess what I am doing — working on my yard! And beyond that, I am sure you can guess what else I am doing — recuperating from all the work. I never realize how old I am until I start aching, and then, it’s hard to believe I was ever foolish enough to think that just because I could do some physical work, I wasn’t that elderly. (As an interesting aside, interesting to me, that is, elderly used to mean not yet old, whereas now it means old, frail old, decrepit old.)

In previous years, I would post photos of my yard, specific images that showed the few flowers that were blooming, and let you extrapolate from that how gorgeous my yard was. Or was not, which I often had to admit. This year, however, my yard truly is stunning.

The grass I planted last fall looks great. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that come summer and the enormous heat, the grass will survive. To that extent, I am trying not to water even when the grass looks dry and faded, hoping the roots will dig down deep enough that it will survive the heat blast.

Even though I thought I’d harvested all the larkspur seeds last year, enough blew around that any weedy area became a larkspur field this year.

No matter where the larkspur are, even invading a poppy field, they bring joy to all who see them.

Finally, after all these years, my raised garden is not only built, but filled with dirt. And plants! Flowers and vegetables mixed together in harmony. At least, that’s the hope.

The wild roses are doing well.

I have always loved the look of red and yellow bushes mixed together, but my yellow and red bushes got separated. I’ve been trying to buy yellow roses to plant among the red, but never found any. I have come to believe that the yellow is an aberration. One of my red bushes ended up with a stem of yellow flowers. I also found some yellow flowers on a red branch. And in one case, the red rose had yellow petals, too.

And that’s not all! The columbine I planted last year survived the winter and are now thriving.

Cottage pinks that were planted years ago decided to bloom profusely.

The ice plant is forming a carpet of shimmering beauty.

And petunias. What can I say? Petunias always do well here.

It’s funny, but despite the way the yard looks, I still don’t really know what I am doing. I’ve been told that there is an expiration date for that claim, but it certainly hasn’t arrived yet. The beauty of gardening (in addition to the beauty the eyes can see) is that plants that do well thrive and those that don’t, don’t. Any mistakes simply disappear, so what’s left looks as if it comes from heart of a master gardener even though I am strictly a trial-and-error dilettante.

I am learning, however, to take what comes. Last year, one garden area shone with the golden aura of wallflowers. This year, wallflowers are decidedly absent. Some plants that were supposed to be perennials turned out to be biennials. Some wildflower seeds that should have come up this spring never showed even a touch of green. The tulips that started out so hopefully ended up giving up before spring got underway.

I am going to try to take it easy physically for a couple of weeks so that when the larkspur go to seed, I will have the energy to pull up the plants to harvest the seeds and see what plants that wall of blooms is hiding. And then . . .

But “then” isn’t here yet.

Meantime, I am enjoying the surprises I find every day.

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Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.