Soul-o has found a spot, a makeshift tent under the quilt draped on the now worktable. Especially when the Fox comes by to snack on a squirrel or two. Which is quite often now. Or when the two coyotes use the path in the woods to go wherever they are going in the early evening. Or just to nap in the peak heat of the day. A breeze blows through.
Magnolia did not have an easy spring. The climate was not friendly. All the blooms froze and rotted and dropped before opening. But she made more than enough leaves and gave it one last try, now in July as if to say, I am here, not whining, blaming anyone, just blooming. Best I can. I take note. To self.