English Country Gardens…

This spring has seen a lot of rain;  and I mean even more than the flooding in 2015, the year we moved to Footlights, that was declared the wettest spring in Texas on record.

I am sure that record has been surpassed this year.

When it’s not raining it’s warm and damp, good for tropical plants and my dewy skin, not so good for my hair!

The humidity awakens the grasses, weeds and wild flowers,


it puts a damper on building and outdoor ranch activities like hay cutting, weed spraying and the growing of grapevines.

It causes our dirt road to sag into potholes that can be treacherous when on foot.

Hubs has been mowing our front and back gardens in-between downpours;

He jokes that if he turns around on his tractor he can see the new grass growing in his wake.

This year we have a tame-meets-wild-look going on in our meadows


and the wildflowers, more commonly known as weeds in my mother’s handbook, are popping up all over the place.

I’ve had trout lilies (the first to emerge in February), wild sage, goldenrod, purple prairie clover, and a vast display of honeysuckle hugging our trees and pole fences,


Hubs mowed me pathways all around our meadows so I could go out in my long trousers and boots to wage war on the thistle that’s thriving along with everything else,

I rather like the neat edged look along our driveway now that he’s permitting the long natural grasses we grow to go unchecked.


It swirls, is tousled by the wind and flattened by the heavy rains

then left to billow when birds and cotton-tails scurry along.


I began noticing, during my daily walks, that other property owners and ranchers had done the same thing.

Mowed a bit.

In front of the horse farm,


and along the edge of the lane.


Doubtless this is all they can manage, these mower-happy folk, without running the risk of getting bogged down in the middle of a sodden pasture.

The fields have become awash with yellow daisies that shine against the chartreuse green and leave their pollen on the hides of the bulls mindfully chewing the cud.


Purple vetch roam the fields unchecked and these lovely buttercups clothed in white


and pink look good enough to eat, or at least to decorate an afternoon iced fancy.


Milkweed and Indian blanket adorn my meadows,


and my spirits are raised by the vibrant backdrop, perfect for all the colours of nature.


In the heart of Texas I am whisked away to the heady lushness of an English Country Garden,

and my heart sings.

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