Midsummer past

Just like that, we are at the final day of June. 

Last night the moon was full.  It surprised me.  I took Schubert out before bed, and I thought I saw the moon behind the trees that grow in front of the lake.  We walked around the cul-de-sac to get a view, and sure enough, hanging low in the sky, a perfect golden circle of light.  To be accurate, it was truly full two days earlier, on Wednesday, our 31st anniversary.  But I did not see it that night.

Today the temperature went up to nearly 100, or maybe even higher.  I did a minuscule amount of yard work, and came inside drenched with sweat.  It's been a quiet day. 

Quietly, June passes into July.  Almost imperceptibly, the days begin to shorten again, and we almost don't mind, because of the heat.

Here are a few last photos from June.

Water droplets on lady's mantle always amaze me.  It was even more enchanting when it cupped only the distilled drops of dew from overnight, but I forgot and turned on the sprinkler before I remembered to take a picture.  Don't you think it's still beautiful, though?  Water droplets on leaves give such a picture of life.

This is a tiny rose--the photo is larger than life-size--and it's from the very beginning of June.  I sorely need to deadhead that rosebush now.  Maybe this evening, when it isn't quite so hot.  Often when I deadhead faithfully, I can keep these blooms coming for quite awhile.

Didn't I tell you a few days ago, that I had better hydrangeas than the picture I put up earlier?  My hydrangeas are incredibly high maintenance.  Planted in almost complete shade, they still throw a tantrum every day between noon and 2, when the sun gets on them.  In the later afternoon, they happy up for me, though.  I read somewhere that their name starts with "hydra" because they need a ton of water.

Here's dorky-looking bloom from another hydrangea plant, one of my most hysterically sun-hating bushes.  Keeping it real, here...

During my short time outside today, I found this broken robin's egg shell on the ground.  I hope there is a healthy, happy baby robin somewhere out there.  Why do you think robin's eggs are blue?  It doesn't make any sense to me.