Nature's magic picked a perfect time to unfurl.
Right before Easter weekend.
Tender breeze scented by jasmine and the last of the orange blossoms.
With a faint note of fresh roses, slowly about to explode.
As you know, I am a hunter of that golden hour.
When 5 p.m. rolls around and sun dances in and out of trees and bushes for an hour.
Casting a changing glow and intensity in the garden.
It moves from bright to dusty, to fairy tale right before the evening hour.
The giant oleander bushes that split my front garden in half, block the last of the fading sun that curiously beams into my east facing flower garden.
It's that eastern location that is part of what makes my garden possible in the desert.
That and my elevation plus canopying shade trees, all working to shelter flowers from heat and afternoon sun.
But it's that special late afternoon sun, trickling in through oleander bushes, that gives glowing turns to different flowers in the garden.
Truth be told, it's the only place I want to be when spring and sun meet up for happiest hour.
And it seems, little winged creatures agree.
He sort of twisted his head a little and looked right at me taking his photo.
I did a count of my rose bushes.
4 were here and are 35+ years old.
And there are 32 now.
Which means somewhere in my madness, I put in 28 rose bushes?!?
What the heck?!
I didn't even notice.
I had never counted.
It just sort of happened over the last 13 years.
Oh and look...
From one day to the next, the mesquite trees got their leaves.
Solidifying the look of spring for certain.
Tea in the garden anyone?
Roses roses everywhere.
32 bushes about to pop open in some sort of unison.
I can't remember when I put in the metal rose arbor below, 4 or 5 years ago?
Maybe longer, I don't know.
There are two white climbing roses on either side of the front, and one pink on the back.
Which is finally making its way over.
The pinks are these perfect tiny rose buds the size of your pinky nail.
So pretty and dainty.
Oh, whose that looking at us I wonder?
Why, it's the keeper of the garden, sitting atop the highest porch stair.
His throne really.
Keeping look out over his kingdom.
Any sound, car, voice and he is on it like the Tasmanian devil.
I don't think he rests much.
Poor dear, it's just his nature.
Even while asleep his fur sits straight up, ears perked.
One sound and he's up in less that a second.
If you try to approach his post, he leaves quickly and in annoyance.
Or if you are a stranger, well, just don't approach.
My gate says beware of dog, the mail gal says in this case, it's no joke.
My little meanie.
Love him so.
He's with us by a miracle, guarding his dominion.
Protector of his gardens.
Which funny enough, he always sits in his spot at golden hour also.
When the light shoots rainbows around.
Which really might be fairies flying so fast you only see their sparkle?
I'm sort of beyond smitten with rose season.
This below, is on the west side of the garden, where the gyspy wagon lives.
It's on the other side of the big oleanders that split the flower garden from the gypsy wagon, gallery and my office courtyard.
The climbing roses are gobbling up the building.
Tea roses turned up for the party.
There is even a canopy of roses you can hide in and have lunch or write.
Where the wisteria and the roses intertwine.
Now it's time for picking.
And I struggle with picking or just leaving to enjoy.
Well, I'll pick some for my Easter vase, and go from there.
As golden hour leaves us, evening blue sets in.
Casting a blue light.
As little creatures settle in.
The tops of the aloes get their last glow, like firecrackers.
And the brilliance of color stands out in layers.
Then fairy lights.
It's Easter weekend my friends.
I have guests and fun times in store.
Going to some museums, etc.
How are you?
Got any eggciting weekend plans?
Lots of love, happiest Easter wishes!!