I’m not a rose person.
When we moved into this house last year, we inherited a lot of rose bushes. Despite my best attempts at ignoring the roses, they continue to thrive in my insanely overgrown garden.
They’re ridiculous, profuse, and profound. My garden smells like a perfume factory, all lush and delicate.
The hydrangea and hollyhocks are about to burst into bloom:
Tucked away by the gate, we have a thriving nasturtium.
We also have one of I’m-not-sure-what-it’ll-be. Whatever it is, it will be here soon.
Since this is California and we’re in a drought, most of these plants will be going in another month or two, replaced by native and drought-tolerant plants designed to attract bees, butterflies, and birds. The grass is going too, but we’re on the lip of a regional park so there’s no shortage of greenery in my line of sight. The hollyhocks stay! So does the nasturtium, if I can wrangle it.
One of these days I’ll dig out my trusty Canon EOS Rebel and take some better photos. For now, the cell phone variety will have to suffice. (I know I can do better, I was lazy.)