After weeks of above average temperatures and below average precipitation, the two downpours that came within a few days were very welcome.



Street-pounding, earth-drenching, flower-sparkling rain.



Everything looked happier: the bright blooms,



and the formerly-bloomed.





and still have a certain geometric beauty after the rich, purple petals are spent.



The sun is shining again, and the flora at My Little Home and Garden is better for the preceding cloudbursts.
"Into each life a little rain must fall," wrote Longfellow. I'm happy for the recent, literal interpretation of his lines.

As I browse through blogs, I often see lovely collages. Since there is no satisfaction like learning something new, this evening was the time to experiment!


In the first one, above, I thought I'd play with the contrast between the pure white daisies and the reddish-orange geranium blossom.




This lavender-coloured rose bush, which has a heavenly sweet scent, is fairly close in hue to my coneflowers. I decided to put the two of them adjacent to each other.




The theme in my final collage was "growth". Literally, from daisy bud to daisy. Figuratively, it could represent my developing (I hope!) blogging skills.


There are many exciting things to learn in blogging. In reading various ones, I stumble across ideas such as tea, mosaic, floral, and oodles-of-other-special-day-of-the-week posts. Or parties. Or something! I haven't tried any of those yet; perhaps that could be my next challenge.


Thank you for your ideas. Bye for now!

While traveling alone in Belgium, years ago, I remember staying in a small garret in an old house in Bruges. The proprietor took me up the flights of stairs to my room and I remarked that there were so many interesting objects within view. His comment, "For those who have eyes to see."

His words came back to me today. It is close to two weeks since my journey into the Land of Blogs began and my camera has been getting used daily (a new development). I find myself looking at things differently. More keenly. More thoughtfully. I want to notice things that I haven't noticed before. Not just the rose, but the heart of the rose.



Today, I noticed the vibrant hue of this spirea. Only afterwards, while examining the photo, did I observe the ladybug. Do you see it?



I noticed the gradations of green in the hydrangea blossoms, darkest when starting to bloom, then progressively lighter as they open. Soon, they will be white and wonderful.



I noticed how the hydrangea and spirea, together, simply pleased me.
"For those who have eyes to see." Some phrases stay with a person.
I hope you've found a minute in your day to notice something lovely.