No promise, no pressure. Only if it's a pleasure, and I'm thinking it might be.
The migrating birds have all abandoned SW Michigan for warmer climates now.
The young Phoebes were among the last to go. Until a few days ago they were still practicing their dart-out-and-catch-a-bug skills from the tops of the bluebird nest boxes.
Now the flying bugs can safely enjoy the time until the first hard frost, which could happen any time now.
With hosta eating deer overpopulating our property, I've been experimenting with various kinds of sedum to fill in a few of the garden gaps.
The deer don't touch them, they multiply rapidly, they don't require much care, and they don't seem to mind if they don't get much sun. I admire their spirit as they try for an autumn bloom while the falling leaves are attempting to bury them.
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