A garden of sweet peas, with the pink flowers blossoming wherever the vine had managed to find itself a trellis -- mostly of other plants -- and across the way, escaped sweet peas do the same on the wild plants.
Feral tiger lilies blossom orange among the grass golden from the drought.
I look out on the rain, however little, and the lawn amber with dead grass. When I look out minutes later, I wonder if I missed it before, or the green really has grown that far in the gap.
the grass is golden, gone to seed, and interlaced with sky blue flowers of chicory, and the bright yellow of hop clover.
The moon is rising -- it is a glow, golden, muffled among clouds, just peeking over a rooftop. And when I return, it had overtopped it, glowing with a fiery golden, surrounded by streaks of cloud. The wind rustles the leaves, and even in the midst of summer, the green leaves rattle.
I water the garden, where the snapdragons and moss roses and cone flowers are flourishing in reds and yellows and oranges, and every now and again the sunlight catches the spray and a little rainbow arches over the flowers. And I finish watering and put everything away and go to the car -- and see a rainbow-like reflection in the windows. I blinked. And looked back. there, in a a band across the white, wispy clouds was an enormous long, very straight band of rainbow color that, if anything arched with the red on the inside. But it's far from the sun for a sundog. . . I look about the sky, and finally (shielding myself from the sun with my hand), made out the rainbow colored ring about the sun. (The promise of rain. Oh please let it rain.)
A white moth perches on the screen, with the room dark, and behind it, outside, a streetlight shining -- and it glows, its wings luminous white near its body, and a still radiant gray as it spread out.
And the next day -- it does indeed rain. (Beautiful rain!) And as it goes by and the western sky is turned a solid mass of peach-colored cloud -- to the east, a rainbow rise up from a valley, arching a little into the sky until finally, high up, it dissolves into the gray.