D.O.P.-T.

Today I can see six gladioli spears pushing out of the soil, and something—maybe not potatoes—in the potato bed. And one morning glory there, to add to all those in the gladioli bed. And it's the season when at least one dandelion manages to form a clock in the lawn before I notice it. The dog lay companionably near me while I was making my mid-month blót, rubbing her tummy distractingly on the grass.

( The much neglected bushes in the bed in front of the house have flowered. )