The plant life is still pretty sleepy around here. I wonder just how much impact the less-than-normal snow plus our dry spring has had on the slow appearance of local flora. I took a few photos on the weekend of some of the almost timidly awakening plant life.
Lilac buds from the large bush in the back ... so fragrant when mature ...
The crabapple tree, which year after year yields just bitter fruit, but that doesn't stop the dogs from sampling, just as reliably.
One of the earliest flowering perennials, I think it's a lung wort.
I can't stay on top of the relentless buds from these pretty yellow flowers all over my lawn. I waffle between wanting to obliterate them and embracing them, their numbers seem so overpowering at times. Thankfully, they stick around only a relatively short period.
On Friday, I brought home a lovely miniature rose bush that my boss had given me. It was over-run with flowers in all stages, tiny little green budlings to fully open blooms. You can only see a couple in this picture.
While I was working in the yard on Sunday, I took it outside to get some direct sun; the temps are still too risky to plant it. I left it in a protected corner on the bench that runs the border of the deck. A few of the dogs were out, and minding their own business with a rope or some other toy.
Or so I thought ...
I went out a bit later, didn't see the potted rose bush where I had left it, but did see some dirt scattered. I had thought "somebody" must have knocked it over. I only wish ...
When I picked up my little rose bush, there wasn't a single flower left. Not one solitary bloom. Neat as can be, each flower had been sharply cropped from it's stem. Each and every one. I could only stand there with the pot in my hands, and looking around for who could have done such a thing. It didn't take long before I spied the two buds who looked the guiltiest. And they didn't say a word in their defence.