Of the many pleasures of our garden, the gentle NW spring days are one of the greatest. It rains…but this morning we threw towels onto the fabric seats of our patio set and had breakfast (softboiled egg in spaceman-with-helmet egg cup) on our flower plates with our little fat-kitteh salt shaker and beverage of our choice.

Wabash was in bloom—snow white, blue-veined, with an indigo fall and white beard, my father’s alltime favorite iris, and mine—and the new rhododendron (starts pink, goes peach and white) and the yellow iris and the autumn-orange azalea beside the stone lantern. The tulips are fading now, almost gone, but the English daisy is blooming; the red and the green Japanese maples are lush, close at pond-side, the red hawthorne that shadows the walk is so loaded with rain-soaked rose-colored blooms you have to dodge the drooping branches, the garden sparrows are singing their heads off in the hawthorne, and the sprinkle of rain is just making small rings on the pond.

Perfect temperatures. The koi want their breakfast. The rain picks up a little, and I shelter the salt-shaker while Jane hand-feeds them at pond-side.

We find the rain picking up a little more and we go inside just ahead of a shower that ripples the pond like hammered glass. It lasts, oh, three minutes, then settles back to a steady sort of drizzle, under which the koi swim looking for more breakfast.

We so love the garden!