Pines and Petals

The rain has caused the garden to instantly spring back into life.  It's quite magical to sit with a cup of Earl Grey or Rose and Vanilla tea of an afternoon post-commute and survey the sheer splendour of succulent shoots stretching out their tendrils and new leaves glowing a brilliant green in the setting sunlight.  The garden seems to have taken a big breath in and a long refreshed sigh out, letting its hair out in the process.  Speaking of luscious locks, the grass has also shot up again and returned to its former glory, quickly crowding out the bare patches that were coalescing to form one large brown mat in the January heat.  The drone of lawn mowers can now be heard echoing from backyards in the afternoon and on weekends.

Another two surprises greeted me this week.  I had given up hope of any pineapples producing this year despite their age (two years for most of them) and having had one last year, however, upon checking the plants that had nearly grown half their size again since the rain, I spied the reddish tinge and tiny spines signalling the formation of fruit.  The top that this has grown from is a twin.  While the other hasn't produced as yet, I'm hopeful that it will soon begin to flower also.  Even better if they manage to stagger themselves so that we aren't overwhelmed with too much tangy pineapple at once.

One of my favourite flowers has gone beserk after the rain - living up to its names 'Storm Crocus' and 'Rain Lily.'  The blooms nod gently in the breeze under the lemon tree.  One day I hope to divide them sufficiently that the delightful display features under all my citrus in the more formal part of the garden (the front orchard).  They complement the Murraya (paniculata) which has also sprung into glorious white bloom and wafts its scent through the house at night.

Please excuse the rampant lawn - it has since been tamed by the roaring mower beast.