How to have a plethora of gardenias annually

Step 1: Plant a small gardenia bush.

Step 2: Do nothing.

Step 3: Wait.

Step 4: Let nature take its course.

Step 5: Wait some more. Continue to do nothing.

Step 6: Wait even more. Eventually you will be rewarded with a plethora of gardenias.

Here's the plethora from a slightly different angle:

Step 7: The multitudinous blossoms née plethora will eventually wilt, fade, turn brownish, and drop off the bush. But the fragrance with which your garden has been filled is worth all the mess.

Step 8: Wait a year and repeat the sequence beginning at Step 2.

The photographs in this post were taken over the course of about a week and a half.

Signs of the season

Last month our daughter sent Mrs. RWP a beautiful bouquet for Mothers Day. The flowers lasted a long time. I call this view "Side A":

In the background on the left you can see a mauve sectional sofa. It is being picked up and taken away today by a charitable organization's thrift shop to make room for some new living room furniture that we ordered the day before our 53rd anniversary.

I call this view "Side B":

In the background on the left you can see our piano. In the background on the right you can see the organ that was given to us a couple of years ago.

About the time the flowers from our daughter were beginning to droop, the gardenia bush by the patio was just beginning to bloom:

A few days later there were a few more gardenias:

Now the bush is blooming its guts out. Mrs. RWP says that is its way of thanking me for saving its life last winter when I covered it with a sheet several times to protect it from nights below freezing. We have "dead-headed" the old blooms more than once, but they continue in profusion.

My 87-year-old neighbor Rube (that's his name) has spent several years terracing the hill in his back yard, building stairways, and planting many, many plants. Rube works very, very hard. This is the view from my bedroom window:

A closer look reveals that the plants are either mountain laurel or rhododendron:

Spring is also afghan-crocheting time at our house. It has been that way for three years now and will remain that way for three more years as our grandchildren graduate from high school and begin university. Mrs. RWP decided to make an afghan for each graduate in the colors of the school each chooses to attend. In Spring 2014, Elijah's colors were red and black:

In Spring 2015, Matthew's colors were blue and white:

This year, Spring 2016, Noah's colors happen to be black and gold. If I do say so myself, I am getting better at photographing afghans with each passing year.

I thought about calling this post "Potpourri, continued" but I liked "Signs of the season" better.

Spring is moving right along and soon summer will be icumen in. You know what that means.

Lhude sings cuckoo.