Trimming Mrs. Kravitz's Bush

Our orange dahlia is blooming...

...as are our stargazer lilies. 

But the big news in our garden yesterday was this:

See that limb lying on the ground behind Olga? Well, Mrs. Kravitz and I actually cooperated on a garden project! That limb is from her pyracantha bush, which she had sculpted into a fairly neat oval ball next to her fence, except for one renegade branch that was growing up from the back and into our walnut tree. Yesterday I asked if I could cut it off. She enthusiastically said yes (she loves cutting anything down) and said her own gardener had been unable to reach it, which is why it had grown to such ridiculous lengths.

I got out the saw and removed it. You can't really appreciate its size -- it's easily six feet tall and it almost filled two yard waste bags by itself.

(Oh, and yes, that is my lunch lying next to Olga, or the remains of it, anyway. I'd been sitting next to her reading when I heard Mrs. K in the garden and got started on this project. I did eventually eat the carrot. I set my glasses on the plate so I wouldn't step on them.)

So, yes, I trimmed Mrs. Kravitz's bush. (The joke had to be made.) Then I trimmed the shrubbery beside our front steps and tied back all the valerian, because Mrs. Russia has been grousing about how the plants are overgrowing the steps. That landscaping is a bit out of control, I admit, but technically the front garden is the landlord's responsibility so we don't really mess with it.

Afterwards, Dave and I took Olga to the cemetery, where we saw:
 

...a six-spot burnet! I've been watching for them all summer. They usually come out in late June or early July, so I was glad to finally see one.

Now Dave is off to Seattle for a music educators' conference -- he left this morning. (And he just texted me to say he accidentally departed wearing the dog-walking shoes. Fortunately he has other footwear in his suitcase.) It's me and Olga on our own until next weekend. I'm actually looking forward to some alone time, and a chance to eat simply and watch the TV shows that Dave doesn't like ("Bosch: Legacy").

Did you see that Jane Birkin died? I watched her just a few days ago in "Blow-Up." When I lived in Florida, back in the late '90s, I often listened to a community radio station in the car when I drove home for lunch. A deejay on that station always concluded his lunchtime show by playing "Je T'aime...Moi Non Plus," the record Birkin made with Serge Gainsbourg in 1969 in which she moans breathily and pre-orgasmically. I will always associate that song with driving in sunny Florida, the air conditioner blasting.