versatile.

Have you ever visited our garden? No? Well, I decided that you should on Saturday evening, so I headed out with camera in tow. You'll thank me, I'm sure.

Before I made it there, however, I noticed my furry li'l friend, Oliver, who absolutely adores the ground I walk on and hurries to me with glee at the very sound of my melodious voice. Watch this-

"Oliver!"

"Ollie?"

"Olliieeeee?!"

If I close my eyes, I can't see her. Therefore she can't see me... 

Odd logic, but I wouldn't be a bit surprised if those were the thoughts running through his mind. Not much but fluff between those ears--oh, but you did not hear that from me.

I have the sneaking suspicion sometimes that he fancies himself Mufasa. Don't quote me on that either though, for I have no proof as of yet.

The rope swing in the side yard and the tractor tires the younger siblings have been using to jump off--I might have used it, too. And see that nice li'l spot behind the tires where the shadow is--right, right over there? I used that spot the other evening to sit with my notebook and scribble novel ideas in the fading light.

It was awesome.

Oh, by the way, keep thoughts of tractor tires locked away in your sub-cranium for now. You'll be meeting them again shortly.

 

Do you hear that? The strains of Handel Messiah's Hallelujah Chorus that began to play as we scrolled down to this photo? So fitting, too. At moments like these, when the setting sun is casting deep shadows on the picket fence and arbor, it's easy to imagine stepping through the portal and finding yourself in another world.

Or you might find yourself in our front yard with a plowed up field directly in front of you. It just depends.

Oh, well, look who's here! Isn't this the guy that wouldn't give me the time of day a few minutes ago? I thought it was. There's no mistaking that furry form.

Hey, Ollie, you want to go inside, dontcha? Dontcha? Hmmm?

Well, forget it. I'm not going in yet. You'll survive, I'm sure. Go amuse yourself by daydreaming about 'The Lion King' or something.

I love these two.

Look! Up there! So graceful, so majestic, quite resembling a ballerina of the sky.

Around here, we call it a cowbird.

And now we visit (drum roll) the...Tractor Tire Garden! For the past few years, Dad and Wesley have put quite a bit of work into this, so I expect to hear the appreciative oohs and ahhs from the readers.

But ignore the tires for a moment, however novel they may be. See my shadow waving to you? Well, don't be rude--say hi. ;)

To be perfectly honest here, you and I are about seeing this season's crop for the first time together. The garden really isn't my jurisdiction, so I don't head out there much.

Maybe it's due to the fact that I don't have a green thumb on either appendage at the end of my arms.

I do have a turquoise thumb, though. It's really pretty.

However, it's yet to be uncovered what you can grow with one. Maybe you know?

Quite awesome, no? I think I, I mean, they should be featured in Better Homes and Gardens magazine, I really do.

As I was stepping over tires, Dad says, "Hey, Erin, have you seen our strawberries?"

My response: "We have strawberries?!"

I really should get out more.

Aw, they're just babies, ripening and maturing until they're all grown up and ready for eating.

 While most of the garden is housed in tractor tires, there are exceptions. Here is one example of our motto, "No tire is too small to roll in and help." Catchy, ain't it?

Just pause and think for a moment of the many miles this tire has traveled, helping to plow rivers of chocolate colored dirt over and over again. Even in retirement, it is still doing the best it can to make the world a better place.

Wow. You just give so much of yourself. A true inspiration. May we all strive to learn to be as versatile and self-sacrificing as a tractor tire.

Did I mention that I love these two?

As I made my way to the back door, a certain feline friend decided to join me yet again. I lowered my camera for a few more shots and--

 

--His dreams of being Mufasa came to fore and he raised his proud mane as though surveying his pride.

Oliver, I regret to inform you that the blade of grass in your face kind of kills the look. Sorry.