Spring in bloom.

The culture of sharing is one thing I love about gardening. This David Austin rose joined the Garden Laboratory last year when it was gifted to me by AK. I look forward to seeing it bloom in its new home next to an unlikely garden-bed partner, an evergreen.

Victory! Just before the hard frost last fall, I planted the tulip bulbs. It was a good strategy. These tall white beauties escaped the usual urban critters. I think I will plant even more in the upcoming autumn.

An edible food source, who knew? The red cones on the Acrocona Norway Spruce from my Garden Laboratory are visually arresting.

A bald eagle seen spreading its wings and soaring high, reclaiming the word “roam” from the cellphone companies.

Risks lurking around the bend.

This breathtaking West Coast landscape will be interpreted with needle and thread. The island in the background became invisible by the falling snow.

Before the snowfall.

A creek in the deep forest gently tunes out the noisy chatter broadcasting from my stream of consciousness. It’s not easy to travel across this bush. I stop and consider my options as I take in the surroundings. Presence.

My gaze follows the tributary that is forming irregular pools across the landscape. The soil beneath my feet is accommodating and porous. The sucking noise tells me to back off; I fear the bog will consume my Australian footwear. That would be uncomfortable and awkward, there are many more miles to go.

This is the beginning of gathering raw material for inspiration for future hand-embroidered landscape tapestries.

The rocky shore that I am standing on will be submerged by the ocean again. This awareness incites equal parts wonder and fear. To a city dweller like me the coast is a regular shapeshifter. At my feet, a delicate pool of unfamiliar life-forms.

As in huge, massive, enormous, gigantic, giant, mammoth, immense, monumental, titanic, towering; it is all that and more.