After a few warm, not hot, but very sultry days, yesterday a breeze came up and brought a change in the weather: slightly cooler--still warm--and drier, and the sky blue not pale smoggy gray. Good; and there's also rain in the forecast, which will water the garden after a rainless spell, naturally if it happens.

It's the season of foliage, and thanks to weeks and weeks of rain in mid- and late spring, the leafage is abundant. The garden around the house, where I've been spending most of my time lately given the stressful weather, is bursting: phlomis getting up to two meters; the column of pruned bay laurel reaching further into the yard (what yard?); the elderberry, which I prune most falls, reaching eagerly out with its new growth and smothering less determined plants.

Unusual, and due to the rare late precipitation, is rebloom on a number of roses where I'm not used to seeing it, or not this much or in this season. Traditionally the roses have flowered in mid- (warm climate kinds) or late (most of the once-bloomers) spring; this year a very warm winter caused the warm climate roses to bloom in March. This early flowering, plus the abundant late rains, has triggered a modest second flowering in June; and, since temperatures have yet risen to boiling, the flowers are not too bad for quality, or at least, they're not frying (looking at you, 'Clementina Carbonieri'). 'Cl. Etoile de Hollande' has flowers, 'Souv. de Mme. Leonie Viennot' and 'Cl. Papa Gontier' (I wonder if this variety is correct, as it doesn't resemble its sport parent at all) are nursing a few blooms, and 'Jaune Desprez' has a tolerable second flowering going on, right where I can see it out my bedroom window. Wonderful 'Archduke Joseph' and the other Teas have a fair scattering of blooms

I know that many of these roses are good rebloomers, but, since I don't irrigate and our traditional weather pattern has been for dry weather beginning in late spring and going through the summer, they mostly bloomed in spring and fall, if the rains restarted early enough. Which was fine with me, but the current roses are a pleasant anomaly.

I love shade. I love shade, and we're getting more of it around the house as the years pass. The wisteria on the pergola in front of the house, butchered back for foundation work two years ago, is almost back to its former mass, and the great mound of green is going to stay until fall when we no longer need its cooling. The pergola extension that we wrapped around the east side of the house is getting nicely taken over by 'Jaune Desprez', which was outgrowing its balcony, and by the Virginia creeper that had been growing up the side of our next building over. The cluster of three palms, Trachycarpus fortunei, is growing about a foot a year, also fruiting madly--it's starting to be reported as invasive in southern Germany, and I believe it--and then there are the numerous roses on various pergolas, the ever-growing one-time Christmas tree, the persimmon, a beautiful tree, in front of the house, the two young laburnums and the Viburnum x burkwoodii I planted to replace the clothesline in our front yard, as the heat was unbearable, and so on.

I'm busy with cutting back and cleanup, of course, and of course it's a pain, but then, look at all that organic matter. In 2017, after a horrible summer, we planted a double line of mostly fruit trees along the tractor road going from the house down to the shade garden and beyond. They were for shade and because I wanted some fruit trees close to the house, but we dug the holes out with pick and shovel because we were planting on a rock shelf, and ever since I've been mulching the trees with all the organic waste I could get hold of. This year they're growing vigorously, so much so that I had to prune them back a bit from the road. This year's strange weather has variously affected fruit crops. Our sweet cherries hardly fruited, as neither did anybody else's to judge by prices at the store; apricots did well (we don't grow them: too iffy), peaches, nectarines, and plums are way ahead of season (we have only a plum, which is easy), while the outcome of our several figs is in doubt: they've set fruit, but seem to be having trouble ripening it. The mulberry is happy. Time will tell.