A walk at the gardens

 First I'll show you all I saw along the walk, but not the gardens themselves!

First I drove by these beautiful blossoms, perhaps a vine against the old tree, or maybe the tree itself?

I tend to vote on the smaller tree being the source of the blossoms. Such beauty when people live in a sad looking home. But perhaps for them it is beautiful.

I took the smaller circuit of the gardens today...with welcoming daffodils.

Just past this bush is the welcoming sign for the community gardens.

I will be curious to see what berries grow here.

Someone has provided some colorful sidewalk art. I skipped the benches here, thinking there was one up ahead by the river. Sadly it is gone. So I walked without any respite, besides frequent photo taking!

Already the undergrowth blocks good views of the Swannanoa River...where it looks like a tree has fallen across the river.

Someone made a little path down to the water, and I was able to more clearly see the fallen tree.

Someone was kind enough to build a bee hotel...for any bugs that like little crevices in which to "hole up."

Turning away from the river path, I started to go uphill again, past the shed for tools for the gardens.

I've never seen a bird house like this one on the right, but it does have that configuration. I was constantly serenaded by tiny birds, one of whom was a bluebird...they all flew very fast.

The little purple flowers were all over these little plants. I know the name, just can't think of it.

A few violets were blooming, as well as tiny blue flowers.

I was totally out of breath when I finally returned to my car. But I'd done it! My aching muscles told me I'd worked them out. And I hadn't had a coughing fit! I was so happy. Next to have lunch and download the photos for the blog!! (I'll show the garden plots soon!)

Today's quote:

The animal shall not be measured by man. In a world older and more complete than ours, they move finished and complete, gifted with extension of the senses we have lost or never attained, living by voices we shall never hear. They are not brethren; they are not underlings; they are other nations, caught with ourselves in the net of life and time, fellow prisoners of the splendor and travail of the earth. -Henry Beston, naturalist and author (1 Jun 1888-1968)