There are flowers and then there are knitted flowers..

July.

The deep greens of summer don't get any deeper than now.

Driving along the long rural road from my house to Rt. 6, it's a foliage explosion. The road is a narrow, 2-lane affair with a one-lane bridge across a wandering creek about a mile from my
house. Houses peek out all along the way, but it's mostly woods and fields and more woods. Up and down and all around, the road twists and rolls, with sweet summer's lavishness so perfected it even spills out onto the street.

Low-flying birds of every variety soar crazily; sometimes coming within a hair's breath of my car. Flitting and floating in the air as if under an avian spell.

Through all the deep greens of grass and leaf, beyond the totality of the season's perfection, reflected in towering canopies of leafy naves, cathedral-like, in their glory, lie summer's crowning desire.

Wildflowers.

They are nature's jewels. Iridescent, multi-colored, dotting the landscape in sapphire, topaz, opal, ruby, amethyst, even ebony, protruding around corners, poking through fences and old outhouses, trailing along ditches, swaying boldly on the medians, usually always in bunches and bevy's, as if safety is in numbers.

Wild daisies with creamy faces, happy black-eyed susans, puffy cornflowers , golden yarrow, the occasional lupines, pretty purple coneflower, snowy yarrow, lush salvia, swaying tall green grasses, stately columbine, fields of wild lavender and pretty primroses, everywhere they are, and they are everywhere.

So, before I go off to Denmark, (my next knitting world stop), I'll post a few pics this weekend of my knitted flowers.

But, in the meantime, walk down the road and see what I mean!