The first tomato of the year has appeared, on the plant I helped to survive over winter. It's only the size of a shooter marble, but looks like a variety that will get larger than a cherry tomato. I'm looking forward to seeing it mature, and hope that all the other little yellow flowers on this plant will soon produce fruit as well. The three tomato seedlings I purchased, and one grown from seed started in February, are also beginning to bloom, as are the blackberries. On a recent weekend afternoon, I watched their fragile white petals unfurl among the luxurious leafy growth of the bush under our front window.

The air is increasingly aromatic around my yard, as roses continue to open, sage is bolting, and the honeysuckle by our driveway now has golden flowers that attract pollinators. It's near the sidewalk, and as I walked out to my car one morning, a terrier was leaping at a butterfly hovering around the honeysuckle, while a person walking the dog smiled patiently.

Many of the plants in my garden are commonly seen in this part of California, and were part of the landscape before I moved in 18 years ago. Apparently these daisies, geraniums, ferns, ivy, and fuchsias can survive for years (especially now that I know what their water, soil and sun preferences are). So I tend to take them for granted. But on the past few weekends, between basking in the sun with my book and going inside to cool down, I've strolled around to examine oft-overlooked geraniums and ferns.

Most of the seeds I planted in spring have sprouted at this point, and some (such as spinach) seem to be growing more quickly than in past years, thanks in part to applications of Envii fertilizers. I'm still waiting on the morning glories however. I'll give these another week to do something, and if there aren't sprouts by then, will try again with soaking and perhaps pre-germinating additional seeds.