Yesterday, my husband was out shopping as is his wont. Yes, he's the 'shopper' in this family. He's an inveterate 'errant-runner', he can always find reasons why it is necessary to run out and look after something, or get something that we absolutely need, from visits to the pharmacy, to the library, to Canadian Tire, or to a supermarket, and he never fails to bring home things he buys on impulse. To be fair, most of what he brings home represents what will eventually be used, whether it's a food item, a book or video, or an article of clothing, much less a household item.

Yesterday, after breakfast which followed our early morning ramble in the ravine, it was a run to the bank, then the Dollar store, and finally he dropped by a plant nursery that had advertised a special price on Hibiscus shrubs, and he bought one for me. When he arrived home, he directed me to the front door, to look out at the bench down the walkway, and there sat another Hibiscus shrub. I adore those plants, with their huge, beautiful blooms. But where to put it?

Ah, that's another story altogether. To find somewhere in one of the garden beds with enough room to host yet another plant. Shoe-horn it in, where, exactly? We'll have to mull that one over. Meanwhile, it and another of its type planted a month earlier, are blooming like mad. Our original, bought last year that delighted us with its huge pink blooms still hasn't matured the many flower buds it has grown sufficiently to open them, but it's hard at work on it.

Every day there's another reason to get out in the garden to tend to something there. For the most part it's weeding where required and judiciously cutting back where necessary. And, given that this is high summer and we've been thrust into quite a long heat spell of mostly 30C+ afternoons, the need to ensure that nothing dries out, equalling a lost plant. compels vigilance.

So I saunter about here and there, taking stock, secateurs in one hand, spade in another, trailing a compost bag after me, as Jackie and Jillie wander about after me and it, wondering why I'm so preoccupied and striving to catch my attention for a brief, stray pat here and there. Until they get tired of it all and it's time to invite them back into the house where they can cool off and I can continue my out-of-doors endeavours without stepping on one or another of them.

The garden phlox is beginning to bloom, the petunias are outperforming themselves, the Ladies Mantle flower stalks are beginning to look fairly peaked, the day lilies are still in perky bloom, the Monarda flowers look like bright flames, the begonias are as gorgeous as ever, the lobelia are managing to thrive, and the hosta foliage gleams in the sun. All's right in the gardener's world. Anticipation of the bright pink hydrangea heads to rival the already blooming white ones piques interest. The blue hydrangeas are hanging back, but the panicled ones are preparing their large blooms in real growth spurts.

The Morning Glories are beginning to wind their way steadily to fence tops. Their intrepid self-sowing has kept me busy plucking new shoots out of inconvenient growing places, leaving intact only those growing where they're wanted. With some exceptions relating to the seeds that have somehow materialized in the large urn atop the rock garden where Morning Glory seedlings have proliferated wildly. I decided to leave them in the urn alongside the geraniums and petunias I planted there months ago.