Olives

It was a sparkling, brisk morning after yesterday's rain. The trees had lost their dusty pallor and Spring Lake was reflecting the blue sky in its calm surface. I wish I could say the same for Blake who was positively vibrating with interest in other dogs, other people, ducks and swans on the water and the water itself. I abandoned trying to get Blake to walk at my pace, look at me and keep a 'slack lead', running to keep up with him and trying to anticipate when he would throw himself in enthusiastic though often unwelcome greetings when he saw another dog. Stopping for a macro shot as we hurtled ourselves around the lake was out of the question.

By the time I got home, sensation was returning to my arms and hands,  the sun was reaching the garden, and I took my time with my camera set on macro. The succulent ground cover sparkled with last evening's raindrops. The euphorbia unfurled itself, fractal fashion.  The last coneflower and the little Japanese maple provided shots of color. But I finally chose the olives, still quite small, but ripening nicely under their dusky coats.

It remains to be seen what will be done with them. Curing olives seems a daunting challenge, but nothing ventured, nothing gained.