Because my nearest aunt (in her lifetime quest for the status and domestic comforts reft from her at single-digit age) encouraged it, and because my father didn't want to spend money unnecessarily, my mother usually consulted my aunt for should-we-go-to-the-doctor medical questions. ( i'm fineish, no different from last month, but i have an idea )

The plants that the landscaper placed too close to a fence and that I was too ignorant to gainsay have been deformed variously for neighborly relations, now that those plants are tall enough to peek over. Leaving the resulting twigs where foot traffic would otherwise result in winter mud has been effective, so far. Tiny housemate considers it her duty to pull them apart somewhat, to the extent that she complains if I don't toss the cut branches her way. She's learned not to linger over the ones whose bark oils are dog-unfriendly, and whenever I use my thumbnails to strip drying bark, she complains again: just toss the stick!

The persimmon tree grew so much in response to the unusually wet spring that several branches became long and heavy by midsummer, apt to break---more lopping.

Most plants my height or shorter have been drifting towards sere yellow-brown, except the peony, which almost chose dormancy this year and has put up a hand-height of leaves. Self-seeded dill shoots have appeared again, thanks to the ants. Self-seeded California poppy has dried out for the season. Half the hydrangeas are the smallest they've been so far, between drowning in oxalis over winter and being too shaded by other plants since spring; the other half look much as they did last year. A neighbor's semi-myrtle, which smells similar to eucalyptus whenever I trim the overhang from my side of our fence, has sent up shoots more than a meter into my yard, including beneath one hydrangea. The latter may not last, since I try not to water that corner as a result.

The wisteria stub nudged a handful of green vines upwards, which tiny housemate tried showing me, then eating. (The eating was thwarted.) Last year, with a drier preceding winter, the wisteria stub was quiet. My struggles to find and discard wisteria seed pods before tiny housemate could poison herself were the prior fall, when she was a puppy. I suspect she was only showing me a new thing in the yard, not remembering the seed pods, but even hey-look is pretty cool from a dog when it's not something the dog has caused.