When you can’t see the flowers for the hay, breathe deep – The Denver Post

I consider myself an observant person. It’s a hazard of the profession, and my nature, that I’m perennially taking a close look at things, nose down — perhaps not as aggressively as the dogs — getting a load of the little details of the gardens in my yard and on our morning walk.

This year, it’s been tough — really tough — to suss out the loveliness emerging from the home beds. I should stipulate that my lot is basically a crop circle cut out open space encroaching from two sides, and that I am 100 percent grateful for the soaking rains that have made up for the pathetic winter snowfall. But holy cow, the hay that has sprouted as the result of my pollinator-friendly cultivation practices is out of control — so much so that if my town allowed it, I would adopt an actual cow to help with the mowing.

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