It looked like the Fourth of July in my backyard because my rose, called the Fourth of July, broke out in glorious bloom for the first time this spring.

It’s been a struggle in Ashvegas and the surrounding mountains because a late cold snap really fried the tender buds on trees and flowers.

The late freeze killed my ancient, giant rosemary. The thing looked like a tree, and I would just bury my face in it to languish in the scent. I’ve heard from several folks that the freeze did in their rosemary bushes, young and old.

But the roses are doing well. My Kennedy is in bloom, as is my Don Juan (pictures tomorrow of that baby). My berry bushes, which I covered up during the cold spell, are covered in white blossoms.

Meanwhile, the Abraham Darby has its first scented petals making an appearance. The perfume is glorious on this one (as well as the Don Juan).

The dependable iris are going at it.

And a couple of little poppies keep popping up.

Today was hot and hazy in the mountains. Felt like full-on summer. I think the temps will dial-back for a nice weekend.

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