The bulbs are the harbingers of spring, but Bleeding Heart is one of those flowers that says full on, unequivocal Spring is here. This one has gotten bigger over the years, survived a move, and gotten even bigger. It’s almost big enough to look nice in a photo, but somehow the camera still doesn’t capture how much I enjoy those arching sprays of little pink cardioids.
I don’t think it’s sheltered any doomed fledglings lately. Or at least the evil cat hasn’t gotten too interested in it. He stares at piles of dead leaves, not live ones. That I know of. Hmm. I wonder what he’s up to?
Writing Every Day 