The wind-driven torrential rain last night transformed the street into a rivulet, washing all of the storm's debris down the hill with it. Thus, there really isn't much to clean up, at least in the front garden.
In the rear shade garden, I needn't fall back on that law of succession as I mused yesterday, for time continues. A Pieris japonica did suffer some severed limbs as a dead tree branch fell upon it, and a few hostas and ferns were crumpled by clumps of leaves clinging to small branches. But the garden fared well.
And as a sign of wellness (we need such significations, don't we?), Rose Mallow, nearly prostrate at the height of the storm but now managing to upright herself, issued a proud, vibrant flower this morning: a flash of color in an otherwise grey landscape.
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