The Utah Saint

Sunday. It was an early start for me. It seems my body clock wants me to be up and awake by five with no questions asked. I caught the final stages of Monty’s journey on Flightradar, as his plane crossed the rocky bits of Nebraska, Wyoming and Utah before descending to land at Salt Lake City. A bit later, we received a tired but happy Snapchat to let us know he was well, had met up with Kenadee, and was enjoying the various local snack foods.

It was a beautiful day, hot and sunny. The garden is coming into full bloom and looks amazing now—azalea, phlox, heuchera, hydrangea, lungwort, and peony flowers are taking over from the fading wisteria. Herbs are growing with incredible speed. Vanessa spent much of the morning pottering around and pronounced the garden done, with nothing more we could add. In the evening, while eating our roast chicken, we had a sudden summer storm—followed by a mad scramble to bring in the garden cushions and the washing from the line. But the rain felt warm, almost tropical, and the air was heady with scents of flowers and petrichor.