Warm and hazy. My partner gets out her secateurs to do battle with the neighbor’s wisteria, wiry tentacles stretching over the fence.
A piercing alarm. The faint odor of hot tar. The neighbor’s wisteria has begun to climb into an upstairs window, perhaps to escape the heat.
Overcast and cold. A wisteria vine, unable to bridge the gap to the next bush, has made a loop and doubled back on itself.
A wren sings in the garden of our Iranian neighbor, whose wisteria infiltrates the elder tree so that it blooms two ways at once.