Happy Plumeria, above.
We went to the super market for bleach, cheese, pineapple juice, and suchlike. On the way, patient Beloved pulled over several times so I could gawk at plants. Happy, happy Plumeria. I killed the Plumerias I tried. Admittedly I didn't try that hard. I don't like them in winter, when they are leafless. This particular ridiculously happy Plumeria has been planted at a house a couple of miles from here ever since I can remember. It is trimmed down every few years to check its size.
The homeowners removed the lawn this year, and simply left it bare. They also added a couple of small trees. I imagine they are waiting for autumn to do whatever it is they are going to do.
The Happy Plumeria looks particularly fabulous this year. Was it the warm nights, the two generous summer rains we got, or both? It grows in a planter about 2 feet wide. Plumerias don't have extensive root systems.
Happy, happy Plumeria.
I picked a fallen flower out of the gutter. Still deliciously fragrant.
Across the road, a violet Bougainvillea has eaten an Cupressus sempervirens. Happy, happy.
Another Plumeria down the street from the Cupressus-eater.
A youngling, only seven or eight feet (2.4 m) tall. (The wall is five).
This looks to be the Plumeria of which the previous one is a cutting. Even bigger.
Across the road, a front garden recently de-lawned, with gravel and a few succulent plants. Ulmus parvifolia (Lacebark Elm) is the large tree. This was a very popular tree at one time in Southern California. Its fast growth and eventual mature size put a lot of tree trimmer's children through college. The cost of ownership made their popularity decline.
Interesting little border there, pieces of rusting steel held in place with rusting pipe sections, the pipe filled with concrete. Draped over it, Rosemary.
And yet another Parkinsonia 'Desert Museum'.
Onward, to admire a Lantana-laden hellstrip. If they were to mow it to the ground once a year, and tolerate a few weeks of cropped stems, it could looking this good for years. Unfortunately, most people just Lantana planted as a ground cover, which forms an increasingly thick layer of dead material topped with one layer of green. It eventually becomes a hedge. But today, pretty.
Casual rock border. I'm still thinking about edging the front slope. Maybe I won't.
Diagonal to the Wilma Flintstone necklace, Thuja occidentalis, here commonly called Arborvitae, has formed a 10' hedge on one side of the walkway and a buzzed undulating block on the other.
Closer to home, a couple of plastic lawns. Pretty design, plastic lawn really unecessary.
A couple of gorgeous Zamias in here amidst all the other stuff.
Another one. This was a big, big lawn. They undoubtedly wanted to save some money on water. Because there is a small hedge along the sidewalk, for those driving along, it's easy to mistake this plastic grass for the real thing.
They made the lawn smaller by adding a strip of Myoporum groundcover. Edging isn't well done. The trees are mostly Lagerstroemia 'Natchez' but there's a concrete-buckling, pipe-clogging Ficus in there, too. And some European white birch, short-lived here.
This property is meticulously maintained and cared for. Of course, next door...
...looks like this. Isn't that always the case?
Around the corner was this. I loved the house more than the garden (the photo doesn't show its charm), but the way the light is fractured by the trees, it made a beautiful moment of morning light and shadow.
That is what we saw in the neighborhood this morning, on our way home from the super market. Beloved's patience is vast.