Susan brought us gifts. She brought flowers to a gardener and a photographer of gardens. Wow! Unlike any flower we had in our gardens. The giver brought a special flower. But the point is not that the flower was different. The point is that it was a gift. Family is a gift. Faith is a gift. Friends are gifts. A simple day changed by a gift is truly a blessing. Every day can be changed by gifts and givers.

It's been a month since my surgery. The good news is that the pathology report reveals that the cancer was wholly contained in the prostate and the surgeon is confident that he removed all the cancer. When I return to his office in another month, I hope that the blood test confirms that I am a cancer survivor. I am so appreciative for the many prayers and notes of encouragement. It is good to know that the journey was not a solitary one. Thank you.

The magnolia tree in our backyard is reblooming as are a number of our daylilies. It's my hope that here in mid-August in a tumultuous year that we all might have an opportunity to rebloom.

Tucked into a corner of the garden are a few coneflowers, not many, just this red variety. The plant has been blooming for a while, but the sun this morning accented the various stages of growth in this single plant. I am glad that I saw it because it has been a stressful time, not just for me, but for all of us. My surgery is this coming Monday and I am hopeful that I will begin the road to recovery. I am not so optimistic about the national approach to the spread of the coronovirus. But I dwell among hopeful people.

The doctor said there was good news. No cancer in your bones or lymph nodes. But in describing the cancer he used the word "aggressive" too many times. I wake up early morning. I look at the clock and again it is way too early. Dark outside. And before long my mind clicks on, I have cancer. The first week I found it hard to believe it. I wondered what the future looked like. My mother died because of cancer just 5 years ago. I made the journey with numerous church friends. I remember so clearly being speechless when "Dite" said he had cancer. I loved him. And I had nothing. He wasn't the first. He certainly wasn't the last. Nor am I.

I have prayer partners everywhere. And family and friends who are so dear to me that our relationship transcends words. So what happens now?

The reality is I have cancer. And I have an appointment with an exceptional surgeon in a world-class facility in the midst of a pandemic. But I am filled with hope. And peace. Veterans of this surgical procedure have given me details of their journey. And I can do it too. And I could ask for no one who cares for me more than Judy. Life is truly good. And I have years of moments ahead to be amazed at what I see.

In addition to all the daylilies in our yard, Judy is growing Stokes Aster this year in several places. The bloom is a large, wonderfully fringed purple flower. This last week as I was painting the deck I noticed how these flowers begin to unfold. This round ball will soon open to a new glorious expression. This morning I will be having a biopsy that I have been waiting to have performed since I received MRI results three months ago, nearly to the day. The nationwide precautions regarding COVID-19 caused the fusion biopsy to be cancelled twice. So I have waited for these past three months to receive information about something that I would have liked to ignore. I have been hoping that the matter can be cared for as I have no symptoms that indicate a possible issue. So little has been normal this spring: abundance of rain, ordering groceries online, seeing friends and family on FaceTime, going to church on Facebook Live, attending Sunday School on Zoom, watching the economy crater, and unrest in the nation over issues of racial injustice. So waiting has been a challenge. I have a tan, as usual since I have retired with a private pool. I have photographed everything that has bloomed in our garden. I have read, watched too much TV, and eaten just the right amount of chocolate. And I hope. Just as this flower is about reveal the reason for the waiting. May I experience release or be given patience as I celebrate whatever days are ahead.

As I was looking at this morning's photos of daylilies, I saw the outline of a strange object on one of the petals, and then over-exposed the image to see the insect more clearly.

Then I cropped the image to zero in on the bug and found something I have never seen. What is this?

So this is Himmelman's Plume Moth. I'm not certain that it is a welcome visitor in our daylily garden. http://www.cirrusimage.com/Moth_Himmelmans_Plume.htm

Not fine art. Although a photographer friend claims this is a wide category, especially if I tweak it in some processing program and add a texture. Rather this is an iPhone photo, close-up of the butterfly on our patio door. Just a moment one morning last week. Just fun.

Judy was surprised in the garden this week by one of the residents in the yard. I hope this snake eats moles, although this day the snake was spending more time in trees than on the ground.