This time of year everything seems to turn yellow. Well, I don’t mean everything. I don’t turn yellow, and neither does my person. And the rocks around here don’t turn yellow. But there are bushes everywhere with little yellow flowers on them.
There’s so many that I have to sort through them just to get to the good weeds.
.
.
.
And I have to sit around while my person takes out her camera to take pictures of them.
I thought this time of year was going to be so good. No more thunder and no more heat. Who would have thought that little yellow flowers would be my downfall? I think I’ll bury my person’s camera under a log.













































