Tribute to my Neighbor's Mimosa

I don't know this neighbor except by sight and that he stands in his driveway and talks on his cell phone in the summer. And why not; it's very pleasant in the yard. He and his partner plant a lot of flowers in their front yard each year. They are a bit adventurous in their choices, which is fun for all the rest of us as we watch these unusual plants grow up. This year they were relatively conservative and planted bunches of bold, yellow marigolds, but so pretty! Their most magnificent display, though, is this fabulous mimosa tree, and this year, nurtured by perfect conditions, it has bloomed more beautifully, longer and more abundantly than ever. The birds are thick in it. Every morning there's a mockingbird nearby, singing his crazy choruses. This morning, I saw wee bits of birds flitting through its branches, possibly attracted to insects attracted to the nectar, but possibly attracted themselves to the blossoms. When I'm coming home from a morning walk, I can smell the sweet fragrance of its flowers three or four houses away. This picture doesn't do justice to the ethereal quality of the mimosa's blossoms, nor, of course, to the sweet smell. (The next neighbors, as might be discernible, are Obama supporters. That makes our neighborhood the only enclave--two whole households--in Kansas voting for Obama.)

In addition to the fragrance of my neighbor's mimosa, this is the other sign that I'm nearly home from my walk, this clump of pink at the end of my driveway, which I can see from a great distance. Despite our most flagrant neglect, these phlox continue to spread and bloom every year.