The summer solstice is upon us again, a great time to wander the garden with gratitude for nature’s gifts. I appreciate the warm, rich soil and the wonders that emerge from it. Tiny seeds grow up to be plants, shrubs, and trees, providing shelter, food, oxygen, and, for many of us, a place for quiet reflection and joy.

Here are some of the simple pleasures outside our door.

Our 15-year-old grafted fruit tree once produced four types of fruit. For several years now, production has been limited to apricots and plums, and with an active squirrel population traveling the highway known as our back fence, most of the fruit is partially eaten and tossed to the ground for night critters to feast on.

This summer is different. My youngest son is home for a time, along with his sweet pooch, a playful, burly husky/shepherd mix. Mike has a theory that the squirrels are steering clear of the dog.

To our astonishment, the tree is heavy with ripening fruit, which should be ready for picking next month.

We have a few raspberries growing in the shade of the same tree, which are melt-in-your-mouth good.

The tomato plants we bought earlier in the season are beginning to pump out green fruit. Homegrown tomatoes are the best. We have a beefsteak tomato plant in a small sun area and a cherry tomato growing near the nepeta.

The annual sweet peas came and went quickly this season, but it all worked out since I needed to make room for the established Russian sage. Every year, someone asks if they can have some seeds. When I pulled out the last vines, I left a pile along our walkway for neighbors to help themselves. I’ll send what’s left in a week to the composter.

Pink gladiolas populated the front and back gardens this year. I planted several in our curb garden last fall, feeling proud of myself for getting them into the ground on time. Then, the City of San Jose said my curbside planting box was a “safety hazard,” so when we applied for a new tree permit, they tagged the curb garden and told me it had to go. It’s a different story for another day. The gladiola bulbs have turned up in several places and are making a lovely show.

Throughout the garden, seasonal volunteers spread into empty spaces, including a single sunflower and a handful of purple nigella. Several plants are comingling with die-hard nasturtiums trailing up the salvia and just out of reach of the fruit tree.

A nasturtium with wanderlust traveled up a small table in between the slats. Nearby, an ambitious tomato plant grew out of the sides of the compost bin.

As the sun set, I took these last few shots, casting a yellow glow across the pittosporum. Summer has arrived in San Jose.