Hope Does Spring Eternal

So after a very long time, I have put up a new Bless Our Hearts Header and I can't figure out how to make it smaller. I mean, isn't it too big? I do have the settings on "shrink to fit" for that particular widget but I can't see any other options. 
Suggestions? 

Here we have the amaryllis in bloom. Such a fine flower. I still haven't gotten around to that bed and it is calling my name with a voice growing ever-louder. 
I will. I WILL attend to it. 
But today I wanted to work in the garden because the weather was so mild and beautiful. Yesterday's good rain really set things right, temperature-wise, although I know that won't last long. But while it's here- well, dance while the band is still playing. I really didn't get a whole lot done. I planted some tomato seedlings that were not big enough yet to put in the ground. Also, at some point, I lost a few of the markers indicating what types of tomatoes they were so if they do grow up to produce fruit (or is a vegetable?) we will have have the joy of being surprised. I pulled up the last of the mustard greens as well as the turnips. I cut the turnips free from their greens and have given them a light wash and put them in a bag in the refrigerator and I swear, I am going to try and pickle them. I thought I'd planted an amount of them this year that we could easily eat but of course I did not. My garden estimations of amounts are no more accurate than my cooking ones. More is always better, I always tell myself. 
Frequently, however, I am wrong about that. 
Mr. Moon has done a fabulous job this year, getting things planted. The rows are so very, very straight. It's all orderly and thriving and we have leaves for mulch which helps with keeping the moisture level higher and the weed level down. Now of course, as summer progresses, nature will blast us with the heat and the bugs and viruses and weeds to the point where all of the mulch and gentle tending and care will be for naught as will be the organic bug and disease control. We KNOW this but every year we go into the summer planting with such hope, such determination (this will be the best year ever!) and oh, how we congratulate each other on how terrific the garden looks as it begins to take hold, so much better than it did last year, and then slowly and painfully our hearts will be broken by Florida's unrelenting power to destroy that which we create and once again I will sigh and wonder how in the hell the early settlers here managed to grow enough to live on and know that they were a far better and sturdier species of human than I am. 
They didn't even have DEET.

But right now, for this moment in time on this cool day under this blue sky, the garden is a beautiful reminder that life wants to live, goddammit! With all its bursting heart and dirt-busting abilities, it wants to live. 

Look at this. 

Can you make any sense of what's going on here? 
Well, there is a pepper plant, which Mr. Moon planted on purpose, quite a few baby tomato plants, and a cucumber vine. 
When I saw this as I was planting my own seedlings I could not comprehend why Glen had planted all those tomatoes and a cucumber right there by the pepper. "Has the man lost his mind?" I thought. 

And then I realized that no, this was the area where we had cherry tomatoes growing last summer along with cucumbers, neither of which did shit but a few obviously grew mature enough to produce seeds which are now frolicking in the their very own tiny agricultural home. 

And you know we have to pull those tomatoes or the pepper will never grow. I may try to transplant the cucumber. Maybe the second year will be the charm. 
And despite all of my knowledge and experience of what is no doubt soon to happen to our almost perfect garden, I still find it almost too beautiful to bear. 

Here's the Japanese maple showing off under the afternoon sky. 

I can hear a Carolina wren telling the world, "You're sweet, you're sweet, you're sweet!" and a blue jay yelling at a cardinal. 

Pottery tomorrow. I swear I'm gonna get some pictures. 

Love...Ms. Moon