Everyone knows better than to accept the stereotype of Mexico as cactusy desert--even if a nopal figures prominently on the flag. Even so, the profusion of wildflowers surprises me every year as the end of rainy season approaches.

Clouds darken our skies this morning. Fog curls around the Parroquoia. Expatriates complain. They say we might as well be living in England. Or the Pacific Northwest.

This season has been particularly wet. But look at what all that rain has done for us.

I've said it before. Scenes like this could be right out of Arizona Highways magazine. Except the photography would be better.

Blooms like this demand walking in the campo, camera in hand.

Flowers line pathways in El Charco del Ingenio as if they had been planted by an English cottage gardener. But Nature does the gardening here.

Wildflowers often appear small and insignificant. Not here, where they grow in great swathes.

Scores of varieties find niches. In last year's post on this subject, I identified some. But this year we have too many flowers, too little time. If you really want to know what these are, you can take the link above to find a great reference that will probably identify every flower presented here.

What variety! Sometimes, the eye is drawn to sweeping fields of blossoms; other times, to a few mixed blooms that form pleasing juxtapositions of colors.

Cultivars lack the charm of natural flowers, in my opinion. Tiny blossoms (and some not so tiny) exhibit a delicacy absent in the showy offerings of breeders.

I'm always on the lookout for new types. Perhaps a reader can identify this unusual bloom, found in waste land at the edge of town.

Sunflowers are the stars of the countryside. Sometimes they cover solid acres.

For my money, though, nothing beats a field of mirasols (cosmos). I don't know if they always grew here naturally or if they escaped from cultivation. But they are very much part of the Mexican landscape today.

A couple of years ago, I posted a picture of a big black cow chewing her cud in a field of mirasols. Last year, my model was Rosita, my Boston Terrier. This year I placed Paul (El Guapo) in a field, but I carefully controlled the depth of field so readers wouldn't have to endure the full impact of the contrast between the delicacy of the pink petals and... well... Paul.