The Garden
When we moved from our place in Indiana, everyone always asked us what we missed most. Although friends and family top the list, a close second, for me, has always been my old garden.
We planned and planted and it was beautiful, but there is nothing like a mature garden. I missed getting any fruit from the trees and seeing the tiny vines grow to become huge and wandering. So the next step for us here, after the house, was a garden.
I’m not talking about veggies in a row. I’m talking about veggies and flowers and fruits all jumbled up together, always on the verge of being out of control. I always wanted to be able to walk around my own front yard and graze on whatever happens to be in season. My flowers grow together, not in neat little groups, but all in a bunch like a bouquet ready to be picked.
I admit that I’m a terrible weeder (much to the dismay of my husband) – I even hate the word weed. After all, every plant has a name and a purpose. Some days it seems that my garden had become a battlefield for a seemingly unending war against invading plants, but then winter comes and then spring never comes and I am happy with any green life at all.
I plan to see this garden to maturity, and grow with it and adjust it from time to time.
When you pass thru my garden gate, I want you to feel at ease and comforted.
