Photo: Bella Foster
Photo: Bella Foster
The pictures are beautiful. All the gardens/flowers/photographs are for real people, no mansions, cultivated mazes, or things no one would ever think of attempting in their own space. Check it out.
I’m having a lot of work done on the outside of my house. The cedar is being patched and stained (the sparrows are out of the nest/walls now and the hole patched…admittedly they sounded sweet singing in my closet, but enough is enough). My tiny porch is being painted and some repairs are being made. The guy who is doing it, is someone my cousin uses all the time. She likes him, trusts him completely, and said that he incredibly honest and fair. Good enough for me and it would be for you too, if you knew my cousin. She does research and when I’m with her, I don’t think about anything because she is watching like a hawk, so I have fun and she keeps guard. It’s always been that way. She loves to watch, I love to play.
Anyway, my cousin is the farmer in the family. She plants food in her yard and seriously, I think a weed would be shaking in its leaves if it happened to pop up in her immaculate and huge yard. I haven’t seen her do it but it’s possible that she lays on the grass and cuts it with a ruler and tiny scissors.
My yard, on the other hand, is on it’s own. Completely out of control and I don’t do anything to it at all. Nothing. I tried to pull weeds and got poison ivy, which is, according to the guy working on my house, absolutely EVERYWHERE now. I’m taking that as a sign that I need to mind my own business and leave the garden alone.
I love my yard and my cousin loves hers. She closes her eyes when she looks at mine and immediately starts making lists of what I have to remove, add, or just kill. She knows I won’t do anything she tells me to to but she can’t help who she is anymore than I can help who I am.
So, the guy working on my house knows both of us. I told him she was going to tell me what to replant in front of my house where it’s so dark (because of my tree) that light itself wonders if there’s anyway it can possibly reach the ground. He said my cousin has a beautiful yard. I said, she certainly does and made tight little hand movements, explaining that everything was perfect and immaculate and just right and…well you get my drift. He said, “Yes, it’s beautiful but yours is wild,” and he smiled. He’s told me before how much he loves my yard. He’s funny because he’s young and when he first walked into the back yard he inhaled and said, “Fairies live here.”
The bottom line is: our gardens reflect our personalities just like everything else. I told my cousin some of the things he said and she burst out laughing. She is so much like her garden and I’m exactly like mine. I never really thought of us in that way until the guy pointed it out so clearly.
My cousin’s garden could be on the cover of a magazine for perfection. Mine, would be the before picture. Or maybe MAD Magazine would like to use it one of these days. Neither one of us would be happy with each other’s garden. In ten days her’s would look overgrown, and weedy and mine would be trimmed and fit, the plants saluting as she walked by them, glaring and demanding greener leaves. Mud would start to show through her grass and things would be popping up in places they were not planted, or expected to be. It’s just the way we are. She’s thinks there’s a place for everything and I just don’t care where that place is, exactly. I figure that things grow where they want to grow. I do what I want to do, so why shouldn’t the plants, right? Ah, she doesn’t always do what she wants to do, so her plants aren’t allowed to do so either. I didn’t realize that until this very second. Hmm… Anyway, mine is a Witches Garden, without the herbs. Hers is something a king or queen might like. Still, we love each other, get along and have fun. She puts up with me and I know that it’s sometimes difficult for her, but hey, we are the only two left, so we make it work.
This is right on a busy street. That’s what I love about the city…you find so many delightful things that surprise you and make you happy.
Angelo planted a garden this year and sent me a picture of his first strawberry.