It’s why we work hard.
The ability to take a breath and say good work. “It’s all wonderful.”
I’m talking about the yard. Saturday I woke up and had my breakfast/dietcoke in my secret garden. ok ok ok, before I get called out by those who have seen it, it’s hardly a secret garden. It’s very open in my backyard, but I do have my special place located in a shady corner nuzzled up to some bushes and a big tree canopy. Secret it is.
As I sat appreciating the peace that only a saturday morning with no plans can provide :: it started. I thought, Jeez, I need more impatiens; I’ll just run out and get a few.
First the quest to find a bunch of impatiens on Memorial Day weekend. After two stops I found the only four six packs and made it out without someone nabbing them from my basket. Impressive considering I had to break the bad news twice that they were the last ones!
Once home it turned into a full day of not only planting the new plants but moving plants that needed more or less sun. It’s a strange nurturing feeling. Those who love plants, feel me? It’s like when they start showing more blooms they say to me, ” Girl, you knew just what I needed.”
Planted these lilies maybe two years ago
What a lovely sight to see them bloom again
Secret Garden – shush it’s a secret
Very content – reading southern living and listening to Kurt Vile
Purple all summer
color color color – shade shade shade
Well, not really. I just like to pretend. That’s my dream. I want that garden I imagined as a little girl and then again as an older little girl in college when I read, The Secret Garden. In my mind’s eye there is color everywhere. Ivy is growing in every crack, brick and wall. The stone and brick around the yard is all dark and worn. The trees are so old they hang over the yard like a tent for my own little celebration. You can feel the spirits of all the people who loved the land just as much as you do, but from a different time. Maybe they dreamed there, smiled there, cried there or just looked with wonder as I do. We’re never alone. The history of it all is always with us.
I’m celebrating these little beauties. I planted them early September. They are back and more glorious than ever.